Cape Cod and All the Pilgrim Land, June 1922, Volume 6, Number 4 by Various
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Various >> Cape Cod and All the Pilgrim Land, June 1922, Volume 6, Number 4
Nantucket--Further at sea, a two and a half hours' steamboat
ride from Woods Hole. Unique is a word that inadequately describes it.
All over the United States there are people who assert that there is
no place like Nantucket on the face of the globe. It has a large
summer population and tourists are adequately cared for. It has the
most regular climate of any place along the New England coast, the
temperature averaging 76 degrees during the summer months. It is
cooled by the Atlantic breezes.
Onset--This is a busy and thriving summer resort located in a
beautiful spot on upper Buzzards Bay. It attracts many thousands of
people during the summer months, who come to spend a few weeks, days,
or the season there. It is a cottage colony supplemented by hotels
and boarding houses that fit the purses of all classes.
At some of these places, either on Cape Cod itself or the islands,
every person can find conditions suited to his or her individual
taste.
WELLFLEET
EDWARD L. SMITH
Cape Cod has many fine distinctions that make it stand out from a
commonplace world and Wellfleet, as a town name, marks the Cape with
a place-name known all over the globe, but in no other locality than
on the coast of Barnstable Bay. It is true that a misguided, homesick,
and ill-advised denizen of the Cape, roaming the arid, inland sand
wastes of Nebraska, foisted the name of "Wellfleet" on his townsite.
But as it has to date remained "unwept, unhonored and unsung," so is
it quite unknown to sailors or to the sea, being about fifteen
hundred miles from salt water and an immeasurable distance from
being appropriately named.
The origin of the name "Wellfleet" has always been a source of
lively interest to those who delight to delve to the roots of things
historical. So many of our early towns in Massachusetts were named
by the Englishmen who settled them for English towns familiar to
them before they came oversea, that England is the natural source
from whence such a Saxon-English name as Wellfleet might come.
After forty years of desultory search by the writer, the problem is
yet unsolved, though a good Yankee guess may not come very far out
of the way.
When that part of old Nawsett now Wellfleet was first settled it was
noted for the abundance of shell fish in the harbor and creeks, or
cricks as then called, and oysters were both especially plentiful
and choice.
In England, on the coast of Essex, and not far from the Thames, was
a stretch of oyster beds noted in the sixteenth century for their
production of oyster different from all other locations and revered
by epicures of those far-away times to be the luscious complement
necessary to their royal as well as more common plebeian feasts. But
we had best let old John Norden, who in 1594 published the results
of his life-long investigations into the history of Essex, tell the
story, which here is given verbatim as it appears in his work,
"SPECTLI BRITTANNIE PARS."
"Some part of the sea shore of Essex yealdeth the beste
oysters in England, which are called Walflete oysters: so
called of a place in the sea; but of which place in the sea
it is, hath been some disputation. And by the circumstances
that I have observed thereof in my travail, I take it to be
the shore which lieth betwene St. Peter's chappell and Crowch
the bredthe onlie of Denge hundred, through which upon the
verie shore, was erected a wall for the preservation of the
lande. And thereof St. Peter's on the wall. And all the sea
shore which beateth on the wall is called Walfleet. And upon
that shore on, and not elswher, but up in Crouche creeke, at
the ende of the wall, wher also is an ilande called commonlie
and corruptlie Walled (but I take it more trulie Wallflete)
Island, wher and about which ilande thys kinde of oyster
abonndeth. Ther is greate difference betwene theis oysters
and others which lie ypon other shores, for this oyster, that
in London and els wher carieth the name of Walflete is a
little full oyster with a verie greene finn. And like vnto
theis in quantetie and qualitie are none in this lande,
thowgh farr bigger, and for some mens diettes better."
From the above we may understand that Wellfleet oysters, which have
been celebrated in the English markets for between three and four
hundred years, might easily have led the settlers of Nawsett to
believe that at Billinsgate, they had a new Wallfleet Oyster bed.
The fact that Wallfleet oysters were marketed at Billinsgate,
always the big fish market of the Londoners, and that our Wellfleet
was at first known as Billingsgate, seems more than a mere
coincidence.
The difference in spelling between the names "Wallfleet" and
"Wellfleet" is not material. Barnstable; town, county and bay, take
their name from Barnstaple on the coast of Devon. Norden, who was
a highly educated man of University breeding, and a polished writer,
varied the spelling of some words even in the same paragraph as
witness "Crowch" and "Crouche," also "Ilande" and "Island." The
diversified spellings of many of our common names is so marked as to
be beyond comment except to note their wide variety, due to attempts
to follow the peculiar phonetics of untaught individuals. In the one
particular of "Well," who of us has not heard that word pronounced
"W-a-a-l." when used as an interjection? All of which makes it seem
inescapable from the theory that Wellfleet on the Cape is named
after WALLFLEET on the coast of Essex, England.
