The cry, "Wake up, Budd! All hands ahoy!" greeted Budd's ears early
Monday morning. He opened his eyes at the command.
The sun had not yet risen. The faint light of early dawn was coming in
through the last window of the room. Judd was out of bed and busily
dressing, and he it was who had given the call. The next moment Budd
was beside him, and they chatted away like magpies as they completed
their dressing. The whole outline for the day's work was soon laid out.
"It will be low tide at nine o'clock, and we must have breakfast eaten
and be on our clamming-grounds at least two hours before that," Judd
said, by way of beginning the conversation.
"And where is it you said we would go?" Budd responded.
"Down the bay to the upper end of Plum Beach Point," was the answer.
"There hasn't been much digging there this season, and we ought to find
clams plenty and of good size. We'll dig there until the turn of the
tide; then we'll go across the bay, under the lee of Conanicut, where
there is a sunken ledge, off which, if I'm not much mistaken, I'll show
you as good fishing as you ever enjoyed."
"What'll we be likely to catch?" Budd then inquired, just as they both
entered the kitchen and began preparations for breakfast.
"Rock-bass, tautog, and the everywhere-present and forever-biting
sea-perch," Judd laughingly answered.
"What about the gill-net?"
"Oh, we'll put that in just at night, and get another run of fish
entirely different. Scup, butterfish, and succoteague, or weak-fish,
will probably be the principal kinds we shall haul then. That will give
us quite a variety for our sale to-morrow," explained Judd.
Breakfast was eaten, a lunch packed, and lines, baskets and hoes stowed
on board the sloop by sunrise. In fact the golden orb peeped above
Conanicut, and sent a dazzling gleam down across the dancing waters,
just as the lads weighed anchor, hoisted the sails, and with a gentle
breeze from the northwest started down the bay. A half-hour later they
had run within fifty yards of Plum Beach Point, where they anchored.
Putting baskets and hoes in the yawl, which was in tow, they cast off
the painter and rowed ashore. The tide was well out. Under the click
of the hoes the clams sent up their tiny spouts of water, revealing
their hiding-places; and, throwing off their coats, the boys were soon
at work.
For over two hours they toiled without interruption; then Judd, who had
been watching the waves for an instant, cried out:
"Hold up, Budd! The tide has turned, and we must be off for our
fishing-grounds. First, however, we will wash and sort over these
bivalves--the large and sound ones for the trade, the small and broken
ones for bait. Here goes!"
Suiting the action to the word, he emptied his basket in a shallow pool
close beside him.
Budd followed his example, and with many an exclamation of delight at
the quantity they had obtained, the lads soon completed this work, and
entering the yawl pulled back to the sloop. Ten minutes later she was
tacking across the bay for the fishing-grounds, known as "Hazard's
pork-barrel."
Budd soon found that his comrade had not over-estimated the piscatorial
possibilities of the place. Scarcely were their baited hooks cast into
the briny deep when the fish began to bite with a steadiness and greed
that would have delighted the most ambitious angler. For three hours
this continued, then suddenly all the biting ceased.
"Our luck is over for to-day," Judd announced, pulling in his lines.
"We may as well weigh anchor and start for home."
"We have done well, anyway," Budd said, with a touch of pride, as he
gazed at the fish they had caught.
"We needn't be ashamed of the morning's work," put in his partner,
laconically. "We'll find a great many mornings when we won't do as
well."
The fish had been thrown, as they were caught, into a sort of "well"
that Judd had arranged in the bow of the sloop for them, and the boys
did not overhaul them until they had reached the island. Here, however,
they were sorted and put into "cars" that were anchored just off the
wharf.
"Twenty tautog, a dozen rock-bass and three dozen sea-perch make quite a
showing," commented Budd as the sorting was finished. "Do you suppose
we will sell all of them?"
"Not any of the sea-perch," replied Judd. "Some of those we must eat
ourselves. There are several ways to cook them, and you won't find them
bad eating. We shall want the rest of them as bait for our
lobster-pots. All the other fish will sell, however, without trouble."
