Читать книгу Around the Camp-fire - Charles George Douglas Roberts - Страница 8

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“It was just before daybreak on a dewy June morning of 1887, when a party of four set out to drift for shad. There was the rector (whom you know), my cousin B—— (whom you don’t know), and myself (whom you think you know). We went to learn how the business of drifting was conducted. There was also the old fisherman, Chris, the owner of the shad-boat. He went for fish.

“By the time the long fathoms of brown net were unwound from the great creaking reel and coiled in the stern of the boat, the tide had turned, and a current had begun to set outward from the little creek in which our boat was moored. Our rusty mainsail was soon hoisted to catch the gentle catspaws from the shore, and we were underway.

“A word of explanation here. The shad-fishing of the Bay of Fundy is carried on, for the most 36 part, by ‘drifting.’ The boats employed are roomy, heavy, single-masted craft, with a ‘cuddy,’ or forward cabin, in which two men may sleep with comfort. These craft, when loaded, draw several feet of water, and are hard to float off when they chance to run aground. They carry a deep keel, and are stanch sea-boats—as all boats need to be that navigate the rude waters of Fundy.

“When we had gained a few cable-lengths from shore the breeze freshened slightly. It was a mere zephyr, but it drove the boat too fast for us to pay out the net. We furled the sail, and thrust the boat along slowly with our heavy sweeps, while Chris paid out the net over the stern.

“These Fundy boats sometimes stay out several tides, making a haul with each tide; but it was our intention merely to drift out with this ebb, and return by the next flood.

“It was slow work for a while. We ate, told stories, speculated as to how many fish were entangling themselves in our meshes, and at about nine o’clock appealed to Chris to haul in.

“The tremendous tide had drifted us in five hours over twenty miles. We decided to run the boat into the mouth of a small river on our right to take a good swim before we started on the return trip. The plan was accepted by Chris, and we set ourselves to haul in the net.

“In the centre of the boat stood two huge tubs, into which we threw the silvery shad as we took 37 them from the meshes. When we found a stray skate, squid, or sculpin, we returned it to its native element; but a small salmon we welcomed as a special prize, and laid it away in a wrapping of sail-cloth.

“The catch proved to be rather a light one, though Chris averred it was as good as any he had made that year.

“‘Why, what has become of the shad?’ asked the rector. ‘It seems to me that in former years one could sometimes fill these tubs in a single trip.’

“‘Ay, ay,’ growled Chris, ‘that’s true enough, sir! But the fishin’ ain’t now what it used to be; and it’s all along o’ them blamed dogfish.’

“‘What do the dogfish have to do with it?’ I asked.

“‘Do with it!’ answered Chris. ‘Why, they eat ’em. They eat everything they kin clap ther eye onto. They’re thicker’n bees in these here waters the last year er two back.’

“‘They are a kind of small shark, I believe?’ put in the rector in a tone of inquiry.

“‘Well, I reckon as how they be. An’ they’re worse nor any other kind as I’ve heern tell of, because they kinder hunt in packs like, an’ nothin’ ain’t a-goin’ to escape them, once they git onto it. I’ve caught ’em nigh onto four foot long, but mostly they run from two to three foot. They’re spry, I tell you, an’ with a mouth onto ’em like 38 a fox-trap. They’re the worst varmin that swims; an’ good fer nothin’ but to make ile out of ther livers.’

“‘I’ve heard them called the “hounds of the sea,”’ said B——. ‘Are they bold enough to attack a man?’

“‘They’d attack an elephant, if they could git him in the water. An’ they’d eat him too,’ said Chris.

“‘I hope they won’t put in an appearance while we’re taking our swim,’ remarked, the rector. ‘I don’t think we had better swim far out.’

“By this time we were near the mouth of the stream, a broad, shallow estuary three or four hundred yards wide. In the middle was a gravelly shoal which was barely uncovered at low water, and was then marked by a line of seaweed and small stones. We bore up the northern channel, and saw that the shores were stony and likely to afford us a firm landing; but the channel was unfamiliar to Chris, and suddenly, with a soft thud, we found ourselves aground in a mud-bank, a hundred yards from shore. The tide had yet a few inches to fall, and we knew that we were fast for an hour or so.

“When we had got ourselves out of our clothes, the surface of the shoal in mid-channel was bare. It was about fifty yards from the boat, and we decided to swim over to it and look for anemones and starfish. B——, who was an indifferent 39 swimmer, took an oar along with him to rest on if he should get tired. We laughed at him for the precaution as the distance was so short; but he retorted,—

“‘If any of those sea-dogs should turn up, you’ll find that said oar will come in pretty handy.’

“The water was of a delicious temperature; and we swam, floated, and basked in a leisurely fashion. When we had reached the bar the tide was about to turn. The Fundy tides may be said to have practically no slack; they have to travel so fast and so far that they waste no time in idleness. We hailed Chris, whom we had left in the boat, and told him the tide had turned.

“Chris rose from his lounging attitude in the stern, and took a look at the water. The next moment he was on his feet, yelling, ‘All aboard! all aboard! Here’s the dogfish a-comin’!’

“B—— and I took the water at once, but the rector stopped us. ‘Back!’ he commanded. ‘They’re upon us already, and our only chance is here in the shoal water till Chris can get the boat over to us.’

“Even as he spoke we noted some small black fins cutting the water between the boat and our shoal. We turned back with alacrity.

“The first thing Chris did was to empty both barrels of my fowling-piece among the advancing fins. At once a great turmoil ensued, caused by 40 the struggles of two or three wounded dogfish. The next moment their struggles were brought to an end. Their companions tore them to pieces in a twinkling.

