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FISHERMEN OF THE UNITED STATES. 



An' then ag'in we lay an' lay 



Off Wonson's Cove or Oakses — 

 None go by our compass-light, 



Nor we by other folkses. 

 Ashore, the ball-room winders shine 



Till weary feet are warnin', 

 But here an' there's a sick-room light, 



That winks away till mornin'. 



An' Sundays we go nigher in, 



To hear the bells a-ringin', — 

 I aint no hand for sermons, you, 



But singin's allers singin'. 

 The weathercocks — no two agree — 



Like men they arg' an' differ, 

 While in the cuddy-way I set 



An' take my pipe, an' whiff her. 



My pipe — eh! p'ison? mighty slow; 



It makes my dreamiu' clearer, 

 Though what I fill it with now-days 



Is growin' dearer 'n' dearer. 

 I takes my comfort when it comes, 



Then no lee-larch can spill it, 

 An' if my net is empty, Lor'! 



Why, how can growlin' fill it? 



An' so we jog the hours away, 



The gulls they coo an' tattle, 

 Till on the hill the suudowu red 



Starts up the drowsiu' cattle. 

 The seiners row their jiggers by; 



I pull the slide half over, 

 An' shot the shore out, an' tin' smell 



Of sea-weed sweeter'n clover. 



The following sketch, quoted from a Boston newspaper, contains a fair example of the fisher- 

 man's dialect: * 



"'Wall, you, I see another fisherman has gone down,' said a rugged, weather-beaten veteran 

 of the sea to a reporter who, as was his wont, had invaded the quarters of the old salt near Com- 

 mercial wharf. The speaker sat on an upturned keg, and had just finished reading the account of 

 the loss of the Maud S., which had gone down near Half- Way Bock, off Portland Harbor, not long 

 before. 



"'It's cur'ous. Sometimes a vessel '11 go down's easy's nothin', 'n' then agin she'll live wbar 

 you wouldn't say th' wus a- ghost of a show. Now, thai was the Rattler, pitchpolod over t lie 

 shoals off (Jape Ann at midnight, some thirteen years ago, in a gale of wind, 'n' come right side up 

 'n' got into port safe with every man on board,' and the old man paused and patiently waited for 

 the usual — 



"'How was that, cap'n?' 



'•With a preparatory 'wall,' while a satisfied look overspread his face, the captain continued: 



•■ l One of the wust shoals on the New Englun' coast is 'bout twenty-two league off Cape Ann, 

 called Cashe's Shoals; yet fur all that thY ain't much said 'bout 'em, which I never could explain, 

 fur more vessels uv gone down thar than on any shoal of the same size along the coast.' 



••• How large are the shoals V 



"•Wall, sailin' either side a quarter V a mile an' you're in sixty or seventy fathom, but right 

 on the shoals, which is only a, few rod across, the water ain't much oxer twenty feet deep. Why, 

 it's so shaller I've seen kelp growin' up on top o' the water, an' when thar's a blow an' the big- 

 seas come rollin' in thar's I've seen "em — a hundred feet choppin' down on the bottom — I tell you 

 it's cruel. No ship could live thar in a storm, an' only smaller vessels can go over in calm weather. 

 Wall, the Rattler, as I was a speakin' of, wus comin' 'long down the coast from NewPn'land 

 loaded with frozen herrin'. The night wus a black one, 'n the eap'n was off his reek'nin'. Least - 



"The facts in the case are truthfully described. The Rattler, while returning to Gloucester from a voyage to 

 Newfoundland, in January, 18i>7, wan overtaken by a furious gale in tin- vicinity of Cashe's Ledge. She was struck 

 sea, thrown on her boam ends or rolled over, and finally righted with the loss of both masts. She arrived 

 in Gl tester a few (lays later. 



