102 
FOREST AND STREAM. 
['Aug. 6, 189)! 
Thieves' Ledge. 
It was the chief Clam who started it. Howard was 
his front name, while as for his last Clam will do as 
well as any other, since we were all brothers in mis- 
fortune, and it is the singular, not to say plural, habit of 
brothers to have a common denominator all the world 
over. And our particular denominator, at least as far 
as the. purposes of this story are concerned, was Clam. 
In other words, we three, Howard, Robert, the auburn 
haired, and the writer, were the alpha and omega, the 
beginning and the end — likewise the middle — of the 
"Clam Club." 
Now it might be supposed from this that we belonged 
to the Board of Aldermen, and went on exploring ex- 
peditions to determine the exact amount of tideway that 
ruffled the waters between Hull Gut and Siasconset, in- 
cluding a shore dinner at government expense. Or 
that we inspected the dumping scows that improve the 
channel to our harbor by semi-occasionally dropping a 
dozen tons or so of refuse into it; or that we followed 
the lighthouse launch on its rounds, from the spider- 
legged tower of Bug Light to the tall, needle-like obe- 
lisk of Minot's — with the accompanying shore dinner. 
Or that we examined into the condition of the penal 
settlement at Deer Island, with no immediate determina- 
tion of taking up our own residence there, although it 
might be a fitting habitation for some of our fellow 
members, and ending by a cautious advance toward the 
muddy and tortuous channel, that must be threaded be- 
fore are reached the grand crescent in the sea, and the 
fleecy breakers that so softly wash and swash in hissing 
coolness up the sunny sands of rare Najttasket; where 
too are brave shore dinners; likewise rival hissers by the 
sea, except soda fountains; likewise, too, a brass band. 
But nevertheless a truthful narration determines the 
fact that we were not members of the Board of Alder- 
men as yet: although in strict accordance with the 
proverb of the ancients, to call no man happy until after 
he is dead, it would not be wise to prophesy that we were 
not reserved for that or some other exalted fate. The 
prospects seem to point that way, according to another - 
equally well-known proverb in regard to certain ones 
who were at least not born to be drowned. But this 
brings us back again to our starting point, for we certain- 
ly were members of the Clam Club. 
The Clam Club, then, was a collection of units who 
were unitedly a single unit as to the advisability of 
leaving the glorious Fourth to celebrate itself if we could 
contrive to escape beyond its tin-horned noise. We also 
had decided that the best way to accomplish this was to 
join hands with the Y. M. C. A. in chartering a tug; to 
run said tug down Boston Harbor until abreast of 
Minot's Light, where lay a rocky expanse of bottom 
called Thieves' Ledge, and then and there to cast over- 
board such benevolent invitations to the inhabitants to 
come in out of the wet that no thing that wore a fin 
ought to doubt the integrity of our intentions. So we 
chartered the tug overnight. 
That was a singularly quiet morning for the Fourth! 
Waking, dozing, half expecting a cannon cracker to go 
off beneath the window at any moment, it was not until 
the sudden bleat of a tin horn aroused us that we be- 
came conscious that it was raining furiously and the 
streets were all awash. Was there ever such luck for a 
Fourth of July? 
Of course the tug was countermanded, when sudden- 
ly the wind shifted, and in ten minutes there was a 
brkrht sun overhead, and we sprang to the telephone. 
"Br-r-r-r-r-r-r-r-r-r-r-r-rng!" 
"Bing!" came the laconic reply. 
"Hello, Centrall Give me 479—2." 
"Bing— bing!" 
"Is this 479?" 
"Yes." 
"Fire up, Captain! Reckon we'll go after all." 
"After what?" came the still, small voice upon the 
wire. 
"A-i-1, all; anyhow, regardless, weather or no. Saber 
Apparently the Captain didn't "sabe" in spite of the 
string of synonyms which Robert had fired at him in 
the hope of his comprehending one of them. So the 
monologue continued. Finally: 
"Who are you, anyhow?" 
A pause. ^ „ 
"Oh, thunder! We don't want you! Hello, Central! 
we wanted 470—2, and you've given us 479; we want the 
tug boat Josephine, and not a blamed soap factory! 
Try it again!" 
"Bing!" 
"Is this Captain McLane?" 