The lads had eaten their luncheon while sailing homeward, but their
appetites were only partially appeased, and so they immediately set
about preparing what they called their "chief" meal. The fire was
kindled, and a large kettle partly filled with water fresh from the well
was put over it. Then a dozen of the larger perch were dressed, cut
into small pieces, and put into the kettle just as the water reached a
boiling-point; some potatoes, nicely peeled and sliced, were now added;
and salt, pepper, a few slices of salt pork, and an onion or two, for
seasoning, followed, and soon the delightful aroma of a fish-chowder
began to fill the kitchen. While that was cooking the table was set,
the johnny-cake baked, and the coffee made. In a little over an hour
after landing the boys had everything in readiness, and sat down to a
dinner that, as they expressed it, was "fit for a king." Good appetites
made it indeed a royal feast, and scarcely a vestige of the chowder
remained when the lads rose from the table.
An hour or two of rest followed the clearing of the table, but just
about six o'clock the partners put the gill-net into the yawl and pulled
over to "the narrows," at the south of "The Hummocks." Before dark the
net was stretched into place, made secure to stout stakes, and the boys
were ready to return home.
"The tide is nearly out now," remarked Judd as they were leaving, "and
so our best catch to-night will be on the incoming tide. To get the
full advantage of this place, we want first an outgoing, then an
incoming tide upon the net; but of course we have got to run our chances
on that."
When back at the island, the day's work for the lads was by no means
done. During the evening the kitchen was turned into a workshop, and
with an old lobster-pot for a pattern, the partners began the
manufacture of their new ones. Four of these were completely finished
before they went to bed, and Judd expressed his satisfaction in the
words:
"Four pots already done; and if, to-morrow night, we can finish four
more, we shall have eight to put in on Wednesday morning, which will
doubtless furnish us with some lobsters for our Friday trade."
At the pulling of the gill-net the next morning there was not as large a
catch as the boys had hoped for; still what fish they did get were of
good size and of the very best quality. There were six succoteague,
weighing from two to four pounds each, one blue-fish, four scup and a
striped bass.
Returning to the island for their other fish and the clams, the lads'
plans for the day were speedily arranged. Budd was to take the yawl and
a minor part of the stock in trade, and landing at "The Hummocks," was
to secure, if possible, a horse and wagon of the nearest farmer, and
peddle through the manufacturing villages in the western part of the
county, while Judd was to take the larger part of the stock into the
sloop and go up to the large town, a mile and a half up the bay. Each
lad had provided himself with a note-book to take orders for their
Friday trade; and wishing each other the best of success, they went
their different ways.
Judd was the first to return to the island, arriving there about two
o'clock with nearly all of his stock disposed of, and three dollars and
twenty cents in cash in his pocket. Budd arrived an hour later, having
sold everything he had carried, but had only two dollars and ten cents
to show for his sales, as he had paid the farmer a dollar for the use of
his horse and wagon.
Five dollars and a half was not, however, a bad showing for their first
day's sale; and greatly encouraged by the outlook, the boys discussed
further plans for the increase of their business.
The rest of the week was given to hard work. In no sense could it be
said the lads were idle. Neither one thought of making their
undertaking a mere pleasure; it was their _business_, and as such must
have their best thought and their hardest labor. They took pride not
only in success, but it must be the very best success they could
possibly achieve.
The eight lobster-pots were put down Wednesday morning just off
Thurston's Rocks, three miles down the bay. Each night saw a few more
made, and each day a few more put down, until there was a string of the
tiny buoys marking their whereabouts for two miles along the coast.
Fish were angled for and clams were dug; and when one place failed
others were visited, until the due quota of each had been secured. The
gill-net was hauled and reset with all the regularity of the rising and
setting sun. On Friday morning the persistent efforts of the lads had
been fairly rewarded, and with double the amount of stock they had had
on the previous Tuesday they set out, each to go his chosen route. But
the demand equaled the supply, and both boys returned to the island
without fish or bivalve.
The firm had agreed that Saturday should be their home day--the day they
repaired their net, and traps, and pots, overhauled and fixed their
boats, and attended to such other work as was necessary to keep their
island and house in thorough order. On that night, too, they were to
cast up accounts for each week, and find their financial standing.
The partners sat in their little sitting-room when this first casting
was made and the result of the week announced:
"Twelve dollars and fifty-two cents above all expenses," declared Budd,
who had been appointed the book-keeper for the firm.
"Not a bad amount for our first week," said Judd. Then with a quizzical
look he asked, "Do you want to go back to Benton's, chum?"
"No, I guess not," replied Budd with a smile; "but haven't we enough
cash on hand now to have the alterations made in the sloop?"
