38 o 
FOREST AND STREAM. 
[March 9, 1907. 
and I will tell you.” answered Charlie, and with 
that the keeper shoved off to us in a light 
skiff. “Well, Captain, I am glad to see you; 
what are you going to have for breakfast, we 
are nearly starved? ” “Well, you boys come 
right up to the house, and I will show you; we 
have no great variety, but plenty of it, such as it 
is, and perhaps we can fill you up all right.” 
Once inside of the house, we did ample 
justice to the breakfast. “Well, Charlie, I am 
glad to see you back here,” said the keeper, “it 
certainly has been lonesome since you have left 
this place. You came down to get your pots, 
I suppose?” 
“Yes,” said Charlie, “I wished to get the pots, 
and Iwished to see you, too. After living here for 
ten years you can’t help but feel a little affection 
for this pile of rocks, although I hardly think that 
I would like to come back here to live again. 
You have had lots of fog here lately, haven’t 
you?” 
“Yes,” answered the keeper; “we have had 
plenty of fog, and have some new engines that 
are troubling us a good deal.” 
“What is the matter?” asked Charlie. “Oh, 
the bearings get hot, they won’t ‘spark,’ and we 
have all kinds of trouble. I wish that we had 
our old machines back.” 
“Well, we made the old machines run all 
right,” said Charlie. “Do you remember that 
time one December when we ran them for four 
days without a stop?” 
“Yes, that was a tough time that we had, too; 
that was the winter that the Maine schooner 
came ashore under our bed-room windows.” 
“Well,” said Charlie, “I must be getting my 
pots loaded and starting for home, I : want to 
be back by the middle of the day. How is it, 
are there any bluefish here?” 
“Not many,” was the answer; “they caught 
a few in the Race a few days ago, and they 
are getting a few at Montauk; but I guess what 
fish there are, are mostly up in Plum Gut. I 
suppose that yoti might get a few to eat, if you 
went around that way.” 
“That’s good news,” said Charlie, “let’s get 
those pots on and start.” So together we man¬ 
aged to get most of the pots into the cabin, 
and the rest in the cockpit, and on deck. 
Bidding good-bye to the keeper, and thank¬ 
ing him for his kind hospitality, we got our 
anchor and started the motor, leaving our 
friend sitting at his oars, and watching us de¬ 
part. 
“A lonesome place it is to live,” said Charlie; 
“practically all of the shipping bound in or out 
of the Sound, passes within a short distance of 
your front door, and yet you have no one to 
call on or talk to. It’s pretty bleak there, too, 
in a northeaster, with nothing to do but eat 
and tend to your light. Yes, I am glad I am 
out of it, I’d rather get my bread and butter 
in some other way.” 
The rising sun had by this time thinned the 
fog somewhat; there was a low-lying bank of 
vapor over the north shore, and it was thick 
in the southeast, the rest of the horizon was 
comparatively clear with just the faintest breath 
of air from the southwest. 
We skirted along the south shore of Plum 
Island, and after an hour’s run, turned to go up 
through Plum Gut. 
“I hope,” said Charlie, “that we can scare up 
a bluefish here to take home with us; you might 
get those lines and jigs ready and we will tow 
the lines up through here, and we may be able 
to get a fish.” I put out five lines, one on an 
out-rigger on each side, one on each quarter and 
one over the stern. The water was as smooth 
as glass with never a sign of fish showing. 
Just beyond the light, two small motor boats 
were cruising back and forth in the tide-way. 
Charlie’s eyes were sharper than mine, and he 
saw one of them lift in a bluefish. “Now look¬ 
out and we may get a ‘strike,’ “ said Charlie. 
