"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?"