CHAPTER III OVER THE BAR
The Bertha B now lay as motionless as "a painted ship upon a painted ocean." The captain released his hold of the steering-wheel and turned toward Alec, studying his face again.
"How old are you?" he asked.
"I'll be nineteen on my next birthday."
"You are pretty big for your age."
"I'm five feet, ten inches," laughed Alec, "and I don't believe I'm done growing yet."
"No. You'll be a six footer before you're done. Was your father a large man?"
"No, sir. I am already two inches taller than he was."
"Where do you get your size from? Was your mother large?"
"No, sir. I've seen pictures of my mother, and she wasn't as tall as Dad. I guess it must come from good food and exercise."
"If that's the case, you ought to keep right on growing. You'll get plenty of both aboard an oyster-boat."
"If the breakfast I had was a fair sample, I'm sure there will be plenty of food."
"I'll see that you get plenty of exercise, too," smiled the captain.
Again he looked Alec over, seemingly in appraisal of his physical powers. "You don't look like a working boy," he said. "What kind of exercise have you been used to?"
"I never had to work for my living," replied Alec, "because I was going to school and Dad supported me. But I did all the chores at home—chopped the wood, took care of the ashes, dug the garden, and so on. And I was on the high school athletic teams."
"Humph!" snorted the captain. "That's hard work, that is—playing a little baseball."
Alec flushed slightly, but made no reply. He knew well enough that the captain had never played a hard game of football or he would not have made that remark.
"Know anything about water or boats?" the captain asked, after an interval.
"I've been used to little sailboats and canoes all my life, sir, and I can swim."
Alec might have added that he was the champion swimmer of the Central City High School, but he wisely did not.
"Well," rejoined the captain, "that may be useful to you. There are too many sailors who cannot swim."
"Sailors who cannot swim," repeated Alec in astonishment. "Why, I supposed all sailors could swim."
"Then you supposed wrong. Lots of 'em can't swim a stroke."
The captain thrust his head out of a window and surveyed the water. "Tide's about run out," he said.
Alec noticed that the water below them was moving much slower than it had been. Accustomed as he was to an inland stream, in which the current always ran one way, the alternating flow of this tide-water stream interested him deeply. As he looked at the banks of the river, he could see that the water had fallen several feet.
"How much does the tide fall here?" he asked.
"About six feet, I reckon," said the captain, "but this is an unusually low tide. In fact, we haven't had a tide as low as this in years. I don't know when I've seen that bar out of water before. This stiff northeast wind, coming straight down the river, has blown the water all out into the Bay."
"Has the river fallen as much back at the pier as it has here?" asked Alec, examining the shore carefully.
"Sure thing. There's enough water to float a boat off the ends of the piers, but the slips between 'em, where you saw the scows, haven't an inch of water in 'em. They're only mud-flats, now."
In the darkness Alec hadn't seen much of the scows, but he did not tell the captain so. Instead, he said, "It's wonderful. Will it all run back now?"
"You'll see it start to flow back in a few minutes. Of course this won't be a very high tide, for the wind that blew the water out of the river will keep some of it from running back."
"Suppose the wind were blowing in exactly the opposite direction," said Alec. "Would it blow the river full of water?"
"That's exactly what it would do. When that happens the water sometimes gets up over the pier you slept on. That's a couple of feet higher than common."
"Whew!" whistled Alec. "That's like our spring-floods inland. Everything gets covered with water."
"Pretty much the same thing," said the captain. "But we'd a good deal rather have a high tide than one of your floods. High tides don't do so much damage as your floods. And then the tides help us a great deal. But they was more useful before the days of power boats than they are now. In them days, if there wasn't any wind to blow your boat, all you had to do was to wait for the tide to change, and you could go up-stream or down without a bit of wind. But now that we use gasoline, we don't pay much attention to the tide."
Alec glanced out of the window again. The chips and bubbles that had been floating down-stream were now moving ever so slightly in the opposite direction.
"Look!" he cried. "The tide's running in."
"Sure," said the captain. "I've been watching it. We'll be off pretty soon."
Again the captain leaned out of his window and looked up-stream and down. "Every last boat in the fleet is hung up," he said. "Never knowed that to happen before. Some of 'em always gets through." He closed the window and once more faced Alec. "What was you studying in school?" he asked.
"I took the usual required work in high school," said Alec, "but I was specializing in biology."
"What's that?"
"The study of life processes," replied Alec.
The captain looked blank. "What do you do in that study?" he asked.
"Why, you try to find out all about the life of an animal, how it is born and how it grows and eats and multiplies. You dissect animals, and you examine them under a microscope. In short, you try to find out all about an animal's life, just as you oystermen probably do with oysters."
"Humph!" snorted the captain. Then he laughed aloud. "Now ain't that an idea," he exclaimed, "watching oysters under a microscope! Young fellow, we ketch oysters, that's what we do. We ketch 'em for people to eat."