We had lessened the distance between the 
two boats and us by this time until they were 
only a short distance ahead of us, when the 
line nearest me suddenly straightened, and mak¬ 
ing a grab for it, I said, “Charlie, if this line 
doesn’t break, or that fish spit the jig out, my 
wife is going to have a bluefish for supper to¬ 
night.” Charlie just at this time made a quick 
turn, remarking, “I guess that my wife can have 
as many luxuries as yours,” and together we 
put two bluefish into the boat. These we put 
into one of the lobster pots and shortly three 
more came to join them, then around we came 
and back over the same ground, adding an¬ 
other one. We kept this up for an hour or 
more and had twenty-five nice bluefish in the 
boat, when they suddenly stopped biting, and 
not a “snap” could we get, so we headed her 
away about west-north-west for home. 
The wind had by this time increased until it 
was a moderate sailing breeze, and far enough 
south, so that we could start our sheets a 
little. Setting the mainsail and jib, with the 
motor still going under the cockpit floor, we 
made a straight wake for home. I got the 
fish out and cleaned them and washed up all 
around and enjoyed the sail. 
The wind was increasing all the time, and 
with the motor and sails both doing good 
work, and with a flood tide to help us along, 
we were making a great run of it; nothing of 
moment happened except that the wind kept 
breezing up, until by the time that we were up 
to the “Black Boys,” we were smoking through 
the water in great shape, with our lee rail under 
water and spray flying the whole length of her. 
We were good for it, however, and at 2 o’clock 
rounded her to at the dock, just twenty-four 
hours out, and with twenty-five bluefish to the 
good. 
* “My dear,” said I at the supper table that 
night, as she passed her plate for the second 
piece of fish, “don’t you think yourself that it 
was a mighty wise move of mine, to go off on 
this trip?” 
“Why yes, I suppose so perhaps; anyway, this 
is- a mighty fine bluefish.” 
E. M. Leete. 
In the Angler’s Workroom.—IV. 
Minor Repairs to Rods. 
With the rods all jointed up and in shape to 
be examined and tried for faults, decide on what 
changes or repairs, if any, should be made by 
their makers, and do not delay placing any rod 
in his hands at once, if it requires his expert 
skill. Rodmakers are human, and therefore likely 
to be less thorough when rushed half to death 
with hurry orders the week before the fishing 
season opens, than if permitted to take their own 
time on repair work. You expect them to do 
their best work on your rods, but often give them 
too short notice. Be fair. 
When you have laid aside the rod or rods re¬ 
quiring repairs that can be made at home, take 
up one that merely needs cleaning and brighten¬ 
ing up. The cork grasp, if soiled and discolored, 
can be improved by rubbing with a moist cloth 
and soap. Generally this will sufficie to remove 
the combination of oil and dust and leave the 
cork bright and fresh, but if not try wood 
alcohol on a cloth, turpentine or even benzine, 
rubbing the grasp lengthwise to prevent the fluid 
from softening the cement. After the grasp is 
dry, roll a piece of tissue paper around it and 
bind with a couple of elastics, to keep it clean. 
If the grasp is very much soiled, rub it lightly 
with the finest erade of sandpaper. 
Now look over the ferrules. If one is loose re¬ 
move it. If it is fastened with a metal pin, 
tapping around the latter with the wood handle 
of a screwdriver may raise it sufficiently to with¬ 
draw it with pliers; otherwise tap lightly with a 
pointed instrument until the pin is driven below 
the surface of the ferrule, which may then be 
removed and the pin drawn from the bamboo. 
This is the time to swear off using pins in fish¬ 
ing rod ferrules. They may and often do weaken 
the wood, and if good cement is used, they are 
unnecessary. 
Scrape the old cement off the wood, and heat¬ 
ing your stick of cement over the flame, at the 
same time warming the surface to be coated, 
spread the cement over the wood and even it 
with a toothpick. Heat the ferrule just enough 
to soften the cement and push it home. If any 
cement exudes below it, scrape this off with a 
clean toothpick, but wait until cold to- rub with 
crude oil and remove the last vestige of cement 
that may adhere to ferrule-end or silk. 
