t 54 
FOREST AND STREAM. 
[Jan. 12, 1907. 
A Cruise in a Converted Canoe.—IV. 
Our gale continued to increase as night 
came on. “That’s a lonesome sound,” Rusk 
said. “I like it. slapping the sheets and creak¬ 
ing in the blocks, but not .that howling.” 
When morning came the wind was falling 
off a bit, and toward noon it was merely a 
strong breeze. That afternoon a Barron 
Island sloop started for the draw. As he bore 
down on it the steersman missed his aim, and 
had to come about hard down, the bowsprit 
just tipp.ing the bridge piling. He struck the 
top of a pile under water and "painted it off 
his own bottom.” We had to lend a hand with 
ropes and then he tried again, hopping up and 
down at the wheel m his nervousness, but get¬ 
ting through safely nevertheless. I went down 
to Fishing Creek Post Office with the mail 
carrier that night and got our mail. Awaiting 
the carrier’s coming were a score of women 
and two or three men, one plainly an island 
parson—big, strong and hearty, with a merry 
laugh. 
“You’ll hear from the old man this time, 
the parson said to one woman. To another he 
remarked, “You don’t belong here now—you 
won’t get any letter. Bill wrote just last 
night”— 
“He ain’t the on’y one,” the girl replied, 
with a toss of her head. 
Many of the men had gone to Delaware 
Bay, where Chesapeake Bay sailors are m 
great demand on the private beds, being the 
most expert of their kind anywhere. The 
women at home were waiting to hear from 
relatives, sweethearts and husbands, most of 
whom were on the inland waters along the 
Atlantic coast, but some few of whom had 
gone down to the deep water in larger craft. 
As each letter was scrutinized by the post¬ 
mistress, she called the name aloud. 
“Now, -who's that?” a listener would ex¬ 
claim. 
“Why, that must be that feller into Simonses 
bugeye Susan!” 
“That’s just who ’tis, I ’member now.” 
Some letters were for the lower island, and 
some* for Barron Island, on the far side of 
Tar Bay. A chorus of squeals and giggles an¬ 
nounced that some girl had heard from her 
“feller,” and one shout went up because a 
person had received a letter the -night be¬ 
fore, “And now she’s got another!” The per¬ 
son remembered that a- third person had re¬ 
ceived a letter a week before. Once the post¬ 
mistress stopped and examined a letter with 
care: 
“Now, who’s that from, Sally Ann, do you 
know that writin’?” 
I had given Rusk’s and my names to the 
postmistress on arriving, and at last, toward 
the bottom of the deck sffe read, “John Rusk!” 
The next instant she exclaimed, “Well, I de¬ 
clare, here’s anoth—gracious! Theh’s two 
more!” 
The cries and laughter stopped, and with 
curious scrutiny, the half dozen letters for us 
were handed over. 
“Well, I declare!” the mail carrier ex¬ 
claimed, “I’d ’gun to think you wa’n’t goin’ to 
git none; an’ you did git six right together, 
didn’t ye?” 
That night Rusk held forth in the post 
office. Being a stranger, the fishermen and 
oystermen went over the fields of their griev¬ 
ances. The rich pressed hard upon the poor 
in the oyster business. There should be laws 
to suppress the injustices, and there ought Jo 
be changes here and there, especially beneficial 
to Hooper’s Island. Rusk had been accumu¬ 
lating a fund of information about the locality, 
and especially about the oyster business. Sud¬ 
denly he turned on one of the speakers: 
“Now, look here,” he said, “Is there any 
oyster law you haven’t violated?” 
“No-o,” was the answer. 
“Can you imagine - any oyster law you 
wouldn’t violate?” 
“Well, no, not”— 
“You dredged forty times at night last win¬ 
ter on tongers’ grounds, didn’t you?” 
“Well-er, yes; I -was some”—■ 
“1 knew it,” Rusk burst out. “You fellows 
are whooping up for laws for the other fellows, 
while you violate any law that s put down, 
if you’d obey the law, you could make others 
obey the law,.but you won’t-do that. You go 
out and rip the oysters off the rock contrary 
to law and* reason. You kill the spats, sell the 
culls to Virginia and Delaware, and grab off 
every standard you can get anywhere, by hook 
or crook. You aren’t satisfied with doing 
honest day’s work the year around, but want to 
get enough off two months’ tonging or dredg¬ 
ing to last you the rest of the year, smoking, 
drinking wdiiskey and anything else you want 
to do. You kill all the oystering—why, you 
kill the goose that lays the golden egg, and 
get mad because the stuffed bird doesn’t lay 
eggs like the IJve one.” 
it was an audacious speech to make to that 
crowd. I had in my note book half a dozen 
stories of how Hooper’s Islanders had mobbed 
the oyster police about every time they came 
down there, threatening to rescue prisoners. 
Capt. Phil Gohiggin, of Cambridge, was down 
there with Capt. Dad’ Flowers one time, and 
two or three hundred of the islanders came 
down upon them, wrecked their skiff, and made 
trouble generally, although the police bluffed 
them off. 
The listeners fell silent, but Rusk shrugged 
his shoulders, looking from face to. face with a 
teeth-showing grin. Finally one said, "That’s 
just about it. We do just that.” 
Perhaps greater wastefulness is not to be 
seen anywhere than around the Chesapeake 
Bay islands. I saw tons of dead herring 
turned out of pound nets because there was 
no market for them. No one attempted to salt 
them, and no one smoked them for market. 
Everybody put down a barrel or two for win¬ 
ter, but that was all. The shad are caught in 
such numbers as to jeopardize the future sup¬ 
ply, the roe being sought for more than any¬ 
thing else—and every shad roe meaning just 
so many hundred thousand fry undeveloped. 
