Mir oh 30, 1895. 
FOREST AND STREAM. 
249 
A WEEK ON BARNEGAT. 
Early in August last, business called me to the office of 
the "Daily Spray," where I found James E. Burt, usually 
so bland and courteous, in a fever of ill-concealed disgust 
and upsetment. Two typos, shut in the composing 
room, and a recalcitrant press on which he was spending 
vain endeavor to bring to proper adjustment were the 
causes of his mental distractment. 
"Say!" he broke out as he saw me regarding his ink- 
besmirched face with an amazed smile, "When September 
1st comes I am going to leave this blessed town for one 
week, and go to some point where I'll not hear of busi- 
ness nor any of its relations. I'm tired out with this 
ceaseless grinding," and as if to emphasize the fact, he 
dashed his wrench to the floor and sat down on a con- 
venient box. We began arranging for a week's outing. 
"I'll leave the matter in your hands entirely as to de- 
tails," he resumed, "and what do you say to Barnegat as 
our point?" 
-Suits me exactly; in fact it would be hard to take me 
anywhere else at the time proposed, as fishing will be at 
its best, and the weather should be all that could be de- 
sired," I rejoined. 
"I'll go with you boys," broke in a familiar voice, and 
looking up, we saw Mr. Devereux, Billy Devereux, as he 
is familiarly known to the newspaper world, and to the 
entire State, generally, who had noiselessly approached us . 
A simultaneous groan from each of us was not lost on 
him. "I'll be good, boys! Honor brightl You can have 
your own way with everything!" Billy is about the best 
fellow who ever wielded a pen, but his propensity for 
practical jokes is so great as to keep some one in hot 
water continually. 
"You'll not go with us unless you first go before a 
justice and enter under bonds to keep the peace,'' I 
ventured. "We don't propose having our lives worried 
out of us by your persistent deviltry." 
"I'll be as meek as the great Hebrew prophet, and do 
all sorts of chores," ending with an irresistible "Say! can 
I go?" He was accordingly voted third man, and two 
days later our party was complete in the persons of 
Messrs. H. B. Ayres and W. C. Burroughs. 
Irrespective of what the day might prove to be, the 
third day of September was set for the start. Burt was 
appointed commissary, and in my hands were left all de- 
tails as to yacht and conveniences. As our week's cruise 
demonstrated, no party ever was in better hands than 
was ours while in the hands of Morton Johnson, Captain 
of the stout yacht Mary Louise. 
The morning of September 3 broke dark and threaten- 
ing. As we went to the depot in the early light, fitful 
giists of wind swept through the streets and played merry 
tag with our numerous bundles. All hands, however, 
were promptly on time, and we were soon en route on the 
Pennsylvania' Railroad to Barnegat pier, where we found 
that our every requirement had been anticipated, even to 
a good supply of melons carefully stored in the yacht. 
"What of the weather, Captain?" I asked, as prepara- 
tory to sailing all eyes were fixed on the frolicking white 
caps which went chasing each other in wild glee. 
"She's bio win' 'bout half a gale now, and unless I'm no 
prophet, before noon we'll get a regular screamer, but I 
think it's a dry storm, and we can ride it out all right. 
Say," he continued, "are all you fellows good sailors? If 
not. we had better make the first lee shelter and anchor 
until she blows out." 
"G-ive us Cedar Creek Point, Captain!' I said, "these 
fellows are in my hands now, and the boat is in yours. If 
they are poor sailors it is their misfortune to be caught in 
a blow. We can find good anchorage there, besides good 
fishing. " 
"Well, we'll reef close and go," was his remark, and in 
a brief few minutes we were working our way among the 
innumerable craft out to the open bay, where, catching 
the wind, our yacht shot out like a race horse, and a 
beautiful six mile run, in an incredibly short space of 
time was the result. 
As we ran onto the fishing grounds, the Captain, point- 
ing to the rifts in the clouds, remarked, "I think we've 
seen the worst of this blow. We'll drop anchor here 
and have a go at the weak-fish. If it freshens again we 
can make Shelter Cove safe enough. The tide is right, 
and if the fish are on the feed, we'll find 'em in the lee 
channel, sure." And with a sweep of the tiller, the craft 
swung her nose to the wind, took up the slack of the 
cable and began riding the swells like a water-bird. The 
gale had dropped to a steady fresh breeze. The elements 
at last promised a good day's sport. 
Inside the boat all was bustle. The jointing of the rods 
and setting of reels, the adjustment of floats and selec- 
tion of leaders, made a merry confusion in the good- 
natured rivalry to secure the first fish. 