A SQUEAK FOR A LIFE
1850
P.T. CHAMBERLAIN
"Whither bound?" said his wife to the captain one morn
As he stood, oars and fish lines in his hands,
"Outside Sandy Neck, to try fisherman's luck
For bluefish, or mackerel or clams."
"Good luck and good-bye," said his fond loving wife,
"The weather looks pleasant and fair,
You'll be back at the landing on the full of the tide,
And the children and I'll wait you there."
But when rounding Beach Point, with his good catch of fish,
The captain was caught in a squall,
Black clouds, wind and thunder, lightning and hail,
While the rain in torrents did fall.
Quick he lowered his sail, but the wind snapped his mast,
Away they went over the side.
One gunwale under water, the other in air,
Lifted high by the surging tide.
Then the captain braced himself as with sinews of steel,
A hand on each gunwale places he,
So he balanced and steadied his frail little craft,
Rolling there in the trough of the sea.
His wife from the window saw his peril in the storm.
And away to the landing she sped.
Tied her white linen apron to a handy boat book,
And waved it high o'er her head.
"Home, home for a lantern," to the laddie she cried.
Home, home for the lantern ran he,
Returning, he swung it, back and forth, to and fro,
That his brave sailor father might see.
Soaked to the skin with the rain and the spray,
His face as white as the foam,
"Must I drown in sight of my wife," he said,
"Must I die within reach of my home."
"For the sake of my helpless little ones,
For the sake of my faithful wife.
I pray Thee, O Lord, to forgive all my sins,
Give me this one chance for my life."
Still darker grew the storm, black and green looked the waves,
The shore line to the captain grew dim,
But he knew by the lantern and the waving white flag,
Where his loved ones were watching for him.
Three hours he struggled with the full flooding tide.
Now the Channel Rock danger is o'er.
One more stretch of water, some more dangerous rocks,
Then the gleaming surf, then the shore.
"A rope, bring a rope," the kind neighbors shout,
"A rope now the captain will save."
They coiled a stout rope and with powerful hand,
Flung it out o'er the turbulent wave.
Joy! Joy! he is saved! He clutches the rope,
With cold, bruised and stiffening hand,
A long pull, a strong' pull, and more dead than alive,
Through the surf they draw him to land.
"Home, home for hot coffee," to the lassie she cried,
Home, home for hot coffee, went she,
Returning, brought coffee, dry clothing, warm food,
A fleet-footed lassie was she.
But the kid, boylike, would investigate the boat,
And so he climbed over its side.
"Half full of water," he said, "not a bluefish or clam,
Must have all floated out on the tide."
With boat hook and lantern, the kids travelled home,
"Little sister, now what do you think,
Hadn't we said, 'Now I lay me,' to the Lord every night?
Would He let Pa and our dory sink?"
"No, no," said the lassie, "No, no, that ain't so,
Naughty children very often are we,
'Tis 'cause Ma puts a Bible in Pa's chest of clothes
Every time that he goes 'way to sea."
Gratitude profound, thanksgiving and joy
Filled the heart of the loving wife,
But the captain, a man of few words, only said,
"Yes, a pretty narrow squeak for a life."
RICHES
C.A. COTTRELL
If I can leave behind me, here and there
A friend or two to say when I am gone
That I have helped to make their pathways fair,
Had brought them smiles when they were bowed with care,
The riches of this world I'll carry on.
If only three or four shall pause to say
When I have passed beyond this earthly sphere,
That I brought gladness to them on a day
When bitterness was theirs, I'll take away
More riches than a billionaire leaves here.
CAPE TROUT STREAMS
The chronic trout fisherman is by nature secretive. He is loath to
tell where he made his big catches and shrouds the location of the
streams in mystery. If pinned down closely he will sometimes
indicate a general locality but it is hard to get him to be more
definite. The reason for this is obvious. He is zealous of his
rights as a "discoverer" and feels that he is not obliged to share
his knowledge with anybody. He won't take the risk of having the
stream "fished out" by others than himself. The secrets of the
location of gold strikes in the days of '49 were no more closely kept.
When the 15th of April comes around each year there are certain wise
men who proceed to load up their automobiles with their fishing
tackle and in the early morning turn Capeward. They have experiences
of previous years to guide them and know certain brooks and pools
where the speckled beauties await them. The wise ones know just
where to throw their lines and the kind of bait that is sure to lure
the denizens of that particular spot. For fishing is a science, as
well as a sport requiring skill and judgment. The born fisherman
seems to have an uncanny sense of piscatorial thoughts and almost
instinctively can determine just the right thing to do and the right
time to do it, while the mere amateur fisherman who only wets a line
occasionally guesses whether to use a fly or a worm.