"Yes, I think so," replied his partner; "and if you are agreed, we'll
take her down to Saunderstown, Monday morning, and leave her there for
the alterations. We ought to get her again by Wednesday or Thursday,
and can spare her better the fore part of the week than the last."
"All right," consented Judd.
It would be altogether too long a story, however interesting it might
be, to follow the lads in their work day by day. Not every day was a
fortunate one; nor did they always sell their stock completely out.
Still, as June came in there began to be some demand for the sloop for
fishing or sailing-parties, and this helped out the revenue. There also
came occasionally an unusual haul of fish, which added no small sum of
money to their treasury.
For instance, one June morning the lads were running down the bay to
visit their lobster-pots. All at once Budd, who was forward, called out:
"Judd, look at this school of fish!"
The lad addressed glanced in the direction his companion had pointed,
and the next moment had altered the course of the sloop and was running
directly for the school. When within a few rods of it he exclaimed:
"It is as I thought; they are mackerel, and we are in luck. Get out our
lines, take off the sinkers, and tie on some bits of white rag as quick
as you can."
In wonder, Budd obeyed the directions. Meantime Judd had brought the
sloop directly into the head of the school, and put up her helm and
lashed it.
"Now throw over your lines, and pull in as fast as possible," were
Judd's orders.
What sport followed! Up and down through that school, and it was an
immense one, the sloop went, the lines trolling behind. In and out were
the lines drawn and thrown until the boys' arms ached, and their backs
felt like breaking. Larger and larger grew the pile of great mackerel
on the bottom of the sloop, until the lads could literally fish no
longer.
"Enough!" Budd cried. "I'm satisfied. Let us quit."
His comrade was not loath to follow his suggestion. A counting revealed
the astonishing fact that over three hundred mackerel had been caught,
and they were sold that afternoon in the city of Newport, where the lads
carried them, for twenty-five dollars.
But just about the time the summer hotels were opening a circumstance
happened that put the young partners in a position to do a larger work
than even their ambitions had anticipated.
A few days after the surprising capture of mackerel the lads had taken a
fishing-party down to Beaver Tail. On the return, late in the
afternoon, and just as the sloop passed Dutch Island, Budd called his
chum's attention to another sloop just ahead of them that had suddenly
luffed up into the wind and nearly capsized. A moment later she fell
off before the wind, her sail flapped loosely at the mast, and then it
was seen that the man at the tiller had disappeared.
"Has the man fallen overboard?" was Budd's startling question.
"No," replied Judd, putting up his helm and running down toward the
other sloop. "That is Ben Taylor's boat, and he is subject to fits. He
has fallen into one, and that has let the vessel fall off before the
wind."
A few minutes later the Sea Witch ran alongside of the drifting sloop;
and, as Judd had said, her owner was lying in her bottom, unconscious.
After a little consultation, Budd and one of the fishing-party boarded
the craft, and carrying the man into the cabin and laying him in a
berth, they put the boat before the wind and followed the Sea Witch up
the bay to Wickford, where the unfortunate man belonged.
He was then taken to his home and a doctor summoned, who pronounced the
man alive, and under skillfully-applied restoratives he soon began to
recover. Budd waited just long enough to know the man was out of
danger; then he joined Judd at the wharf, and together they sailed off
to their island home.
Three or four mornings later they were surprised by a visit from Mr.
Taylor himself. After thanking the lads for the part they had taken in
his rescue, he said:
"The doctor tells me I'm liable to have these turns almost any time, and
with recurring frequency. That makes my wife opposed to my going on the
water any longer, and I've come over to see if you lads won't take my
business."
The boys knew he was the owner of three fish-pounds at various points on
the bay, and with some eagerness they asked him his terms.
"Well," he said slowly, "I thought if you were willing to take my pounds
off my hands, and the contract I have with city parties for the fish,
I'd give you two-thirds of the net profits. The other third ought to be
a fair percentage on the money I have invested. Then if you chaps
should want to buy the pounds right out, you shall have them for what
they cost me."
It was altogether too good an opportunity to let pass, and the boys
promptly accepted the offer.
They still kept the home trade they had built up, but shipped to city
parties all the fish they had exceeding the home demand, and thus found
themselves in the possession of a weekly income that they had scarcely
dreamed of. It was very plain that unless some unforeseen circumstance
came in to prevent, their business had taken a boom that would insure
them a most successful season.