If the ferrule fits the wood very loosely, wind 
the shoulder with thin silk before coating with 
cement. 
Agate guides that are loose in their collars can 
be tightened with a tiny drop of cement warmed 
over the flame on the end of the toothpick. Do 
not heat the agate, and possibly crack it. 
The trade will supply ferrule cement in small 
sticks, and all are good, but I prefer the kind 
known as Hercules, obtainable anywhere. It is 
evidently a boiled oil cement, and sticks like a 
mortgage, never becoming brittle. .It is very 
much like the Fishing Gazette cement, the 
formula for which follows: 
Clear rosin, 1 ounce; boiled linseed oil, 1 tea¬ 
spoonful ; gutta percha, 1 drachm; melt together, 
pour into water and pull. 
In preparing this cement it is well to double 
the quantity given above. As it is exceedingly 
sticky when warm, rub the hands with vaseline 
before turning the wax into- the water. It will 
then adhere less to the fingers while being pulled. 
Cleaning and Varnishing. 
If the buttcap is tarnished, rub it with rouge 
on an oiled cloth, then polish all the ferrules in 
the same manner until they are clean and free 
from the season’s stains. Holding the joint 
under the left arm, with the ferrule resting on a 
table, and using a narrow strip of soft cloth in 
the same fashion followed by a bootblack in 
“shining” your footgear, will leave the ferrule 
clean and white—a dead white that will not glis¬ 
ten in the sun. If there is any varnish on the 
ferrules it can be removed by rubbing with crude 
petroleum on a cloth without injuring the varnish 
on the contiguous windings. 
Holding the joint as described above, go over 
it from end to end with the crude-oil-saturated 
cloth. Rubbing lengthwise will tend to work the 
oil into the windings and darken them, when all 
that is required is to clean the varnish and polish 
it. Some anglers prefer sweet oil for this pur¬ 
pose, and it will serve, but lubricating oils are 
too penetrating. 
Follow in the same manner with chamois skin 
or an old silk handkerchief, rubbing briskly, but 
very lightly, and work backward and forward 
rapidly to avoid heating the varnish through 
friction. 
After the rod is perfectly dry examine the 
varnish critically under a microscope. If it is 
cracked, as it may be after several seasons’ use, 
covering the defective varnish with a fresh coat 
is scarcely to> be recommended, when the obvious 
need is to scrape the rod, rewind and varnish 
afresh; but if the varnish is in fair condition, 
give the entire rod a new coating. For this pur¬ 
pose buy a flat camel hair brush three-quarters 
of an inch wide and a small bottle of extra light 
coach varnish. Buy the best obtainable. Tackle 
dealers furnish this varnish in small bottles, and 
although each has a house label, it is much the 
same. Don’t let anyone persuade you to use 
shellac. 
Before varnishing leave the rod in a warm 
room until it is in condition to- insure the var¬ 
nish taking hold, and first set the varnish bottle 
in a pan of hot water. Coach varnish is quite 
thick and somewhat gummy. Heating it softens 
the gum it carries and makes it flow and set 
perfectly, insuring a much more brilliant coat¬ 
ing. Cold varnish may contain minute lumps of 
gum and a thinner oil that amalgamates with 
them when warmed; therefore, use nothing but 
warm varnish. 
Resting one end of the joint on a table and 
holding the other end with the thumb and finger 
of the left hand, dip the brush very lightly in 
the varnish and coat the winding next the fer¬ 
rule first, carefully avoiding the metal. Lay the 
varnish around each winding lightly, then flow 
it a trifle more thickly lengthwise of the joint, 
turning it slowly to insure an even coating and 
completing four or five inches at a time. This 
varnish is laid on quite thickly, but not so much 
so that it can run or set in patches, and in order 
to be sure the tyro may safely go over the work 
with the brush and no fresh varnish, the handle 
held at an angle of 20 degrees and the brush 
