The Young Wireless Operator—With the Oyster Fleet / How Alec Cunningham Won His Way to the Top in the Oyster Business

by Lewis E. Theiss

Throughout the fleet arose the sounds of preparation. Lights glowed in every cabin. Lanterns bobbed on every deck. From every direction came the creak of tackle blocks as sails were hoisted. Here and there capstans clanked, as enterprising skippers hoisted anchor, to jockey for more advantageous positions. For the moment the sun arose, the entire fleet would sweep over the line in the race for the coveted oyster-seed. Some boats were heading east and some were going west in the hope of bettering their positions.

As the light increased, the breeze freshened. The water began to dance beneath its touch. Over all rested a slight haze, intensified here and there, by wisps of smoke from cabin fires. And curling upward from the surface of the Bay, rose little cloudlets of mist or fog. Streaks of color crept into the eastern sky, growing, little by little, until the firmament was a gorgeous, glowing tapestry of gold, shot with purple, pink, and orange.

From every side now rose the rattling of anchor chains, the clank of capstans, the creaking of the tackle. In increasing numbers the oyster-boats spread their wings and slipped away. Soon not a ship lay at anchor. Like a mammoth flock of giant gulls, the oyster-boats were darting here and there, their fresh, white sails shining in the morning glow, as they bellied in the wind. Rare, indeed, was the sight; rare and wonderful. For hundreds of ships were now in motion, the waves foaming white at their bows, the spray splashing upward on their decks, and in their wakes yeasty patterns of swirling water. At every stern stood a silent figure, twirling his wheel now this way, now that, watchful of the east and the mounting color there.

Now sweeping near the line, now darting away, now weaving in and out among her sister ships, the Bertha B skimmed over the waves with the grace of a gull, about to swoop on its prey. Her crew were on deck, ready to spring to dredge or tackle. Her captain stood at his wheel, silent, watchful as a hawk.

Suddenly the fiery rim of the sun peered over the edge of the world. A thousand watchful eyes beheld it, and a great shout went up from the fleet. Over went the rudders, around swung the ships, and the entire fleet darted straight for the line that marked their goal.

"Let go the dredges!" thundered the skipper, as the Bertha B swept over the mark, and a splash arose on either side of the boat as the dredges struck the waves.

From hundreds of other craft dredges were falling into the sea. With every sail set, the speeding oyster-boats tugged at their loads as restive dogs straining at the leash. Now there was no engine to do the hoisting; but men stood in pairs at the winders, ready to reel up the windlasses and lift the laden dredge. How they worked! How they turned their reels! How the dredges came plunging over the rollers! How the oysters poured out on the decks! How the nimble fingers flew to cull the glistening piles! How the shovels flashed, and the shells glinted in the sun, as strong arms heaved them back into the sea! How the piles of tiny oysters grew!

What a sight it was! From far and near, from east and west, from north and south, from every oyster town about the Bay, came scores of boats to add their shining sails to the great fleet. Look where he would, Alec could see ships sweeping along before the breeze, their decks crowded with toiling men, bulking high with oysters. Never, as long as he lived, would he forget that scene.

Hour after hour the work went on. Basket by basket the piles of oysters grew. The bow was full of them. The after deck was buried under them. The cabin was hidden by them. Still the work went on. The Bertha B sank lower and lower in the water, as ton after ton was piled on her deck.

Suddenly there was a sharp command from the skipper. The dredges went overboard no more. The Bertha B heeled far over in the wind, swung wide to avoid her sister ships, and headed for her oyster grounds. Heavily she rode the waves, plowing bodily through them. Through the fleet she sailed, over the Southwest Line, and on to her planting grounds. Near and far, other laden ships sailed with her. And now she had reached her grounds. How the shovels flew, how the tiny oysters went splashing into the sea, flung far and wide from either side. Back and forth, back and forth, sailed the Bertha B, while skilled hands spread the precious seed.