Even the eels are gourmands in the matter of 
■fish, attacking the shad- in the gill nets and 
stripping them of the spawn. 
We ran down to Ploopersville, on Middle 
Hooper’s Island, on April 12. Rusk had found 
several who might want gasolene engines in 
the near future, and on the Middle Island there 
might be others. Our run down was interest¬ 
ing, as showing how shoal the Honga is—for 
miles the bottom was only a few inches below 
the keel, and one reef of mud we plowed for 
fifty yards. One needs a boat drawing about 
twenty inches or less for some of the Eastern 
Shore waters, although the channels will take 
ocean-going schooners far up the salt rivers. 
Hoopersville was around the second point, 
its harbor opening suddenly out of a low 
marsh. It was not an inviting place to lie, for 
the east wind had a far sweep across the 
Honga, nevertheless we found a little nook 
down by the White brothers’ wharf, where we 
would be moderately safe, at least. In all 
directions were boats lying at anchor or 
moored in shoal coves, where the land was 
washing away. The White brothers have sev¬ 
enteen or eighteen oyster dredges, a dozen of 
which were in the cove behind their store. 
One of the brothers was sent afloat as captain 
of a canoe dredge when he was sixteen years 
old. His father made captains of all his boys 
early in their ’teens—and they made able cap¬ 
tains, shipping their crews at Baltimore, and 
bringing in their boats well loaded with oys¬ 
ters. The boys made the same kind of con¬ 
tract with their father as other captains did. 
The owner furnished the boat, outfit, sails and 
lines, the captain paid the men and running 
expenses—the owner took one-third and the 
captain two-thirds the gross catch. Many of 
the Flooper Islanders are captains, and their 
bearing and appearance are grim and almost 
forbidding from their habit of enforcing obe¬ 
dience and work, even to the death of the 
sailors. The cruelty of man to man is no¬ 
where in civilization more frightful than on 
the Chesapeake Bay, and the strange part of 
it is many of the worst captains can bring 
dozens of people to show that they are kind 
parents, good neighbors and careful in the 
observance of the Sabbath—this is actually 
done at the trials of some of the captains ac¬ 
cused of unspeakable cruelty’and inhuman sav¬ 
agery toward the unfortunates taken down to 
the dredgers by the Baltimore crimps. They 
are brave seamen, facing every danger of their 
calling with set jaws and bright, clear eyes, 
even going down to. death without a cry of 
dismav; but with all their heroism, the curl 
of their lips, the hardness of their faces, and 
their gestures show their indifference to the 
suffering of the men under them almost as 
plainly as the marks of their calloused knuckles; 
on the faces of their crews. 
They and their ancestors have been on these.; 
islands for hundreds of years. More than one 
have in their veins the Indian blood of the 
prehistoric islanders. They are most graceful 
when on their little boats, standing on the 
washboards of their jumping canoes, not know¬ 
ing that it is a feat—the little babies do it, the 
old men, tottering back and forth in the boats 
do it, so why should not any man in his prime 
do it? After six weeks I could not walk along 
the washboard beside the cabin of the Virgie 
Lee without taking hold of the life line; bu 
one of the bay men walked along the same 
place with both hands in his pockets, whistling 
and much interested in the engine, not ever 
knowing that the boat was rolling from side 
to side as he came. 
We beached the canoe on a little sandbar to 
paint it. Rusk was now trying to sell the boa 
so that he could go back to'the Catskills to hi 
business of summer resort photographer. He 
would take $150 for the boat, engine anc 
outfit, which was rather better than reasonable 
but young White, in the absence of his broth 
ers, who were coasting, did not want to pay 
so much, although they needed just such ; 
boat to carry soft-shell crabs to a shipping 
point on the railroad. Rusk taught him hov 
to manipulate the engine, sent him afloat alom 
wdtlr it, and got him enthusiastic over the craft 
It was worked down now, and was running a 
smoothly as one could wish. 
It was with great interest that I paced bad 
and forth on Middle Hooper’s Island. It wa 
low ground, but how low, it is difficult for on 
to understand. The houses were all built o: 
stilts—on piles—several feet above the groun 
because a combination of a gale out of th- 
southeast and high tides fill the Chesapeak 
Bay till thousands of acres are overflowe 
which are ordinarily above water, and thes 
high tides come just often enough to ruin th 
land for agriculture. The salt “kills” the so 
and ruins the crop chances for many year: 
No matter where one went, beside the roa 
would, appear a ditch, through which the sa 
water came even in ordinary tides, and afte 
a dry gale, the leaves of the pines and th 
blades of grass were salt to the taste, and th 
crystals were even visible to the eye in sur. 
light, like frost. 
The levees had come to the island. Oni 
young man had dug a ditch around his hous' 
and heaped the dirt up outside to a height < 
three or four feet. That rain storms migl 
not flood him out, he had fixed flood gates i 
his levee to drain off the rainwater from thi 
ditches. I wondered that the whole island hai 
not been leveed off in some past day; bi 
going o.ver to the Chesapeake side the reaso 
was at once apparent. The island, like all tfj 
other islands there, was washing away. Tli 
shoal extends five miles out to the bay char 
nel, and the shoal grows ever wider and eve! 
shoaler, while the island melts away inq 
by inch. 
“There used to be a piece of high grounl 
out there,” Postmaster Capt. Robert Booz sail 
pointing toward the bay. “It was just co* 
ered with pieces of stone. The Indians dotj 
something with .them. We called it Tom ( 
Point, and it was the highest land on the islar 
hereabouts. The Indians had their graves c 
that high ground.” 
(Continued on page 77.) 
