FRESH-HALIBUT FISHERY. 71 
giving the watch the usual order for the night: “‘Pass the word along to fleet the cable at 12 
o’clock, and if the wind blows any harder, give mé a call.” 
-Monday, March 11, 1878.—At 2a. m: the watch called me and said that “Old Boreas was tun- 
ing his harp again.” We called all hands and paid out some miore cable, set the dories amidships, 
&c. There were frequent heavy snow squalls from the NNW. and rapidly falling barometer at this 
time. At7a.m.it blew a gale. Barometer 29.30. At 2 p.m. it blew a heavy gale. Barometer 
29.15. The gale continued without abatement during the remainder of this p. m. 
Tuesday, March 12, 1878.—At 7 a. m. the gale still continued. Barometer 29.70. At noon 
barometer 29.90, and no change in the gale. We hove in the strad, and shifted it. Saw a topsail 
schooner to windward lying to. I cannot help feeling disgusted and dissatisfied at the way things 
have worked with us this trip. The wind has blown a gale most of the time, and when we have 
had good weather we have found fish scarce. At 5 p. m. the wind had lulled a little, though it 
still blew heavy and was as rough as ever. Later, the wind increased, and the latter part of this 
p. m. blew a heavy gale, with a very bad sea running. 
Wednesday, March 13, 1878.—At 2 a. m. our vessel shipped a sea over the bow that broke 
some of the checker-planks and washed aft what cable we had on deck. At 6 a. m. there was 
less wind. Barometer 30.25. We hove in some cable and repaired the checker-planks in the fore- 
noon, and hauled the trawls in the afternoon. We got only eight or ten small halibut, and I felt 
so disheartened, so tired and disgusted with constantly trying and getting next to nothing, that I 
determined to start to the westward, and if we have a chance we will try on the Western Bank, 
and if not we will go home with what few fish we have caught, rub out the old score, and begin 
again. It will be better for us than to stay here any longer as the prospect now is. We hove up 
and set all sail. At 7 p.m. it was nearly calm, but at 10 o’clock a light air sprang up from the 
southward and we set the stay-sail and headed on our course W. by N. half N. 
Thursday, March 14, 1878,—In the early part of this a. m. the wind backed to SH., and at 
3 o’clock a. m. was blowing fresh and puffy. Called all hands and took in the stay-sail, turned the 
dories over, and lashed them securely. We got through at 4 o’clock and all of the men went below 
but the watch. I staid on deck myself, for these winter southeasters cannot be safely trusted, 
though, at the same time, sail must be carried to the last extremity. It was raining lightly, and the 
night, which was moonless and starless, was one of the blackest I have ever seen. All that could 
be seen was the sparkle of the spray as it flew from the bow, and the luminous phosphorescent 
wake of the vessel, as, with the sheets well off, she rushed through the water and darkness like a 
wild horse flying from a pursuer. Every sheet and halyard fairly hummed with the strain upon 
them. I called all hands. “Get on your oil-clothes and stand by the halyards,” was the order. 
Hardly had I begun to pace the deck again, when a squall struck into our sails with a force 
which strained every thread of the bellying canvas, and threatened to carry away the spars or 
drive our little schooner beneath the sea. Feeling the vessel settling I shouted to the man at the 
wheel, “Let her come to!” and to his watch-mate, who was standing by the weather dories, 
looking out, “Let go the mainpeak halyards, Jerry!” At the same time I sprang to the main 
throat-halyards and tried to get them clear, but they were made fast in some unusual way, and in 
the darkness I could not tell how. In the mean time our little craft came near going to the 
bottom. She was under water from her cat-head to her taffrail on the lee side. The man at the 
wheel had to get upon the wheel-box, the water was so high where he stood. When he first heard 
my order he put the wheel down, but finding the vessel was going so low he became frightened, 
and kept her off before it again, thinking that the safest thing to do. The man I sent to the peak- 
halyards, though he was floated off his feet by the rush of water on the lee side of the mainmast, 
