HOW THE SEINE NET WAS BROKEN.
BY J. O. DAVIDSON.
"Why, Joe, is that you? Where have you been all day?" asked Ralph Hadley, as he met Joe Manson turning into Hillside Lane.
"I've been to see the rabbit-warren at the goat-house up Hook Mountain road," replied Joe.
"Hello! here comes Scott Otis, with his fish-basket. Wonder what he's after now? Can't be going over to the lake this time in the afternoon."
"Where are you going, Scott?" asked the boys.
"Shaddin'," answered Scott.
"Are you going to haul the seine?" inquired Joe.
"Yes, if the wind goes down, about five o'clock or thereabouts."
"Let's go see them!" exclaimed Joe.
"All right, I'm with you," replied Ralph; and the two boys trudged joyfully along beside Scott, asking many questions as they went.
Down through winding lanes they went, over fences and across lots, and emerged on a broad, open space, commanding a fine view of the Tappan Sea, which was dotted here and there by the bright sails of fishing-smacks and schooners, bathed in the warm afternoon sunlight.
"There they are at work already, getting the seine out," called Ralph, pointing down to the shore, where a group of figures were moving about among the boats.
Down at the water-side was a busy scene. The stony beach was covered with figures and boats. Old fishermen in brown oil-skin suits hurried by with coils of rope and oars slung over their shoulders, while others were preparing the boats, and some were watching for shad signs on the river's surface.
A few paces from the shore stood a machine called a reel. It looked like a huge four-spoked wheel, and from it some men were unwinding the seine net, and stowing it in two large boats.
Near it, under the willows, two old fishermen were engaged in mending some badly torn nets. The boys wondered how they could with their hard horny hands do such delicate knotting and splicing.
"Why, sister Minnie's crochet-work isn't any finer than this!" exclaimed Ralph, examining some of the strands. "I could never learn to do that."
"Oh yes, my boy," replied one of the fishermen, kindly. "If you had worked at it, like me, for over twenty years, I doubt not you would do it just as well."
"What's the matter now?" inquired Joe, as several men ran past them.
"Shad signs, sah," replied a darky. "There they go after them!" and from a distance up the shore two large boats put off, and rowed slowly out into the river. "And here comes a boat from picking de gill-nets out yonder."
"What are gill-nets?" inquired the boys, determined to know all about it.
"Dey am nets fastened to poles in shallow water, and de shad, swimmin' along, gits deir heads through easy enough, but when dey tries to back out ag'in, find demselves caught wid de mesh behind de gills."
"Let's go up and see them," said Joe.
"Better stay here, sah," advised the darky. "Dey'll land hereabouts, and you'll have all de walk for nuffin. You see, sah, de tide am slack now, but 'twill ebb presently, and by de time dey gets 'em surrounded dey'll drift about to dis p'int, den we'll see 'em come asho'. Now, you see, dey have drapped de nets; dey am outside ob de school; one boat goes round 'em on one side, and de other goes de other way. See! de nets am all drapped, and de big boat am pullin' dis way wid de shore-line."
In a few minutes the boat grounded, and the men, tossing in their oars, jumped ashore, and laying hold of the ropes, commenced "pulling in." The cork floats could be seen extending away out into the river like a great semi-circle, the upper end of which was also being dragged ashore by a dozen stalwart fishermen, who slowly moved down the beach, keeping abreast of the tide-driven net, and as the lower party were stationary, the two ends were gradually coming together. The men tugged and pulled, but the net came in but slowly.
"In with her lively now!" shouted Scott, running down the beach. "There's a big school in there."
"You're right; she do pull heavy," said one of the men, straining at the ropes.
"This won't do," cried Scott. "It's not coming in half fast enough. We'll have to use the winch, or the tide will carry it on the rocks. Here, some of you, run the rope up to the winch, and start her."
