OVER THE BAR
The _Bertha B_ now lay as motionless as "a painted ship upon a painted
ocean." The captain released his hold of the steering-wheel and turned
toward Alec, studying his face again.
"How old are you?" he asked.
"I'll be nineteen on my next birthday."
"You are pretty big for your age."
"I'm five feet, ten inches," laughed Alec, "and I don't believe I'm done
growing yet."
"No. You'll be a six footer before you're done. Was your father a large
man?"
"No, sir. I am already two inches taller than he was."
"Where do you get your size from? Was your mother large?"
"No, sir. I've seen pictures of my mother, and she wasn't as tall as
Dad. I guess it must come from good food and exercise."
"If that's the case, you ought to keep right on growing. You'll get
plenty of both aboard an oyster-boat."
"If the breakfast I had was a fair sample, I'm sure there will be plenty
of food."
"I'll see that you get plenty of exercise, too," smiled the captain.
Again he looked Alec over, seemingly in appraisal of his physical
powers. "You don't look like a working boy," he said. "What kind of
exercise have you been used to?"
"I never had to work for my living," replied Alec, "because I was going
to school and Dad supported me. But I did all the chores at
home--chopped the wood, took care of the ashes, dug the garden, and so
on. And I was on the high school athletic teams."
"Humph!" snorted the captain. "That's hard work, that is--playing a
little baseball."
Alec flushed slightly, but made no reply. He knew well enough that the
captain had never played a hard game of football or he would not have
made that remark.
"Know anything about water or boats?" the captain asked, after an
interval.
"I've been used to little sailboats and canoes all my life, sir, and I
can swim."
Alec might have added that he was the champion swimmer of the Central
City High School, but he wisely did not.
"Well," rejoined the captain, "that may be useful to you. There are too
many sailors who cannot swim."
"Sailors who cannot swim," repeated Alec in astonishment. "Why, I
supposed all sailors could swim."
"Then you supposed wrong. Lots of 'em can't swim a stroke."
The captain thrust his head out of a window and surveyed the water.
"Tide's about run out," he said.
Alec noticed that the water below them was moving much slower than it
had been. Accustomed as he was to an inland stream, in which the current
always ran one way, the alternating flow of this tide-water stream
interested him deeply. As he looked at the banks of the river, he could
see that the water had fallen several feet.
"How much does the tide fall here?" he asked.
"About six feet, I reckon," said the captain, "but this is an unusually
low tide. In fact, we haven't had a tide as low as this in years. I
don't know when I've seen that bar out of water before. This stiff
northeast wind, coming straight down the river, has blown the water all
out into the Bay."
"Has the river fallen as much back at the pier as it has here?" asked
Alec, examining the shore carefully.
"Sure thing. There's enough water to float a boat off the ends of the
piers, but the slips between 'em, where you saw the scows, haven't an
inch of water in 'em. They're only mud-flats, now."
In the darkness Alec hadn't seen much of the scows, but he did not tell
the captain so. Instead, he said, "It's wonderful. Will it all run back
now?"
"You'll see it start to flow back in a few minutes. Of course this
won't be a very high tide, for the wind that blew the water out of the
river will keep some of it from running back."
"Suppose the wind were blowing in exactly the opposite direction," said
Alec. "Would it blow the river full of water?"
"That's exactly what it would do. When that happens the water sometimes
gets up over the pier you slept on. That's a couple of feet higher than
common."
"Whew!" whistled Alec. "That's like our spring-floods inland. Everything
gets covered with water."
"Pretty much the same thing," said the captain. "But we'd a good deal
rather have a high tide than one of your floods. High tides don't do so
much damage as your floods. And then the tides help us a great deal. But
they was more useful before the days of power boats than they are now.
In them days, if there wasn't any wind to blow your boat, all you had to
do was to wait for the tide to change, and you could go up-stream or
down without a bit of wind. But now that we use gasoline, we don't pay
much attention to the tide."
Alec glanced out of the window again. The chips and bubbles that had
been floating down-stream were now moving ever so slightly in the
opposite direction.
"Look!" he cried. "The tide's running in."
"Sure," said the captain. "I've been watching it. We'll be off pretty
soon."
Again the captain leaned out of his window and looked up-stream and
down. "Every last boat in the fleet is hung up," he said. "Never knowed
that to happen before. Some of 'em always gets through." He closed the
window and once more faced Alec. "What was you studying in school?" he
asked.
"I took the usual required work in high school," said Alec, "but I was
specializing in biology."
"What's that?"
"The study of life processes," replied Alec.
The captain looked blank. "What do you do in that study?" he asked.
"Why, you try to find out all about the life of an animal, how it is
born and how it grows and eats and multiplies. You dissect animals, and
you examine them under a microscope. In short, you try to find out all
about an animal's life, just as you oystermen probably do with oysters."
"Humph!" snorted the captain. Then he laughed aloud. "Now ain't that an
idea," he exclaimed, "watching oysters under a microscope! Young fellow,
we ketch oysters, that's what we do. We ketch 'em for people to eat."
