FISHERMEN'S MEMORIAL AND RECORD BOOK. 



affirmed, the good God lent his powerful aid in the midst of their 

 dire extremity, and held them in the hollow of his mighty hand. 



Notwithstanding the large number or men, from this town, who 

 served in the army and navy during the rebellion, the loss of life from 

 the casualties of war was far less than the losses at sea for the same 

 period of time. There were two hundred and eighty-two lives lost 

 in the fishing business from this port during the four years of the war, 

 while the record of those who have been killed, or died in the service, 

 is less than half that number. It thus appears that our town suffered 

 more from the perils of the ocean than the ravages of war a fact 

 which would hardly be credited, did not the statistics prove it. 



Ay, these perils attending the fisheries ! These it is which cause 

 the heart of the young maiden or wife to quake with fear every time 

 her lover or husband leaves port ; these it is which disturb the slum- 

 bers of wife, sweetheart, mother and sister, which haunts them when 

 they p^ss their pillows at night, causing those fearful dreams of 

 storm, shipwreck and disaster, which seem so much like reality that 

 the dreamers start in their slumbers, feeling that awful dread which 

 accompanies suspense, and which is so extremely difficult to banish 

 from the mind, even when one is convinced that these phantoms arc 

 merely the illusions of a dream. 



The wearisome and anxious watching for the return of the vessel 

 which never again comes back to port ! That " looking out over the 

 sea," with longing eyes, which is so often done by those having 

 friends absent on the water, and which has been so well described by 

 H. C. L. Haskell in one of his poems, which was also published in 

 the Advertiser, and so appropriate, that we take the liberty to trans- 

 fer it : 



LOOKING OUT OVER THE SEA. 



HERE. 

 Looking out over the sea, 



From a granite rim of shore, 

 Looking out longingly, wearily, 

 Over a turbulent, pitiless sea, 



For the sails that come no more; 

 Waiting and watohing with tear-wet eyes, 

 Till the last faint hope in the bosom dies; 

 While the waves crawl up o'er the chill, white 



Band, 



Those watchers long for a clasping hand, 

 And turn away with a thrill of pain, 

 But often pause to look again 

 From the rough, dark rocks of the sea-beat 



shore, 



For the gleam of snowy sails once more. 

 Sadly, longingly, wearily, 

 Looking out over the sea. 



THERE. 

 Looking out over the sea, 



From the beautiful, golden strand, 

 Looking out gladly, rejoicingly, 

 Over the waves of a tranquil sea, 



From the shores of a summer land; 

 Waiting for comings that once shall be, 

 And then each voyager from earth set free, 

 Free from sorrow and care and pain, 

 Shall leave the Haveu never again. 

 There they are watching whose spirits fled 

 And journeyed on to the Port ahead ; 

 Happily, gladly, rejoicingly, 

 Looking out over the sea. 