"Bait's ready, gentlemen!" sang out the" Captain from 
above. He had been busy at work on our shedder crabs. 
"The one who first lands a fish gets the best dinner." 
Simultaneously, all lines were dropped overboard and 
paid out to the tide, the brightly painted floats dancing 
in perfect rhythm to the undulating waters. A sudden 
whoop from the emotional Devereux started all hands. 
He had a glorious strike and scored a clean miss, which 
brought a reminder that in the future silence on his part 
would be golden. 
And now the turn came to the Captain and myself. 
Each secured a strike at the same instant, and each 
hooked his fish, followed by magnificent play on the part 
of the quarry. With that extra dinner in view, I rushed 
my fish; but my pliant bethabara rod was no match for 
the Captain's hand line, in point of speed, and he scored 
a clear victory by at least twenty feet and won his own 
reward, but was so ridiculed by the whole party that he 
laughingly said that in future he guessed he'd cut bait. 
"Well, Captain," spoke up Burt, -you find us pretty, 
good sailors I guess. I have always thought that sea- 
sickness was nothing but nervousness, which by exercise 
of the will could be thrown off." 
"Well, if that is so," he rejoined, "I have seen some ex- 
tremely nervous people in my time." 
We had found the fish on the feed, sure enough. Small 
time now for talk. Each one was intent in his own be- 
half. The turbulent character of the water made the 
strike, when secured, of uncertain quantity; and when the 
fish was well hooked, as was frequently the case at a dis- 
tance of 200 w more feet, the action of the water, added 
to the surging and pitching of the yacht, placed the pros- 
pects of capture on a basis of about three to one in favor 
of the fish. 
For a moment, let us consider the weak-fish as he is, 
and I trust will ever remain. The true trout of the sea. 
None of the fauna of creation is to me more sublimely 
beautiful. The weak-fish, as usually seen in the stall of 
the fish monger, and the beautiful creature bearing the 
same name and just out of his native element, are totally 
unlike, save in form, for that moment alone is he to be 
seen in his indescribable beauty. Comparing the efforts 
of man to reproduce the matchless silver sheen of their 
scales, as still wet with the brine they throw out an ir- 
idescent splendor, his efforts sink into insignificance. 
And who, by looking, can tell where the blush of the pink 
and the purple of the iris begin and end on his perfect 
body? or what artist would care to undertake to match 
the yellow of fin and throat? Innumerable times, as I 
have stood regarding in silent admiration some particu- 
larly fine specimen which had fallen to my rod, and as 
the peculiar gutteral soun I which they frequently emit 
reached my ear, it has assumed the nature of plaintive 
protest against the irony of their fate and an humble ap- 
peal for restoration to liberty. 
Just when the family broil took place which caused 
this great estrangement. I knew not. Icthyologists tell us 
that he is not a trout, and does not even occupy the posi- 
tion of second cousin. Still, they cannot deny that the 
contour of body and fin of many of the lake trout and 
that of the weak- fish is nearly identical. His manner of 
feeding is in many ways similar. He takes the bait with 
a snap, followed instantly by. a rush, which suggests his 
ownership of the tackle and his determination to take im- 
mediate possession. His appetite, too, is capricious. I 
have fished for hours when thousands of them were in 
evidence, without a bite; however, of a sudden they 
would take the bait in any position offered. Irrespective 
of his family relations, he is a royal good fellow, and, as 
such, is esteemed by all lowers of salt-water fishing. 
And now, back to the point of digression. Three hours 
of solid sport had but whetted our appetites for more. The 
Captain had been below preparing for dinner. He came 
on deck, and the instant his eye swept the horizon, he 
exclaimed, "Boys, why didn't you call me?" So intent 
had we a been that we had paid no attention to the ele- 
ments; indeed, I hardly think we would have noted the 
fact had it begun raining. "All tackle in!" was the first 
command, "and„let two men bear a hand with me. If 
we don't catch a storm inside of ten minutes there's noth- 
ing in signs. The rest of you go below and make every- 
thing fast! Close and lock the windows!" 
The cause^of thisfanxiety was plainly apparent. Hang- 
ing directly over the bay was a gigantic pall-like cloud, 
draped in fancy festoons on its lower edge and already 
sweeping the surface of the water not more than two 
miles away. Directly through its center was an ominous 
gray streak, which needed no trained eye to tell that it 
was wind, which was already in evidence among our top 
rigging. Suddenly there was a, dead calm, in which 
myriads of gulls swirled, uttering their discordant cries. 