"But I'm sure it would help you to study them, too. A man can't know too
much about the things he handles."
"If that's the kind of nonsense they teach you at high school, I'm glad
I never went to one. I can read and write, and that's enough learnin'
for any oysterman."
Alec made no reply, but the captain's remark had set him thinking. He
wondered if there were not an opportunity to apply his school training
in the oyster business. He knew that science had almost revolutionized
farming, and he wondered if the oyster business might not be somewhat
like farming was before the days of the agricultural colleges. But he
did not know, and he very wisely kept quiet. He determined that he would
look into the matter as he had opportunity.
He was silent so long that the captain suddenly remarked, "Never mind
what I said, lad. I didn't mean to hurt your feelings."
"You didn't hurt my feelings," smiled Alec. "You just set me to
thinking."
"Tell me more about your life at Central City," the captain went on.
"Well, there isn't much to tell. My father worked for the electric light
company, and I belonged to the Camp Brady Wireless Patrol. But that
probably wouldn't interest you, any."
"You mean that you know something about wireless telegraphy?"
"Sure. I've got a little outfit with me in my valise. It isn't much of
an outfit, though, for I made it myself. But I can send and receive over
a pretty good radius, even if it is home-made."
The captain looked at Alec with evident admiration. "Do you mean you
made the set yourself?"
"Absolutely. I can install it here on the _Bertha B_ and take messages
for you, if you'll let me."
"It's a nice thing, wireless is," replied the captain, "but it wouldn't
be any use on an oyster-boat. Besides, it would be in the way. You see
how cramped we are for room. These boats was all right as long as they
stuck to sails, but they filled up the hold with engines and winders and
a lot of machinery when they turned 'em into power boats, and they ain't
big enough any longer. We can ketch twice as many oysters with power
boats as we used to with sails, and we don't have room to carry 'em when
we get a big catch. Some day they'll build oyster-boats of a new sort.
They'll make 'em bigger and higher and have room in the hold where we
can put oysters. Then we can catch 'em all winter."
"Don't you catch them in winter now?" asked Alec in astonishment, for he
distinctly recalled eating oysters all through the winter season.
"We have to carry 'em on deck," explained Captain Bagley, "and in cold
weather they freeze. Then we have to stop dredging. Your winter oysters
come from the Chesapeake, I reckon; at least in real cold weather. But
tell me some more about this Wireless Patrol. What was it?"
"Oh! Just a bunch of us fellows who had wireless outfits. We used to
talk to each other at night and listen in to all the news that's flying
about; and we used to go camping, too. When the war came, we knew enough
about wireless to be of some use. We caught the German dynamiters at Elk
City, and four of our boys helped the Secret Service in New York run
down the secret wireless of the Germans. One of our boys, Henry Harper,
is a government wireless man now, and Roy Mercer is wireless man on the
steamer _Lycoming_ running between New York and Galveston. Charley
Russell is a forest ranger back home in the state forest, and he got his
job largely because of his ability with the wireless. They're going to
install a wireless system in his section of the forest, it is so useful
in fighting forest fires."
"You don't say!"
"Sure. You see, Charley started as a fire patrol and he saved a tract of
the finest timber in Pennsylvania because he was able to call help
promptly with his wireless. He'd have had to hike twenty-four miles over
the mountains and back to get help if he hadn't had his wireless outfit
with him, and the fire would have got such a start it would have burned
up the whole tract before they could have stopped it. Oh! You can do
most anything with wireless. I'm sorry I can't use my outfit aboard the
_Bertha B_. I could string up my aerial between the masts, and I don't
believe my wires would be one bit in your way."
The captain smiled indulgently. "Wireless is all right, I know," he
said. "But we ain't got any use for it on an oyster-boat. Our business
is to ketch oysters."
"Don't you ever have accidents?" inquired Alec. "With so many ships
sailing in the same place, I should think you would have collisions
every day. Why, I should think the oystermen would almost come to
blows, like those gulls there fighting for table scraps."
"I don't quite get you," said the captain. "Why should we fight?"
"To see who shall get the oysters, of course. Suppose that ship over
there wanted to dredge in exactly the same spot you have in mind. How
are you going to prevent her from doing it? And where will you get your
oysters then?"
"Well, you are a landlubber, for sure," laughed the captain. "Why, no
other oysterman would dare come on my grounds. I'd send him to jail, if
he did."
"What!" cried Alec. "You don't mean that you own part of the oyster-bed?
I supposed the government owned all navigable waters. Our Susquehanna
River is a public stream."
"Right you be, lad. The government does own the Delaware Bay, but it
leases the oyster-beds, or at least land for oyster-beds, to private
individuals. Each oysterman has his own grounds, just as each of your
Pennsylvania farmers has his own farm."
"Are you kidding me?" asked Alec, mindful of the reputation sailors have
for spinning yarns.
"Not a bit," replied the captain. "I thought everybody knew that."
"But how could a man have an oyster-bed separate from all the other beds
in a big body of water like the Delaware Bay? Why, it must be miles and
miles in width. How could anybody tell just where his oysters were, in
such a vast expanse of water?"
