"What does anybody want old oyster shells for?" demanded Alec. "Why, I saw an old man with a whole boat load of them."
"They want 'em to sell," explained the watchman. "Guess you don't know much about the oyster business yet."
"Don't know a thing," said Alec. "Never saw an oyster-boat before yesterday. I can't imagine how anybody could sell all the shells that old fellow had in his boat."
"A fellow could sell a million bushels of 'em if he had 'em," said the watchman. "You know the oyster-planters put these shells back in the oyster-beds in spring. They buy 'em back from these fellows at five cents a bushel."
"What!" exclaimed Alec. "The planters sow oyster shells in their beds! Surely you can't grow little oysters from old shells!"
The watchman laughed heartily at Alec. "Of course you can't grow little oysters from old shells. But you can grow 'em on old shells."
"I don't understand."
"Why, the little oysters—spats we calls 'em—just floats about in the water after they are born, and if they didn't have anything to fasten to, they'd all die and be lost. There ain't nothin' they can fasten to on the mud bottoms, so the oystermen puts down old shells and the spats makes fast to 'em."
"Well, I never!" exclaimed Alec. "There's a whole lot more to oystering than I ever dreamed. I reckon what you say accounts for the way oysters grow in clusters. We dredged up lots of clusters of oysters with four or five oysters stuck together. And now that I think of it, I remember that there were usually one or two old shells in each cluster."
"I reckon Captain Rumford will be right mad when he sees them shells in the scows," said the watchman. "I heard him giving Pete—that's the old fellow you spoke of—the deuce only last week for not getting the scows clean on time. You see, it's the rush season. Help is short, and it's all the captain can do to keep up with his orders. Now these scows will have to be cleaned before any more oysters can be fetched."