The whole scene was grand and weird beyond description. 
A shiver through the entire length of the yacht, followed 
instantly by a blinding sheet of water, and the wild race 
through a September hurricane began. Luckily, our 
cable was in and our anchor shipped. 
"Can we make Shelter Cove, Captain?" was the first 
query. 
"No, nothing to do now but run before it," was the 
short rejoinder. "We'd go ashore trying to round the 
point. We've got a thirteen miles run to make, and it's a 
nasty trip." 
Our sail had been shortened to the last leach and 
trimmed in only enough to keep the boat steady. Still, 
our rail was far under water, and the side of the cabin 
was continually awash. As we were driven ahead like a 
catapult, we now, for the first time, felt the long swell 
from the ocean which came rolling in through the inlet, 
and the effect of the terrific wind was to kick up a 
wretchedly exasperating sea. It required the sea legs of 
an old salt to move at all. 
Turning from where I had been taking account of our 
fish, forty-six in number, and a fine lot they were, I en- 
countered Burt, who was in the cabin. A deathly pallor 
was on his face, and such a woe-begone expression in 
general I have never before seen. Nudging Devereux, 
who was contemplating the exciting condition of affairs 
on the outside, I suggested doing something to relieve 
Burt's distress. One glance at his suffering partner was 
sufficient [to arouse all his well known propensities as a 
torment. 
"I'd exercise a little will power and throw off this nerv- 
ousness," was his first remark. "For a great strapping 
fellow like you to give way to this weakness is disgust- 
ing. Here, smoke this cigar! It may be your last 
chance." 
Poor Burt! His pallor now changed to a greenish yel- 
low. He was powerless to resist the unmerciful teasing. 
"Here is something I think will settle your case, " con- 
tinued the persecutor, at the same time holding inclose 
proximity to his mouth a long strip of pure fat bacon to 
which he had tied a bit of stout string. "You swallow 
the pork," I do not recommerd this an ac infallible 
remedy for sea-sickness, but the effect in this case was 
magical. 
Our objective point was the large cove near the old 
town of Barnegat. Once inside and we could get good 
protection from the hedges which fringe the banks. To- 
war I that point we were then being driven, leaping from 
crest to crest of the waves,' now and then down in the 
trough of the sea, the merciless wind driving a sheet of 
water with us, making it impossible to see more than a 
few rods ahead. 
The humor of the Captain had entirely changed from 
that of the rollicking good fellow of a few hours before 
to the taciturn personage who feels the responsibility of 
his position and is intent on the discharge of important 
duty. 
"Now, boys, our time has come to make shelter, and I 
guess we can go in all right if we haven't anything but a 
rag of a sail up," m as the comment. "We can be pretty 
sure of no boat lying in the mouth of the cove." 
Almost immediately, his sharp "Look there!" attracted 
our attention, and peering through the cloud of rain and 
spray we saw the outline of a large three-masted schooner 
Which had put in from the ocean for shelter, and which 
was lying directly in the channel of the cove. A look of 
anxiety for a moment showed on his face, followed in- 
stantly by one of determination. With a muttered "I'll 
go in under her stern," he set the rudder hard down, 
closed hauled the sheet, and, with not five feet_to spare, 
we shot under the schooner's stern and rounded inside the 
cove, where in less than a half-mile run we were in quiet 
waters, and where they were powerless to do us any harm. 
Having made and eaten dinner, we went ashore, visit- 
ing the quaint old town of Barnegat. The wind lightened 
by the time we returned, and being tired out, we turned 
in and knew nothing more until daylight. 
The Captain's cheery "All hands up!" brought every 
man to his feet. The wind had veered to the westward. 
Although the sky was overcast, there was promise of a 
good day. Anxious to reach Beach Haven, we requested 
the Captain to stand out at once. At 2 o'clock, we 
dropped anchor off Beach Haven, where we had been in- 
formed fishing was most excellent. Inquiry among the 
crews near us elicited the fact that for ten days little or 
nothing had been caught, owing to the presence of an im- 
mense school of porpoises which had been in evidence for 
several days past, and the result of our endeavors justified 
the complaint. 
Moving over about two miles, we struck a school of sea 
bass, and within two hours had boated eighty-six of them, 
which provided excellent sport. During the afternoon, a 
continuous fleet of yachts was moving up the bay. From 
all the same story came. No fish below, water alive with 
porpoises. This to us was discouraging, as we had in- 
tended taking in Atlantic City and Anglesea, both 
famous spots for striped bass, weak-fish and king fish, be- 
sides an occasional drum and sheepshead. 
