FISHERMEN'S OWN BOOK. 219 



let Murphy tell the story in his own words : "The skipper told me to take 

 the end of the ' net-warp ' "—a three inch manila rope, usually about fifty fath- 

 oms long — "aloft with me and bend it around the mainmast with a running 

 bowline as high above the gaff of the three-reefed sail as I could reach- 

 Making a loop in the end of the rope, I threw it over my head and climbed 

 up on the mast hoops till I reached the gaff, which I got astride of, and 

 proceeded to execute my task. This I accomplished in a few moments, 

 and having shoved the rope up as high as I could, again sat down on the 

 gaff, unconsciously throwing both legs on the weather side instead of sitting 

 astride of it, as one almost always will. This seemingly trifling circumstance 

 probably saved my life. It was the intention of the skipper, as soon as I 

 got the end of the warp fast, to take the other end to the windlass and heave 

 taut on it. But before this could be done, and while I was intently watch- 

 ing the movements on deck, the vessel took a heavy plunge, and as her bow 

 rose again and her stern dropped suddenly into the hollow of the sea, the 

 mainmast broke under me and fell with a crash over the stern, breaking 

 again where it struck on the taffrail. Just how I escaped I can hardly tell, 

 the whole thing was done so quickly. I only know that, feeling the mast go- 

 ing, I threw myself from the gaff and fell all in a heap in the corner formed 

 by the taffrail and lee-quarter rail. At the same instant the mast struck on 

 the taffrail, above my head, as I lay on deck. Had I fallen a few inches far- 

 ther aft I should have struck in the water, and rescue would have been im- 

 possible. As it was, I received no injury beyond a little shaking up, a few 

 bruises, etc., and was soon able to resume duty." 



The next remarkable adventure that he had occurred in the Fall of 

 1869, while he was with me in the sch. Glenwood. Toward the close of a 

 disagreeable drizzly day in October, we ran into Port Hood, C. B., where 

 a large fleet had collected in anticipation of a storm. All of the best an- 

 choring grounds were occupied, and we were obliged to take a berth not far 

 from the long sand bar which extends nearly two-thirds of the distance 

 across the southern side of the harbor, leaving a comparatively narrow chan- 

 nel between that and the sand spits off the eastern shore. That night and 

 the next day the weather was only what might be expected — raw, breezy 

 and unpleasant. About nine o'clock on the second night the wind backed 

 to north-northeast and began to pipe in good earnest with occasional "spits" 

 of snow. We let go the second anchor, paid out a good scope on both ca- 

 bles, and having set an anchor watch, turned in. All hands were called 

 again at midnight to pay out more cable, though, on account of the Lizzie 

 A. Tarr lying directly astern of us, and very close, there was not room 

 enough for so long a scope as we wished to have out. At this time it was 

 intensely dark, the air was filled with snow and sleet, and the gale had in- 

 creased to almost a hurricane. The tide, too, had risen to an almost unpre- 