The winch was a rough wooden machine, with two bars like a ship's capstan. Around the barrel the rope was wound, and two village lads ran rapidly round with it. The extra purchase thus obtained brought in the seine much faster.
Both parties were now within speaking distance, and congratulations and jokes passed between them at the prospect of making a good catch.
The lower ropes were carefully managed by two experienced men, so that no fish should escape underneath, and the disturbed water at the "bag" end of the net indicated that a large school was inclosed. So quietly and smoothly had all been done that the fish had not realized they were caught. But now ensued a great splashing and boiling, particularly at one place.
"Must be sturgeon in there!" cried Scott. "Carefully now, or he'll break away."
The net was coming in beautifully, when suddenly a long black body shot up out of the water, and fell back with a tremendous splash, and commenced rushing back and forth, threatening to destroy everything.
"What is it?" shouted Scott. "Sturgeon don't act that way."
"We don't know," replied one of the men. "It's too dark to see what it is."
"You will have to kill it, or we'll lose the catch," yelled Scott. "He's tearing the net now."
At this several dashed into the water with poles and staves, and a lively and confused conflict ensued with the monster, while the shad and other captive fish darted about in the wildest manner, frightened out of their wits at the terrible uproar; and in the shallow water were hundreds poking their cold noses against the net, trying to get out.
"It's a shark, as sure as I'm alive," shouted one of the men, jumping one side as the monster made a rush.
"It can't be," replied another; "they don't run here."
"Never mind; pull up the net," called Scott; "there come the rollers from the night boat."
But it was too late, for with a low, sullen roar the heavy rollers from the Albany night boat came tumbling in, upsetting and twisting the net, and carrying it on the rocks.
"There he goes!" cried one of the men, and sure enough the big fish had torn the net, and was free, and like a flash hundreds of shad followed through the hole he had made, so that scarcely fifty good fish were left in it to reward the fishermen's labors.
"Isn't it too bad?" said Joe to Scott, as he passed by to a bright drift-wood fire under the rocky headland, where the men were drying themselves. "I'm real sorry you lost them."
"It's fisherman's luck," replied Scott, quietly. "We'll hope for better next time."
"What kind of fish was it?" asked Ralph.
"I hardly know. I never saw one like it, or we would have known how to manage it better."
By the fire-light the remaining fish were soon sorted out, and each of our boys was given a fine fat shad for his share of the work; so although they lost their supper, they had a fine feast for Sunday morning's breakfast.
[PLANTING-TIME.]
"I've planted a paper of pins in a row;
I wonder when will my pin-trees grow?"
Cried darling Dora, with puzzled eyes,
At aunty's look of complete surprise.
"Planted a paper of pins, my dear?
They'll never come up, though you wait a year—
Yes, you may wait a year and a day,
And down in the ground your pins will stay.
"Roses and lilies and daisies white,
Blossom and flourish in dark and light;
But pins will rust in the planted row,
For out in the garden no pin-trees grow."
["THE TRIBUTE OF CHILDREN."]
BY HELEN P. JENKINS.
I am going to tell you, Young People, something about a once famous body of men called the Janissaries. You may pronounce the word as if spelled Yanissaries.
A few hundred years ago, when the nations of Europe were more given to fighting than they are now (though they seem in this day to like it pretty well), the most celebrated soldiers in the world were the Janissaries. At that time armies were not drilled as thoroughly as they are to-day, but so well disciplined, so fierce, and so successful were the Janissaries that their name became a terror throughout Europe.
Who these soldiers were is a curious and a sad story. They were Turkish troops, but they were not Turks by birth, and that is why the story is a sad one. The Turks came from Asia into Europe about six hundred years ago. They conquered the southeastern part of Europe, which is called Turkey, and little by little, by dreadful fighting, they got possession of Greece, and several states north of it. Finally they took the beautiful city of Constantinople, which the Christians so long and so gallantly defended. The Turks brought with them a religion, a costume, and a government different from any the people in Europe had been accustomed to. They were Mohammedans, while the people of the conquered countries were Christians. You can easily believe that the Christian people did not love the race that had robbed them of their country and their freedom, nor did they submit very willingly to their fate.