Our objective point for the night was Sunken Ledge 
Island, where we intended trying night-fishing for striped 
bass, but we were doomed to disappointment. The wind, 
which had changed to southwest, blew in a dense fog 
from the sea. Although we had a good sailing breeze, 
the narrow channel at this point, coupled with the intense 
darkness as night came on, made sailing a treacherous 
undertaking at best. "I'm afraid we'll have to give it up 
and anchor for the night," said the Captain. "We are 
now in Great Oyster Bay, full of ^shoals and reefs. Once 
out of the channel, with nothing to guide us, we'd be 
hard aground in no time." 
Burt was busy with preparations for supper, kneeling 
before the gasolene stove. The rest of us were making 
ourselves content with watching him. If our boat had 
been struck by lightning, things couldn't have meta- 
morphosed more quickly. Ayres took a sudden bath in the 
gravy bowl, sousing Burt from head to foot. Devereax, 
too, lost his equilibrium, and finished by poking his h°ad 
hard and fast between our provision case and the yacht's 
trunk. We had struck an oyster reef while gliding along 
at good speed, and the quick run of the halliards told us 
that travel for the night was at an end. L prompt and 
careful search assured us that the yacht had sustained no 
serious injury, and being in shallow water, were in no 
danger from a possible leak. Supper over, we were pre- 
paring for an early turn-in. when we were suddenly beset 
by a swarm of mosquitoes. Driven to desperation by their 
merciless assault, we nailed up every opening, even cover- 
ing the stove-pipe hole. This had the desired effect, and 
we were once more at rrst. 
It seemed we had but little more than fallen asleep 
when I was aroused by a mo4 peculiar noise on deck 
near the bow. In an instant I was wide awake and listen- 
ing intently to the strange, long-drawn rasping sounds. 
Awakening Burroughs, he carefully crawled to the door. 
Beckoning for me, I saw a look of supreme disgust over- 
spread his face. It was Devereux trying to sing, sure 
enough. There sat the irrepressible William, his feet 
dangling in the water. We were in time to hear the con- 
cluding lines of an old fishing ballad which ran: 
"His only thought, bis ouly care. 
His only hope, and only prayer. 
For the present world and the world to come, 
"Was a string of fish and a jng of rum." 
Our wild hurrah brought him to his feet and the Cap- 
tain on deck. 
We had settled on having a trial at the snipe on the 
flats. As the tide was in our favor, guns and shells were 
out and. while we were standing across the bay, we par- 
took of a hastily prepared breakfast. 
Two hours of sport were allotted to us before the incom- 
ing tide drove us to our dory, during which time we were 
kept pretty busy. Having no stools and no way to pre- 
pare blinds, we were at a great disadvantage, but on 
counting up, we found we had twenty -seven jack-snipe 
and yellowlegs. 
And so wore away the glorious autumn days. Our 
week passed only too quick. 
Who, save those who have tried the experiment, can 
appreciate the benefit to mind and body derived from 
such an outing? Our hands and faces were browned, and 
with appetites keen as a coyote's, we reluctantly bade 
Captain Johnson good-bye and took train for home. 
Dear old Barnegat! with its thousands of pleasant 
memories of sport in the years that are past, may its 
quota of fin aud feather never be lessened. Surrounded 
on all sides by the largest cities of the East, it must ever 
remain the pleasure ground of the people. 
Thanks to the efficiency of the advocates of protection, 
ruthless netting has been stopped, and no net, other than 
for the purpose of taking bait, should ever again be al- 
lowed in its waters. 
Christmas morning, I found on my desk a handsome De 
Muth brier pipe, in satin-lined case, with the following in- 
scription: "To the only man I was ever with a whole 
week and couldn't make mad. Signed, Devereux" 
And each time as I take it from its case, some remem- 
brance of the jolly good fellowship it represents comes 
floating in at memory's window, and in fancy I hear the 
whistle of the snipe and the hum of the reel, and feel the 
electric thrill of the scaled beauty as he rises clear of the 
water, shaking a thousand sparkling diamonds in the aiifl 
at last to succumb to the inevitable, and to count one 
more on the long list of victims of rod and reel. 
Leonard Htjlit 
CHAINED 
to Business? 
Can't go Shooting? 
Do the next best thing- 
Read the 
Forest .and Stream*. 