"Good; I've been trying to get you this ten minutes, 
and thev gave me the soap factory down at. the point; 
altogether too patriotic. 'To Greece we give our shmmg 
blades'— some other day. Say, fire up! Get the bait! 
We ' H C i u 
"Bing!" and Robert came out of the box and began 
to dance a hornpipe before he wired messages to the 
other boys. ;■ 
N. B. — Boys by brevet; youngest still m the thirties. 
The tug boat Josephine lay with her fenders over the 
side, steaming away as quietly as an old tea kettle on the 
kitchen fire. Central Wharf was in a bustle. There were 
at least fifty boys of other varieties and of all sizes roam- 
ing over it when we reached the boat, and promptly took 
up a comfortable position on the roof. Everything was 
dripping, the water below looked oilier than ever, and 
the harbor was resonant with grum whistles as the 
steamers shrieked their appreciation of the weather and 
the day The shipping in the stream were all decked 
in bunting or at the very least had their colors hoisted. 
Even the dingy, spritsailed dory of a longshoreman had 
a pennv flag at the masthead, standing stiffly as a shingle 
right tin into the wind's eye, instead of floating on the 
breeze like its magnificent but silken aristocrats of 
neighbors. It was "something" to be able to defy the 
gales like that. An imp of a boy on a coal barge near 
was unable to resist the temptation and let drive a 
chunk of ebony straight at the erratic .emblem of liberty, 
which, true to its motto of eternal vigilance being the 
price thereof, deftly swung out of range as the dory rose 
and fell on the swell of the distant ferry boat, its owner 
threatening dire vengeance on the grinning apostle of 
smut "if he dared to do it again." 
Meanwhile the crowd of boys upon the wharf surged 
suddenly on board as though there was great danger of 
being left behind. A deckhand was leisurely thrusting 
6ft. rods of curved iron in occasional holes on the edge 
of the upper deck, and began to stretch an awning from 
their tips. 
A boy came hastily down the wharf. 
"Where's the Cap'n? Hi! Cap'n McLane! them 
clams hain't come!" 
"What?" 
The captain looked as though he could not believe his 
ears. 
"Nor the hooks V lines nuther; an' what's more, old 
Bill says as how you said as they wouldn't be wanted, and 
his mate locked 'em up an' has gorn a-coortin', bein' as 
it's a holiday." 
Shades of the Pilgrims and John Endicott! Such 
language in classic Boston, under the very walls of 
Harvard University — when the earth is tipped just right. 
Captain McLane is naturally a good tempered man; 
more, he is a long suffering man, and he carried a cargo 
of Y. M. C. A.s and three others. But at this juncture 
he. felt himself to be the apex of a pyramid or the focus 
of a blowpipe in which was centered all the pent up im- 
patience of fifty eager boys. He represented those boys; 
and when he got through with his remarks relevant to 
the stupidity of longshoremen in general and old Bill's 
mate in particular, there wasn't a boy on board who would 
not instantly have cast his vote in favor of the Cap'n 
to justly represent him individually in the halls of Con- 
gress. But it cleared the air, and for an hour we waited 
in measurable patience for the missing lines and clams, 
as light skirmishers had been speedily sent out for more. 
The hour lengthened into two, and still we swung lazily 
at the wharf, exploding firecrackers in the water, listen- 
ing to the boom of distant guns — and getting into mis- 
chief. Fifty boys can get together without mischief; but 
it is about once in a century, and some other fifty must 
have absorbed the honors of the nineteenth era, and 
moreover they didn't have fifty rubber catapults among 
them as we did. But it was the coal barges that started 
it, as an idea. 
It is wonderful what a range a healthy rubber sling can 
attain; and after the coal episode the very next long- 
shoreman was suddenly transported in mind back to his 
soldiering days and made to believe that he once more 
stood half-way up the heights of red Fredericksburg. 
He was drifting slowly by, trimming his sheets as flat as 
possible as he hugged the wind. It was too tempting. 
Fifty pairs of hands stole to their side pockets, and 
straight across the intervening water flew, at the snapof 
the cords, as many torpedoes of the largest size, strik- 
ing the boards of the dory with a thundering crash. 
Well, that old soldier let fly his sheet and came straight 
for us! I never saw a madder man. A boat hook lay 
ready to his hand, heavily shod with iron, and it was 
clear as harbor mud that he meant to use it. 