"But I'm sure it would help you to study them, too. A man can't know too much about the things he handles."
"If that's the kind of nonsense they teach you at high school, I'm glad I never went to one. I can read and write, and that's enough learnin' for any oysterman."
Alec made no reply, but the captain's remark had set him thinking. He wondered if there were not an opportunity to apply his school training in the oyster business. He knew that science had almost revolutionized farming, and he wondered if the oyster business might not be somewhat like farming was before the days of the agricultural colleges. But he did not know, and he very wisely kept quiet. He determined that he would look into the matter as he had opportunity.
He was silent so long that the captain suddenly remarked, "Never mind what I said, lad. I didn't mean to hurt your feelings."
"You didn't hurt my feelings," smiled Alec. "You just set me to thinking."
"Tell me more about your life at Central City," the captain went on.
"Well, there isn't much to tell. My father worked for the electric light company, and I belonged to the Camp Brady Wireless Patrol. But that probably wouldn't interest you, any."
"You mean that you know something about wireless telegraphy?"
"Sure. I've got a little outfit with me in my valise. It isn't much of an outfit, though, for I made it myself. But I can send and receive over a pretty good radius, even if it is home-made."
The captain looked at Alec with evident admiration. "Do you mean you made the set yourself?"
"Absolutely. I can install it here on the Bertha B and take messages for you, if you'll let me."
"It's a nice thing, wireless is," replied the captain, "but it wouldn't be any use on an oyster-boat. Besides, it would be in the way. You see how cramped we are for room. These boats was all right as long as they stuck to sails, but they filled up the hold with engines and winders and a lot of machinery when they turned 'em into power boats, and they ain't big enough any longer. We can ketch twice as many oysters with power boats as we used to with sails, and we don't have room to carry 'em when we get a big catch. Some day they'll build oyster-boats of a new sort. They'll make 'em bigger and higher and have room in the hold where we can put oysters. Then we can catch 'em all winter."
"Don't you catch them in winter now?" asked Alec in astonishment, for he distinctly recalled eating oysters all through the winter season.
"We have to carry 'em on deck," explained Captain Bagley, "and in cold weather they freeze. Then we have to stop dredging. Your winter oysters come from the Chesapeake, I reckon; at least in real cold weather. But tell me some more about this Wireless Patrol. What was it?"
"Oh! Just a bunch of us fellows who had wireless outfits. We used to talk to each other at night and listen in to all the news that's flying about; and we used to go camping, too. When the war came, we knew enough about wireless to be of some use. We caught the German dynamiters at Elk City, and four of our boys helped the Secret Service in New York run down the secret wireless of the Germans. One of our boys, Henry Harper, is a government wireless man now, and Roy Mercer is wireless man on the steamer Lycoming running between New York and Galveston. Charley Russell is a forest ranger back home in the state forest, and he got his job largely because of his ability with the wireless. They're going to install a wireless system in his section of the forest, it is so useful in fighting forest fires."
"You don't say!"
"Sure. You see, Charley started as a fire patrol and he saved a tract of the finest timber in Pennsylvania because he was able to call help promptly with his wireless. He'd have had to hike twenty-four miles over the mountains and back to get help if he hadn't had his wireless outfit with him, and the fire would have got such a start it would have burned up the whole tract before they could have stopped it. Oh! You can do most anything with wireless. I'm sorry I can't use my outfit aboard the Bertha B. I could string up my aerial between the masts, and I don't believe my wires would be one bit in your way."
The captain smiled indulgently. "Wireless is all right, I know," he said. "But we ain't got any use for it on an oyster-boat. Our business is to ketch oysters."
"Don't you ever have accidents?" inquired Alec. "With so many ships sailing in the same place, I should think you would have collisions every day. Why, I should think the oystermen would almost come to blows, like those gulls there fighting for table scraps."
"I don't quite get you," said the captain. "Why should we fight?"
"To see who shall get the oysters, of course. Suppose that ship over there wanted to dredge in exactly the same spot you have in mind. How are you going to prevent her from doing it? And where will you get your oysters then?"
"Well, you are a landlubber, for sure," laughed the captain. "Why, no other oysterman would dare come on my grounds. I'd send him to jail, if he did."
"What!" cried Alec. "You don't mean that you own part of the oyster-bed? I supposed the government owned all navigable waters. Our Susquehanna River is a public stream."
"Right you be, lad. The government does own the Delaware Bay, but it leases the oyster-beds, or at least land for oyster-beds, to private individuals. Each oysterman has his own grounds, just as each of your Pennsylvania farmers has his own farm."
"Are you kidding me?" asked Alec, mindful of the reputation sailors have for spinning yarns.
"Not a bit," replied the captain. "I thought everybody knew that."
"But how could a man have an oyster-bed separate from all the other beds in a big body of water like the Delaware Bay? Why, it must be miles and miles in width. How could anybody tell just where his oysters were, in such a vast expanse of water?"
