FISHERMEN'S OWN BOOK, 217 



Adventures of Captain Eichard Murphy. 



BY J. W. COLLINS. 



" Cease, rude Boreas, blustering railer; list, ye landsmen all, to me; 

 Messmates, hear a brother sailor tell the dangers of the sea." — Old Song. 



There are few, even among the hardy fishermen sailing from Gloucester, 

 who have had so many wonderful escapes from imminent death as "Dick" 

 Murphy, as he is familiarly called by those who know him. Born in Guys- 

 boro, N. S., he shipped at an early age on a Gloucester mackerel schooner, 

 and since that time (a period of twenty-nine years) he has followed the fish- 

 eries from this port. 



From an interview with Captain Murphy the following facts have been 

 obtained relative to his experience : 



The first incident of any note was his falling overboard in the Bay of St. 

 Lawrence, while "skylarking" with a youthful companion on the deck of a 

 mackerel schooner. Fortunately it was moderate, and Murphy, then a 

 young lad, succeeded in grasping the rope which was thrown him, and was 

 soon hauled in, dripping wet, to be sure, but otherwise none the worse for 

 his involuntary bath. 



His second experience in falling overboard occurred during a March gale 

 on Ge»rges, in 1855. At that time he was one of the crew of the sch. Ty- 

 phoon, and, the vessel having struck adrift in the midst of a furious snow 

 squall, Murphy jumped on to the fore-gaff to take down the signal lantern. 

 Just as the lashings of the lantern had been cast off, the vessel took a heavy 

 lurch ; the fore-boom came out of the crotch and swung suddenly out to lee- 

 ward, throwing Murphy into the water. But he clung to the lantern — one 

 of the old-fashioned box-like affairs — which, he says, "made a good Hfe 

 buoy," and adds : "As the vessel rolled to leeward the next time, I put one 

 hand on the lantern to partially raise myself from the water, and grasping 

 the rail with the other hand, was half way over it before any of my shipmates 

 knew of my mishap. Some three or four of them then ran to my assistance 

 and hauled me in." 



In August, 1857, he was in the sch. Queen of Clippers, bound home from 

 the Bay of St. Lawrence. When the vessel was nearing Cape Ann, Mur- 

 phy climbed up nearly to the jaws of the main-gaff — about forty or fifty feet 

 from the deck — on the mast hoops. When he got high enough so that his 

 feet rested on the second hoop below the gaff, and his hand grasped the 

 next one above, he stopped to have a look for the land. While standing in 

 this position, the seizing of the upper hoop parted and being thus instanfly 