"We're in for it, boys," said Howard, coolly. "Repel 
hoarders, or he'll have some of us into tft*e drink!" and 
the snap of a cord lent emphasis to his words. 
On came the boat. A flaw of wind caused it to heel 
slightly, exposing the brighter yellow of the bottom, 
while the sun fell full upon the dark sail, gilding the 
canvas with a dazzle and a skimmer. With a crash a 
score of torpedoes exploded on the sides, as with a deft 
turn of the helm the rest of the flying missiles were 
caught in the yielding cloth and glanced with a harsh 
rasp along the seams before they shot harmlessly into 
the sea. Right, left, the swift boat swung at her mas- 
ter's motion. A second more and it would be alongside. 
Suddenly a swift change swept across the rugged face of 
the longshoreman. The fire died from his eye. Bring- 
ing the boat into the wind again— a proceeding that made 
us pause in turn from sheer astonishment — from the 
bearded lips came these startling words: 
"Be you the Y. M. C. A.? You be? Wall, when you 
fellows kneel down to-night an' arsk God to take care of 
ye, suppose you take a minnit ter think wut sort of 
Christians ye ware in the inornin'!" 
The next instant, with a flirt of the helm, his sail had 
caught the breeze, and the fleet old boat was rods away, 
leaving us looking at each other, blank and ready to 
punch our own heads. What was to be done? Evidently 
nothing; not so evidently either, as one proved. The 
boat was nearly 100yds. away, when Howard drew 
something hastily from his pocket, flung back his arm 
with a round sweep and hurled a glittering object across 
the water. It "scaled" as a flat stone would in a broad 
curve wide of the boat, then as though attracted to it 
by some mysterious force, it swung inward, struck the 
sail at about the first reef near the mast and dropped with 
a clear ring that was distinctly audible in spite of the 
distance safe in the bottom of the dory— a freshly minted 
silver dollar! 
"Howard, you always think of the right thing, said 
Robert, a little grimly for him, "but if you had con- 
siderately told us, too, before it was too late, you would 
have spared me the painful duty of kicking myself around 
the block at the first convenient opportunity." 
There was a laugh and a cheer— "Our sentiments e\- 
,lL And what was this, an answering cheer? From up the 
long wharf two boys came running, hot, dusty, covered 
with perspiration, with the queer, three-legged gait pecu- 
liar to haste and a two-boy burden. What were they 
shouting? "Clams— oh!" . 
Ten minutes later the Josephine was steaming swiftly 
down the harbor. 
Cling! went the captain's bell, and the churning 
propeller stopped. 
Clin°- cling! and it gave a turn or two backward, then 
cling and it stopped again. Over with the -lines! and in 
a twinkling each hook was baited with a fat clam without 
a jacket, two dangling hooks to every line, with lib. of 
lead 6ft above them on the main line. Heavy? Not too 
heavv for unless the line was dropped straight down by 
the vessel's side, the swift tide carried it far out, and the 
fishing was vain, "Drop it straight down; don't cj 
it till the lead strikes bottom, then pull it up a foofj 
bite? Robert is a lucky one! Yard by yard the, 
comes in over the rail" at racing speed, and wij 
whoop up flies a crab as big as a dinner plate. No 
to laugh, for up in the bow come half a dozen sci 
and at the stern somebody has just hauled in a siL 
hake! Robert ties the arms of his rubber coat aP 
him like an apron to keep the water from his knees, 
drops a line again. A bite, Howard? How that 
whizzes in! and up comes a brick-— no, a terra cotta 
wrong yet except in color, for no brick was ever so 
ly outside of a Donnybrook fair, no tile ever yawnedi 
so wide a mouth a.s does this splendid rock cod, a] 
cheer runs like a line of fireworks from stem to a 
But something is the matter with my line. It has fcl 
with a weed perhaps; a careless tug — shades of Jc 
for a minute that line makes me dance a Highland' 
as it cuts into the fingers; then up it comes in turn 
on the deck a iolb. haddock flops and quivers, no 
gray fish of the market slab, but one _ that seel, 
flash of quivering blue flame of the daintiest, most: 
cate coloring seen in the world outside of a rair 
This is the true sport of deep sea fishing, the tttte; 
certainty of what each bite will bring forth, perhi' 
prize, perchance a savage shark, or perhaps but o. 
the orange-podded seaweeds that look like nothir' 
much as a burglar's "billy." 