“The rector shouted to Chris to try to throw us the boat-hook. It was a long throw, but Chris’s sinews rose to the emergency, and the boat-hook landed nearly at our feet. The boat-hook was followed by a broken gaff, which struck the sand at the farther side of the shoal.

“Meanwhile between us and the boat the water had become alive with dogfish. Our shoal sloped so abruptly that already they could swim up to within two or three feet of us. We knew that the tide would soon bring them upon us, and we turned cold as we thought what our fate would be unless Chris could reach us in time. Then the battle began.

“B—— and I, with our awkward weapons, managed to stun a couple of our assailants. The rector’s boat-hook did more deadly execution; it tore the throat out of the first fish it struck. At once the pack scented their comrade’s blood, darted on the wounded fish, devoured it, and crowded after us for more.

“Our blows with the oar and gaff served temporarily to disable our assailants, but not gash their tough skin. But the moment blood was started on one of our enemies his comrades finished the work for us. Almost every stroke of 41 the boat-hook tore a fish, which straightway became food for its fellows. The most I could do with my gaff was to tap a dogfish on the head when I could, and stun him for a while.

“During these exciting minutes the tide was rising with terrible speed. The water that now came washing over our toes was a lather of foam and blood, through which sharp, dark fins and long keen bodies darted and crowded and snapped.

“Suddenly one fish, fiercer than the rest, made a dart at B——’s leg, and its sharp snout just grazed his skin, causing him to yell with horror. We tried to get our feet out of the water by standing on the highest stones we could find. Our arms were weary from wielding the oar and the gaff, but the rector’s boat-hook kept up its deadly lunges.

“Chris had been firing among our assailants; but now, beholding our strait, he threw down the gun, and strained furiously upon his one oar in the endeavor to shove off the boat. She would not budge.

“‘Boys, brace up! brace up!’ cried the rector. ‘She’ll float in another minute or two. We can give these chaps all they want.’ As he spoke, his boat-hook ripped another fish open. He had caught the knack of so using his weapon that he raked his opponents from underneath without wasting an ounce of effort.

“The fight was getting too hot to last. A big 42 fish, with a most appalling array of fangs, snatched at my foot. Just in time I thrust the broken end of the gaff through his throat and turned him on his back. His neighbors took charge of him, and he vanished in bloody fragments.

“As I watched this an idea struck me.

“‘Chris!’ I yelled, ‘the shad! the shad! Throw them overboard, a dozen at a time!’

“‘Splendid!’ cried the rector; and B—— panted approvingly, ‘That’s the talk! That’ll call ’em off.’

“Down came his oar with fresh vigor upon the head of a dogfish, which turned at once on its side. Then the shad began to go overboard.

“At first the throwing of the shad produced no visible effect, and the attack on us continued in unabated fury. Then the water began to foam and twist where the shad were dropping, and on a sudden we were left alone.

“The whole pack forsook us to attack the shad. How they fought and lashed and sprang and tore in one mad turmoil of foam and fish!

“‘Spread them a bit!’ B—— cried. ‘Give them all a chance, or they’ll come back at us.’

“‘She’s afloat! she’s afloat!’ he yelled the next moment, in frantic delight.

“Chris threw out another dozen of fish. Then he thrust his oar over the stern, and the big boat moved slowly toward us. At intervals Chris stopped and threw out more shad. As we eagerly 43 watched his approach the thought occurred to us that when the boat should reach us it would be with the whole pack surrounding it. The ravenous creatures seemed almost ready to leap aboard.

“‘We can use these oars and things as leaping-poles,’ suggested B——.

“‘That’s what we’ll have to do,’ agreed the rector. Then he cried to Chris, ‘Bring her side onto the shoal, so we can all jump aboard at the same time.’

“As the boat drew nearer, Chris paused again, and threw a score of shad far astern. Away darted the dogfish; and the boat rounded up close before us.

“The agility with which we sprang aboard was remarkable, and Chris almost hugged us in his joy.

“‘Not another shad’ll they git out er me!’ he declared triumphantly.

“‘Well, I should rather think not,” remarked the rector. ‘But they might as well have some more dogfish.’

“With these words he put his foot upon the gunwale, and his unwearying boat-hook went back jubilantly into the battle.

“Rapidly loading and firing my shotgun, I picked off as many of our enemies as I comfortably could; and B——, by lashing the boat’s hatchet on the end of the gaff, made a weapon with which he played havoc among our foes.

“But the fray lasted not much longer. Innumerable 44 as were yet the survivors, their hunger was becoming appeased, and their ferocity diminished. In a little while they sheered off to a safer distance.

“When we had time to think of our own condition, we found that our backs were painfully scorched by the blazing June sun. As with pain we struggled into our clothes, Chris trimmed our course toward home.

“‘I reckon you know now ’bout all you’ll wanter know ’bout the ways o’ dogfish,’ he suggested.

“‘They are certainly very bloodthirsty,’ said the rector; ‘but at the same time they are interesting. That they gave us a noble contest you can’t deny.’”

When Queerman relapsed into silence, Ranolf took up the parable without waiting to be called upon.

“Queerman’s story,” said he, “reminds me of an adventure of my own, which befell me in that same tide-region which he has just been talking of. You know, I spent much of my illustrious boyhood about the Tantramar marshes, and overlooking the yellow head-waters of the Bay of Fundy. The name of my story is, ‘The Bull and the Leaping-Pole,’ and the scene of it is within a mile of the spot whence Queerman and his crowd set out for shad. It will serve to show what agility I am capable of on a suitable occasion.