"How could he tell?" snorted the captain. "How can a farmer tell where his farm is, with so much land all around it?"
"Why, he'd fence it in, of course, or mark the boundary lines in some way."
"Well, young fellow, oystermen have just as much brains as farmers. And they are just as particular to fence in their own grounds, too."
Alec's face was blank for a moment. Then he smiled broadly. "Now you are kidding me," he said.
"Not for a minute," said the captain. "Do you see that boat over there—the Mary and Hattie?"
"Sure!"
"Do you see those long poles she carries over her starboard rail, near the stern? They're long saplings with all the branches trimmed off but the top ones."
"I see them," said Alec.
"Well, those are the kind of markers we use to stake off an oyster-bed. You see there are natural beds in the Bay, where the state won't allow any dredging except to ketch seed-oysters for spring planting. But an oysterman can lease as much land elsewhere as he wants and plant it with oysters. The state surveys it and then the oysterman marks it off with those poles. And if anybody but the owner dredges oysters in that ground he'll get just what a fellow would get if he went into a farmer's field and stole his crops. The oysterman owns every oyster in his bed."
"Honestly?" asked Alec, who was so much astonished that he forgot his manners. "Why, I supposed that the oysters grew anywhere on the bottom and that the oystermen just dredged wherever they felt like dredging."
"Humph!" said the captain. "There'd be a lot of oysters left in a few years if we did that. The beds would be dredged clean. That's the way they used to ketch oysters, and the state had to put a stop to it in order to save any oysters at all. Why, the whole Atlantic coast used to be covered with oysters, and now there's only a few beds left. This bed in the Maurice River Cove is one of the most valuable in the whole United States. But it wouldn't last long if the state didn't regulate oystering."
"How does the state regulate it?" asked Alec.
"Well, there's the natural bed I told you about. That lies above what we call the Southwest Line. Nobody dare dredge above that line except in May and June to ketch seed-oysters. That gives the oysters in the natural bed a chance to multiply from year to year, so as to provide the necessary seed."
"But what's to prevent a boat from slipping in there and dredging oysters on the sly? If the boats are scattered all over the Bay, and each boat is busy dredging on its own ground, I don't see what's to hinder a dishonest captain from stealing the state's oysters."
Captain Bagley lowered a window-sash and craned his neck, so he could look up-stream. "See that long, low power boat up there?" he asked, after running his eye over the fleet behind him. "That's one of the guard-boats. The state has four of 'em. They're fast little craft and they watch the fleet every minute. I think that's the Dianthus. She knows just where every boat belongs, and if a fellow dredges on state land or on some other fellow's ground, she'll nab him quick."
"Why, that's just like a police force," said Alec.
"That's exactly what it is. You see this oyster business has grown to be a big thing. We shipped nine million dollars' worth of oysters out of Bivalve last year, and the state ain't takin' no chances on having that business wrecked. So the state keeps pretty close watch on us."
"Don't it make you kind of nervous, to be watched all the time?" asked Alec.
"Lord bless you!" said the captain. "We ain't got no reason to be nervous. We'd rather have that guard-boat there than not. It protects our property when we're not around. Most of the oystermen in this fleet is as honest as the day is long. They wouldn't touch another man's grounds if you'd pay 'em. But we do have a few crooked ones, like any other business, and they have to be watched. The guard-boats don't pay much attention to the rest of us, but they keep pretty close tab on skippers that are known to be dishonest. Hello! The Dianthus is moving. We'll see what we can do."
The captain leaned forward and rang his bell. The motor began to turn and the ship once more vibrated. Slowly the Bertha B moved ahead. The captain swung her toward the channel. Around her the water was inky black, where her propeller was churning up the mud. The water deepened and the vessel gained headway. In a moment she was going smoothly. The bar ahead had disappeared. The tide was rising rapidly. All about her, other ships were starting or trying to start. Those with power forged slowly ahead through the mud until they reached the centre of the channel. A few that depended upon their sails alone were forced by the wind to circle about before they could head toward the oyster grounds. Everywhere the scene was one of animation. Ahead of the Bertha B and behind her, ships by the score were once more in motion. The water sparkled in the light of the rising sun. And as the river widened into the Bay, the water began to roll and billow under the strong sweep of the rising wind.
On went the Bertha B. To her left stretched East Point, a long, low finger of sand, reaching far out into the water, the square, white lighthouse, surmounted by its round light tower, bulking huge against the horizon. On the right stretched limitless reaches of brown marsh-land. Behind her ran the serpentine river. And before her lay the Bay, a waste of tossing water. As far as Alec could see, nothing else was visible. It was his first sight of salt water, and he stood entranced, fascinated by the picture of the tumbling waves, the darting gulls, and the fair white ships, heading out to the oyster grounds, like sheep on the way to pasture.