Yes, the Cape is a noted Mecca for trout fishermen, at least certain
parts of the Cape. Within the confines of Bourne, Mashpee, Falmouth
and Barnstable are many likely trout brooks and from them are
annually taken many catches that gladden the hearts of the sportsmen.
These brooks run into the ponds and the sea, they run through
marshes and woods. They abound in trout, of the square-tail variety,
and those who know them keep their secrets closely.
Sometimes a fisherman exhibits a basket of fish that astonishes all
beholders. Big speckled beauties they are and in quantity sufficient
to satisfy any one.
Some of the biggest of them may be "salters," fish caught near the
mouths of the brooks that run into the sea and weighing all the way
from a pound to two pounds or more. There is authentic information
that trout weighing more than two and a half pounds have been taken
from these Cape Cod streams.
Unfortunately for the general public many of the brooks are
"posted," but there are a lot of fishermen that "don't believe in
signs" and when they see a sign of "no fishing here" they are apt to
challenge the statement and some of them aver that there is very
good fishing there indeed.
It is a matter of history that the Pilgrims found trout in the Cape
Cod streams. It is a matter of fact that many of the brooks have
been stocked by private individuals and by the state. Every year the
fish in these stocked brooks increase in size and the sophisticated
fishermen keep track of them from year to year. The state keeps a
record of the stocking of streams and that information can be
obtained and made use of.
At Sandwich the state maintains a trout hatchery where millions of
eggs are secured. These eggs develop into fry and fingerlings and
they are distributed throughout the state, the Cape getting its full
share.
A visit to this hatchery is interesting. It demonstrates how the
state strives to increase sport for its residents. Science and
experience are exercised and the result is that the fishing
advantages of the state are steadily increasing.
One of the chief drawbacks of having well stocked streams is the
unsportsmanlike conduct of many fishermen. To them a trout is a
trout regardless of its size and hundreds of small fish are taken
from the streams that should be put back and allowed to grow for
another year. There may be satisfaction for some in catching a large
quantity of seven-inch fish, but there is a greater satisfaction in
catching fewer in number and larger in size.
Many of the streams are suitable for fly-casting and experienced
fishermen delight in that method of filling their creel. To cast a
gossamer silk line with an alluring fly into the deeper pools and to
feel the thrill of a strike as the fly flits over the surface is a
joy that far outweighs the less spectacular method of fishing with
worm or grub and dragging the trout from the water by main strength.
There is a skill in fly-casting that comes from long practice and
the fisherman who is expert in this method cares to use no other.
The trout is a shy fish and the blundering sportsman who goes
stumbling through the underbrush, who allows his shadow to fall upon
the pool, or who in other ways announces to the fish lurking under
the bank that he is present with homicidal intent often wonders why
it is that the results are so small for the amount of effort expended.
He may aver that the stream is barren of fish when the fact is that
his own clumsiness is responsible for his lack of success.
In other words there are all kinds of fishermen; to the victor
belongs the spoils and the greater the skill the greater the spoil.
We are not asserting that Cape Cod trout streams are as prolific as
are some in more remote regions, they are fished too frequently for
that, but any one wanting a day's sport will not find them entirely
lacking and very often will proudly exhibit catches that will by no
means be insignificant, even to the most experienced and
enthusiastic fisherman.
* * * * *
"No sah, ah doan't neber ride on dem things," said an old coloured
lady looking in on the merry-go-round.
"Why, de other day I seen dat Rastus Johnson git on an' ride as much
as a dollah's worth an' git off at the very same place he got on at,
an' I sez to him: 'Rastus,' I sez, 'yo' spent yo' money, but whar
yo' been?'"
--Ladies Home Journal.
OCEAN TRAVELS
EMMA B. PRAY
Not very long ago, in one of the newspapers, I read of a lady who
had traveled some thirty thousand odd miles in her life time, and the
item set me to thinking of the many times I had traveled with my
husband some years ago when he commanded a clipper ship on Eastern
voyages. For Curiosity's sake I looked over my journals and found
that in the few voyages I had made I had covered two hundred
forty-nine thousand two hundred sixteen miles--but how it all came
about is a long story.
When I was a young girl, if any one had told me that I should spend
a certain number of years travelling about in Eastern countries,
passing three or four months at a time on the ocean, I should have
said, "What an idea! Here I am, born and brought up in a small New
Hampshire town, in a family whose idea seems to be to keep as far
away from the water as possible, and with no thought of ever
crossing it, 'Unless,' as my father used to say, 'there should be a
bridge built by which we could do so'."