"Lines in!" 
"What's that for, Captain?" For answer the ca 
points seaward, and over the distant point a cold, 
sea fog is swiftly sweeping in, dense as a granite 
in seeming. "Cling!" 
For answer there came a low, crashing sound, a 
the first half-turn the splash of the propeller stoppe 
part of the engine had given way. 
The captain gave a startled exclamation and i 
through the tube to the engineer, but the answer WJ 
reassuring. The damage itself was slight, but.it i 
take time to repair it, and time was the one thint 
could not be spared just now. "There's no help f 
in with that awning, men; up with the foresail; m: 
halliards. Sam! You, Bob, castloose the mainsail— us 
knife on the stops; no time to waste! Jump, men. 1 
oh!" and in a twinkling the canvas covers.-werc cs 
the booms and the two gray sails crept up the mas', 
ghosts. Then with a suddenness that was startlin 
wraiths of mist came swirling across the deck and 
ted out the world just after the keen old seaman s 
back to the compass and took his bearings before tl 
landmark was lost in the smother. There was a 
trifle of wind, hardly enough to keep steerageway. 
"What'll we do if that fails us?" said somebody. 
"Oh, we can anchor if it comes to that; but not 1 
There's too many fool skippers drifting round for 
drop mudhook right here in the ship channel whil 
travels a foot an hour." 
It was almost like a prophecy, that statement, 
words were hardly out. of his mouth when there c 
startled yell from the deck outside, and out Iron 
dense cloud of drizzling mist loomed up the tov 
sails of a huge coasting schooner, black with coa 
like a raven of evil, coming in with the fog, . 
crept along the water like an animated blanket, s 
by the guidance of a pilot who had ascended to tl: 
of the foretopsail far akove the heavy stratum of 
that covered our own derrick-like masts; heading st 
for US. . 
"Hard a-port!" came a voice from far aloft, m c 
■ to the yell. "Hard down!" 
Slowly the great pyramid swerved aside with a 
ly sweep, aside from the fatal directness of her 
course enough to avoid a direct collision, but not e 
for clearance. The huge beam of a bowsprit like £ 
in rest plunged ripping through the mainsail, si 
with a huge twang the shrouds, and lunged strai 
the foremast. There was a creak, a crash, a snapp 
timbers and a hurricane of yells, then with a swii 
poor little foremast toppled forward over the bow 
the mammoth old five-master, with hardly a scar, cl 
grinding past and vanished in the mist, leaving us 
ing at one another as though it was all a dream,: 
most unpleasant dream at that, 
"Where's the captain?" 
Sure enough, where was he? Nay. where w 
wheel house? for the mast lay across what see; 
pile of kindling wood, from the depths of which (j 
series of muffled shouts for help. We rushed tor 
heaved the fragments right and left. Presently H 
gave a shout— he had uncovered a foot. "Are yov 
Captain? If you ain't just wriggle your toes!" Tfj 
kicked! At that we all gave a cheer and dug the 1| 
and presently got out the other foot. Then somi 
dicious hand got hold of a coat tail, and there 
mighty rip, together with some emphatic remark 
the woodpile. Finally we fairly lifted him out 
uppermost and stood him right side up with 
scratched, dusty, red in the face, but unmistakab 
captain. His first act was to rush for the lower deH 
shout: 
"Bob, where's that boat compass?" 
"Ashore, sir!" 
The captain whistled a long whistle, that had stj 
of feeling enough to raise a gale of wind. The m 
statit he was back on the upper deck clearing aw; 
anchor, which dropped with a sullen plunge frq 
bow'"*., , S V 1 
"Why, Captain, I thought you said you w) 
anchor?" said somebody, amazed. 
"Got to! binnacle's smashed. Compass busted!" \ 
laconic response, as he turned to give orders for 
loose the raffle around the bows. The rest of u 
long breaths, while Howard, after assuring hinis< 
he could be of no especial assistance, calmly got 
fish line, and presently had a big cod whopping 
the deck, an example which stimulated the ideasj 
others thitherward. i 
Well, we stayed there till nearly the turn of tl, 
swaying at anchor. The engineer reported that 1 
gine was all right, and still we swung head to the 
with the lapsing waves drifting great orange anc 1 
masses of seaweed across the cable, We were tl 
of supper most seriously, and still we swung. 1 
