MERRIMAC BAIT CATCHING. 



GEO. L. WHITMORE. 



Ever since fishing vessels have sailed 

 from the ports of Massachusetts, the Mer- 

 rimac river has been an important source 

 of supply for bait. In olden times salted 

 clams and porgie slivers were much used, 

 but since the introduction of cold storage 

 the demand is for fresh fish, though 

 some skippers still cling to their "hammer 

 bait," meaning cockles, which they strike 

 with a hammer before placing on the hook, 

 that being the only kind of bait a dogfish 

 will not touch. 



As the schools of bait, alewives, blue- 

 backs, porgies, and herring, migrate along 

 our coasts, they enter the Merrimac, and 

 are kept there by dogfish and pollock at 

 the river's mouth. After the migration 

 has passed and the weirs and pounds are 

 empty, bait can still be caught in the Merri- 

 mac. 



Many methods are employed in catching 

 fish. The purse seine plays an important 

 part, especially in the capture of mackerel. 

 The mesh net does its share in the general 

 destruction of fish life, whether it be 

 placed at the bottom or the top of the wa- 

 ter ; but the principal method is with the 

 old fashioned, baited hook. 



A little black steamer, loaded with her- 

 ring, passes from vessel to vessel in Glou- 

 cester harbor, supplying them with bait. 

 Let us get aboard her, go over to the Mer- 

 rimac river, and see how the bait is caught. 

 In response to our request, we are invited 

 on board, and the steamer heads for the 

 canal which connects Gloucester harbor 

 with Anisquam river. Through the canal 

 and down the river we glide. It is dark as 

 we cross Ipswich bay, and we keep a look- 

 out for Newburyport light. 



"We're near the bar now. Here comes 

 a roller," calls the captain. 



The little steamer stands almost perpen- 

 dicular on her bow as the water boils over 

 her rail and on to her deck. The captain 

 strikes 2 bells to stop the propeller, which 

 is out of water, and we speed over the 

 Newburyport bar as if shot from a gun. 



"That was a close call," says the captain. 

 "I wouldn't 'a'dared to come in if it had 

 been daylight. These ground swells come in 

 quick. Whv, I've been out here with a 

 boatload of bait when it was smooth as a 

 mill pond, and before we could get it 

 bailed out we were dancing up and down 

 alongside of the vessel, first above her rail 

 and then down under her bilge. It's a 

 nasty place !" Every skipper along the 

 coast knows Plum island and the New- 

 buryport bar. 



"See those lights ahead? They are torch- 



es. They hang a torch over the bow of 

 their boat, and a man aft rows while the 

 one forward bails the fish." 



Here we overhaul one of them. 



"See the fish come out of the water after 

 that torch ! He gets a netful every dip ; 

 but they are small. The big ones won't 

 run." 



By that time we are some distance up 

 the river, and the captain says, "It's time 

 to hear from the boys." Presently they 

 hail us, and tell us to "run up a little 

 farther," so as to give them room to haul. 

 We keep on 150 yards more, and drop 

 anchor. 



"Now, you fellows tumble into the dory 

 and go ashore," says the captain to us, 

 "but first you go aft and get on longlegged 

 boots and oilers. You'll find plenty of 

 them there. You don't want to be wet all 

 night in the month of December. It ain't 

 pleasant." 



We follow his advice, and are rowed 

 ashore by the 2 men whose turn it is to go 

 on the steamer and unload the bait. Mean- 

 while, the captain gets what sleep he can 

 on the seat of the pilot house. 



"Have you made a haul yet?" inquires a 

 man from our boat. 



"Yes," someone answers, "we hauled be- 

 low there, but didn't strike them very solid. 

 Got about 10 barrels. It's time they showed 

 up now." 



"Suppos'n we row the seine boat out a 

 little way, and see if we can feel them?" 

 We row out into the river, when someone 

 says : 



"There's a flip. I heard it, just below us." 



"And there's a break above us." 



"They're dipping all around us," say a 

 number of voices. We push down our 

 oars and feel the fish strike against them 

 their whole length. 



"Back her in, boys," says the man in 

 command. "Here, you fellows on shore, 

 catch this warp. Now, let her go, boys, and 

 make a good turn. I can't throw the net and 

 watch the boat too. Turn her a little more. 

 That's right. Keep her the way she's go- 

 ing. Now row her in shore." 



The other warp runs out over the stern 

 of the boat, as fast as 6 men pulling an oar 

 each can make it. We are fortunate 

 enough to land at the proper place, and the 

 way the men spring out of the boat is a 

 caution to cripples. 



"Come, bend on, here !" shouts a voice 

 from the darkness. "Remember that hang 

 above us. The tide is setting up strong, 

 and we don't want to get torn up to-night. 

 Race her in, boys. Now, pull all together." 



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