"How could he tell?" snorted the captain. "How can a farmer tell where
his farm is, with so much land all around it?"
"Why, he'd fence it in, of course, or mark the boundary lines in some
way."
"Well, young fellow, oystermen have just as much brains as farmers. And
they are just as particular to fence in their own grounds, too."
Alec's face was blank for a moment. Then he smiled broadly. "Now you
_are_ kidding me," he said.
"Not for a minute," said the captain. "Do you see that boat over
there--the _Mary and Hattie_?"
"Sure!"
"Do you see those long poles she carries over her starboard rail, near
the stern? They're long saplings with all the branches trimmed off but
the top ones."
"I see them," said Alec.
"Well, those are the kind of markers we use to stake off an oyster-bed.
You see there are natural beds in the Bay, where the state won't allow
any dredging except to ketch seed-oysters for spring planting. But an
oysterman can lease as much land elsewhere as he wants and plant it with
oysters. The state surveys it and then the oysterman marks it off with
those poles. And if anybody but the owner dredges oysters in that ground
he'll get just what a fellow would get if he went into a farmer's field
and stole his crops. The oysterman owns every oyster in his bed."
"Honestly?" asked Alec, who was so much astonished that he forgot his
manners. "Why, I supposed that the oysters grew anywhere on the bottom
and that the oystermen just dredged wherever they felt like dredging."
"Humph!" said the captain. "There'd be a lot of oysters left in a few
years if we did that. The beds would be dredged clean. That's the way
they used to ketch oysters, and the state had to put a stop to it in
order to save any oysters at all. Why, the whole Atlantic coast used to
be covered with oysters, and now there's only a few beds left. This bed
in the Maurice River Cove is one of the most valuable in the whole
United States. But it wouldn't last long if the state didn't regulate
oystering."
"How does the state regulate it?" asked Alec.
"Well, there's the natural bed I told you about. That lies above what we
call the Southwest Line. Nobody dare dredge above that line except in
May and June to ketch seed-oysters. That gives the oysters in the
natural bed a chance to multiply from year to year, so as to provide the
necessary seed."
"But what's to prevent a boat from slipping in there and dredging
oysters on the sly? If the boats are scattered all over the Bay, and
each boat is busy dredging on its own ground, I don't see what's to
hinder a dishonest captain from stealing the state's oysters."
Captain Bagley lowered a window-sash and craned his neck, so he could
look up-stream. "See that long, low power boat up there?" he asked,
after running his eye over the fleet behind him. "That's one of the
guard-boats. The state has four of 'em. They're fast little craft and
they watch the fleet every minute. I think that's the _Dianthus_. She
knows just where every boat belongs, and if a fellow dredges on state
land or on some other fellow's ground, she'll nab him quick."
"Why, that's just like a police force," said Alec.
"That's exactly what it is. You see this oyster business has grown to be
a big thing. We shipped nine million dollars' worth of oysters out of
Bivalve last year, and the state ain't takin' no chances on having that
business wrecked. So the state keeps pretty close watch on us."
"Don't it make you kind of nervous, to be watched all the time?" asked
Alec.
"Lord bless you!" said the captain. "We ain't got no reason to be
nervous. We'd rather have that guard-boat there than not. It protects
our property when we're not around. Most of the oystermen in this fleet
is as honest as the day is long. They wouldn't touch another man's
grounds if you'd pay 'em. But we do have a few crooked ones, like any
other business, and they have to be watched. The guard-boats don't pay
much attention to the rest of us, but they keep pretty close tab on
skippers that are known to be dishonest. Hello! The _Dianthus_ is
moving. We'll see what we can do."
The captain leaned forward and rang his bell. The motor began to turn
and the ship once more vibrated. Slowly the _Bertha B_ moved ahead. The
captain swung her toward the channel. Around her the water was inky
black, where her propeller was churning up the mud. The water deepened
and the vessel gained headway. In a moment she was going smoothly. The
bar ahead had disappeared. The tide was rising rapidly. All about her,
other ships were starting or trying to start. Those with power forged
slowly ahead through the mud until they reached the centre of the
channel. A few that depended upon their sails alone were forced by the
wind to circle about before they could head toward the oyster grounds.
Everywhere the scene was one of animation. Ahead of the _Bertha B_ and
behind her, ships by the score were once more in motion. The water
sparkled in the light of the rising sun. And as the river widened into
the Bay, the water began to roll and billow under the strong sweep of
the rising wind.
On went the _Bertha B_. To her left stretched East Point, a long, low
finger of sand, reaching far out into the water, the square, white
lighthouse, surmounted by its round light tower, bulking huge against
the horizon. On the right stretched limitless reaches of brown
marsh-land. Behind her ran the serpentine river. And before her lay the
Bay, a waste of tossing water. As far as Alec could see, nothing else
was visible. It was his first sight of salt water, and he stood
entranced, fascinated by the picture of the tumbling waves, the darting
gulls, and the fair white ships, heading out to the oyster grounds, like
sheep on the way to pasture.