Nov. 28, 1903.1 
FOREST AND STREAM. 
42B 
HAULING IN AN EIGHT-INCH HAWSER. 
"a six thousand P0u5rD anchor was HANGING." 
A Few Days Off Shore. 
BY F. L. ENO. 
I CAME ashore from the Dingley early one Sunday 
morning, hired a rnan to set me across to South Port- 
land, and chmbed up the ladder and over the rail of the 
five-masted schooner Jennie French Potter, of New 
York, which lay in the mud with her bowsprit over the 
wall. The decks were deserted, but as I stood unde- 
cided, the steward poked his head out of his galley door 
and hove a bucket of water on deck. 
"Anybody awake, steward?" 
"No, sir. Ole man ain't come up yet." 
"Was he expecting anybody to-day?" 
"He ain't said nothing to me, sir; was you going with 
us?" 
"Sure. Can you take care of me for a couple of 
weeks?" 
"Lor' bless yer, yes. Looks like you could hold a 
good deal, too," and the ivories glistened. 
"Where's the engineer?" 
"He ain't out yet, either. It's about time. The ole 
man ought to be up pretty soon." 
"All right, I'll wait. Now just make that grip fast 
to this line, will you, please. Mister, and then that 
camera — easy on that. That's all; you needn't wait. 
I shall not go back." 
The sun was barely above the horizon and that de- 
licious freshness of the new day was in the air; in the 
harbor the glassy water reflected every spar and buoy, 
and the quiet was unbroken save by the fussy puffing 
of the little launch which had brought me across. 
I spent a few minutes in a stroll around decks and 
turned to find the captain at my elbow. 
"So you are here, after all? Well, I expect to go to 
sea to-morrow night; they are going to clean her bot- 
tom to-morrow and I hope to get out at high water. 
She was pretty foul last trip; would hardly move on 
the passage up. But bring your things down and 
make yourself at home. AVhen we get to sea and have 
this coal dust washed ofif she will look like something. 
I'm glad to get out of coal for one trip; can't keep 
anything looking decent while you have it aboard. So 
you would like to see some wind? Well you may at 
this time of year. I do hate to South in September. 
You never know what to expc\r. E\er been in Fer- 
nandiua? Great place. It's a good, healthy port; best 
in Florida. But I wouldn't go this trip, only there are 
so many vessels bound for coal ports ahead of us I 
am afraid we sliould never get loaded. We've been 
here in Portland thirty-ciglit days now and on de- 
murrage ten days, so I can't kick. But that crowd 
down there (pointing down tlie harbor wliere 50.000 
tons of coal lay in twenty or more big four and five- 
masters') are all on their time and losing money every 
day. They soak me ashore, tho'. They say, 'Oh, yes, 
3'ou are Captain Potter of the Potter. Well, Cap- 
tain, they say, you are making money like everything 
laying here. Guess you can pay for that all right. 
Come down.' " 
The Jennie Potter is one of the monster five-masters 
that are coming into favor so rapidly, and is considered 
a fliyer. Built in Camden, Maine, in 1899, she is prac- 
tically a new vessel; and having been painted on the 
last trip, looked like a yacht, despite the marks of 
cargo. As far as I was concerned she was a yacht, 
and this was a yachting trip, and on a big scale. Of 
1,794 tons measurement, 279ft. on top, 44ft- beam and 
drawing 24ft. loaded, she gave her master all the 
trouble and care he wanted when on the coast or work- 
ing over the shoals; and the prospect of a trip in her 
at this season of the year when there might be some- 
thing doing was highly pleasing. 
Sunday, Sept. 13, was the first of three extremely hot 
days, and I divided the time loafing on deck, going in 
swimming in the harbor from the small boat and tak- 
ing a few snapshots, besides lending a hand when so 
inclined at any pulhng and hauling that was going on. 
Needless to say, we did not get to sea at the expected 
time. 
Alongside of us, over on her side, lay the hull of an 
old Italian bark, the Adele, which had put in at 
land the last winter, and after various mishaps, getting 
ashore and leaking, had been towed here and run on 
the mud. It was the old and the new in contrasting 
juxtaposition; the poor little, old, stranded bark high- 
sided and slow, and the magnificent new schooner, the 
exponent of Maine's famous industry, which could have 
stowed the old bark in her hold. 
' Monday morning a gang attacked the sides with 
brooms and scrapers, and the second mate and I got 
the sail covers off, rolled up and stowed away, while 
the captain went uptown to finish up some business. 
The engine man, with whom I had sailed before, was 
a bright young fellow from Down East, who had been 
in the schooner since she was launched. He had 
hoisted her masts in at Camden, and when the immense 
foremast, weighing many tons, was hanging over the 
engine room, where he was standing at the lever, his 
first work as an engine man, he began to think of 
things which happily did not occur. 
The second mate, a stocky, muscular German, who 
proved to be the best man in the ship, had just come 
aboard, having left the barkentine, Jesse MacGregor, 
which lay alongside. "We pumped all der passage," 
explained in full the reason for his change; and one 
glance at the little old hooker confirmed the justness 
of his choice. 
The steward, a colored man of about fifty, was a 
deep-water cook, who understood his business, as ap- 
peared later, and for neatness and skill had few equals. 
The mate, a Dutchman, who could barely make him- 
self r.ndcrstood, was half sick and doubtful about go- 
ing, but he hated to leave and was a good man, as the 
neat appearance of paint and bright work and rigging 
proved. 
About II o'clock a hail came from the dock, and the 
steward looked over the rail." 
"Here come my dogs," with a rich, mellow chuckle, 
"I'll feed 'em well to-day; start in right, you know." 
The sailors dragged their dunnage in a motley col- 
lection of bags and boxes into the hole at the forward 
end of the forward house, which was to be their home 
for the next month or so. It at least furnished shelter. 
The big donkey engine occupied the after and greater 
part of the forward house, and the temperature of both 
places was far from agreeable. After dinner the mate 
came aft. 
"I wish you would go ashore and see if you can find 
the capen and tell him to come aboard as soon as he 
can. The men won't turn to and want to go ashore. 
You take the boat and pull across." 
I started for the ladder, but two of the men were 
coming aft dragging their bags after them. When 
they saw me they dropped the bags and ran for the 
rail, but I got there first, cast off the painter and was 
halfway down the ladder when their heads came over 
the side. 
"Hi, there, mister, set us ashore, will yer?" No 
reply. 
"Mister, put us ashore, please; we want to go 
ashore." No reply. 
"You blankety blank, come back here and set u.s 
ashore. Well, good luck to yer," and then followed 
a few choice remarks aimed at the vessel and her inno- 
cent passenger. They stayed aboard. 
After a long hunt around town I gave it up and pulled 
back. 
"Well, they have gone," said the mate. 
"Gone? Where?" 
He pointed to the bow line which stretched taut as 
a bar of iron from the bow chock to the dock. 
"One of them slid down that bow fast and stole a 
dory and came back for the others. Everybody around 
was guying them and me. Now you will have to go 
back and find the old man somehow and tell ' him he 
will have to get another crew." 
A second trip was more successful. 
"Well, that beats all. However, when the tug comes 
alongside you tell the mate to haul her off the flats 
and anchor down in the roads. I will come off with 
another crew." 
But no crew came that afternoon. The following 
day the tug appeared, and on her forward deck a group 
of six reeling, drunken beasts, cursing heaven and hell 
and all between, who were helped up the ladder and 
over the rail, and who immediately disappeared below, 
where fight and revelry held sway, judging from the 
sounds that found their way aft. The better part of 
the dny they stayed in or around the forecastle drink- 
