136 FISHERMEN'S OWN BOOK. 



A Night in Boston Bay. 



BY JACOB S. LORD. 



"YesI we had a rough night, you may believe, Uncle Moore;" 

 Thus spoke a young fisherman, as he stepped on the shore ; 



u We ran off yesterday noon to set our trawl, 

 Thinking to be home long ere nightfall ; 

 But the wind struck nor'west and did heavily blow, 

 Accompanied with squalls of rain, sleet and snow. 

 We three-reefed our mainsail, expecting a hard beat, 

 Prom our jib took the bonnet, and trimmed down the sheet ; 

 "We double-reefed the foresail and rolled it up snug, 

 Well knowing jib and mainsail were all she eonld lug; 

 The dories were lashed down, secure and compact, 

 Then we gave her a good full, down helm and tacked. 

 Though the sea was running heavy she did not misstay, 

 And soon we were close hauled, standing up Boston Bay. 

 It was fast growing cold, with the wind still increasing; 

 But our twenty-ton boat was steadily forereaehing; 

 Quite fast made the ice from spray that she'd heave 

 As through the turbulent waters her way she would cleave. 

 The man at the wheel, aud the lookout as well, 

 Every half hour were given a spell ; 

 For those who've beat up in a Winter's nor'west breeze 

 Know full well how quickly the helmsman will freeze. 

 So the night wore away till past four o'clock, 

 When under the lee we made Half- Way Rock. 

 The water now smooth, our position made clear, 

 We gave her the foresail — off she went like a deer. 

 For Norman's Woe Rock we now shaped our course, 

 The wind being more westerly and lighter in force ; 

 In due season we heard the deep sullen roar 

 Of the seas as they broke on the Magnolia shore ; 

 A few minutes later, as through the water we plough, 

 The rock shows itself upon the port bow. 

 Our hearts were made light as out of danger we passed, 

 At least for the present, and were near home at last. 

 Passing Ten Pound Island, we shoot into the cove, 

 And down goes the anchor of the W. H. Gove. 

 Right proud are we of the staunch little boat, 

 Which through so terrible a night kept us safely afloat. 

 Let those who eat fish and growl at the price, 

 Take a trip offshore, shovel snow and pound ice ; 

 One good shaking up in old Boston Bay, 

 And they'll ne'er more find fault with fishermen's pay." 