Now the Turkish government took a very cunning and cruel way to increase the strength of its own army, and weaken the people they were conquering. It took from the Christian people every year one thousand of their brightest boys to train them for the Turkish army. This is called in history "the tribute of children." Some historians say that all the boys over seven years of age "who promised any excellence in mind or body" were captured by the Turks; but probably the "annual tax of one thousand children" is a more reliable statement. As this "tribute of children" was kept up for over three hundred years, not less than 300,000 noble Christian children were torn from their homes, and their strength turned against their own people. The delicate and deformed and dull were not taken, for the Turkish government wanted to make a body of soldiers the finest in size and strength and courage the world had ever seen; and, besides, the puny and dull boys would never be of much service to the Christians; so it was very safe to leave them with their own people.
Can you think of a meaner way of gaining victories than to kidnap the finest children of a conquered race, so there should be no grand, strong men among them, and then to make these boys, when grown to men, fight against their own flesh and blood? I do not think history records anything more base.
How glad a Christian mother must have been if her boy was pale and puny, or her children were all girls! Do you not believe that parents sometimes hid their boys in the mountains when the Turkish officers were about, or taught them to look sick or silly? I have never read in any books that they did do so, but I do not doubt it myself. Yet it is said that so much care was given to the training of these bright boys, and such honors sometimes conferred upon them by the government, that the very poor people were sometimes willing their sons should go away from them forever to enter the service of the Turks. It seems to me it must have been a dreadful poverty and ignorance that could have made Christian mothers willing to give up their sons to the enemy of their country and their religion.
These boys were taken from their homes so young they soon forgot kindred and country, the religion, and even the language of their fathers. They were usually carried to some portion of Asia Minor, where they were trained severely to abstinence and endurance of all kinds, to fit them for service. Those who proved greatly superior in mind were fitted for places of trust in the government—some were made pages in the Sultan's palace—but those who were strong and large of stature were trained for war. And it was these Christian boys who constituted the celebrated Janissaries, and won such great victories for the Turkish nation for three hundred years, that its influence and power was felt and dreaded throughout the civilized world.
It was the first instance of a "standing army" in Europe. Charles VII. of France is usually considered the originator of the "standing army," perhaps because the Turks were not considered a European nation; but the Janissaries were in existence a century before Charles's time. They were organized in 1329, and Charles was not crowned until 1422.
The Janissaries fought in many important battles and sieges in the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries. They figured in the sieges of the islands of Rhodes and Crete and Malta, and at the famous battle of Lepanto, which you will read about when you are older. They wore, even in fighting, flowing robes and white caps with black plumes, and fought with cimeters. We can believe their flowing robes were somewhat inconvenient in battle, especially at the siege of Malta, where they had to scale high parapets of rocks.
The Janissaries were in the height of their splendid fame during the reign of the Sultan Solyman the Magnificent, in the seventeenth century. After a time this celebrated corps lost its superiority. The "tribute of children" had, after three hundred years, gradually ceased, and the force was kept up by volunteers of any kind. The Janissaries became corrupt and insubordinate, and instead of making conquests for Turkey, they often turned upon their masters, and became more terrible to the Sultans than to the nations around. They deposed Sultans, and murdered Sultans, and made new ones, and Turkey was cursed by the very troops of which she had once been so proud.
Mahmoud II., who was a fierce and daring man, resolved to save his own head, and protect Turkey, by destroying this dreadful soldiery. In 1826 he led the rest of the army against the Janissaries, surprised them, and after a dreadful battle defeated them. Eight thousand were burned in their barracks before they could escape. Fifteen thousand were slaughtered in the struggle to defend themselves. The rest were banished from the country, and became scattered among the armies of Europe. The Janissaries were forever dissolved, and their name lives now only in history.