In fact my knowledge of a ship and its belongings was nearly equal
to that of the young lady who was about to make her first trip
across the ocean with her father. Seeing the sailors about to weigh
anchor she inquired why they were working so hard. Her father replied,
"They are weighing the anchor, my dear." "How absurd! If the Captain
wants to know the weight of the anchor why doesn't he have it
weighed beforehand and not wait until we get ready to start and then
keep us waiting for the men to weigh it?"
However, it is the unexpected that always happens, and one day I
married a young sea captain from a seaport town. He was soon to sail
for Australia, and to me such a trip was literally going to the ends
of the earth. I feel sure that my parents never expected me to return.
What preparations we made for that voyage! What pickles, preserves,
cakes, and everything that would keep, were packed for me and sent
aboard our ship which was lying in New York harbor!
Our cabins were beautifully fitted up with every convenience and
comfort that we could have on shore. The saloon, or after-cabin, was
finished in bird's-eye maple and satin wood veneering. Wilton
carpets and furnishings of raw silk made a homelike and attractive
room. Our stateroom, with large double bed, and our own private bath
opening from the stateroom, left us nothing to wish for in the line
of comfort. The second cabin, or dining quarters for the Captain and
First Officer, was finished like the after-cabin, while forward of
the two was the mess room for the Second and petty officers.
At last the day came on which we were to sail, and, realizing that I
was not a born sailor, I made up my mind that I must make myself
over into one, though the making over process proved to be nearly
the death of me. For the first ten days I can recall but little
outside of a promiscuous tumbling about of movable objects and,
though urged strongly to go on deck I refused to do so, caring
little whether I lived or died. However, one day I was literally
taken up, carried on deck, and placed in a steamer chair, and from
that time I recovered rapidly.
So many people have asked me if the time at sea did not hang heavily
on my hands. What did I do? Was I not lonesome, homesick, and
innumerable other like questions to which I have honestly replied
that I was not lonesome or homesick. We purchased books by the
hundred before sailing, and with a piano and flute, passed many
pleasant hours. So much fancy work was always on hand that I have
cared but little for it since. Whenever the weather permitted I
walked two or three miles up and down the quarter deck, so many
times up and back making a mile. Occasionally we took with us as
passenger some young man whom we knew very well and who wished to
take such a voyage. At one time a brother of mine, also one of the
Captain's were our companions; two other times, young men from our
own state proved to be excellent company, and to this day we enjoy
nothing more than talking over our odd experiences in the different
countries to which we traveled. Though I was the only lady on board
I did not feel the lack of companionship of other women. A queer
life it was! No one to come and no one to go, with nothing but the
sky and water to be seen.
In two weeks time we had the N.E. Trade Winds and fairly flew along.
Each day brought its own particular work aboard the ship, for a
sailor is never idle. There is always something for him to do.
Chafing gear, of which there is a large amount, is always being worn
out and has to be renewed, sails made and repaired, work on rigging,
tarring, painting, etc.
Perhaps the most interesting part of each day was the marking off of
the chart at noon. At that time the Captain would work out his
latitude and longitude, mark our position for the last twenty-four
hours, and shape our course for the next twenty-four. We often towed
lines for dolphin, and it was curious to see their change of color
as they were hauled in. We had them baked occasionally and found them
very fair eating. On opening one, at one time, it was found to be
packed with flying fish which had been swallowed whole and which
some of the sailors took out and had cooked for themselves, though
for my part I should have preferred having the first eating of them.
The flying fish which came aboard were usually served to me as they
were considered a great delicacy. We caught many jelly fish or
Portuguese men of war as they are sometimes called, and they were
very curious to look at. They are of a jelly-like substance, with
apparently no eyes or mouth, and are bluish in color. They have a
pink crest and when the wind strikes them, as they float on the water,
they rock and sway like a boat. Dangling from the lower part are
many small feelers, some of which are short and thick, and others of
great length, which they turn and twist rapidly about.
A shade of homesickness came over me as I saw the North Star for the
last time but I was soon interested in the Southern Cross of which I
had heard so much. I wish I could describe some of the beautiful
colorings shown in the tropical sunsets. I missed the twilight
effects as seen at home, for as quickly as the sun goes down,
darkness closes in. As I was enjoying my evening walk with the
Captain at one time, a small boy who had been sent to sea apparently
with the idea of getting him out of the way, came to me and said,
"Wouldn't you like some Youth's Companions to read? I have lots of
them." At that time I had more of a juvenile than a matronly air and
I presume he thought they would furnish me with appreciative reading
matter. He had not then learned that he should not speak unless
spoken to. One day on being told to make a rope fast he replied,
"I did hitch it." An order to let go a brace was answered by the
question, "Which string do you mean?" At one time he was placed on
duty to open and close shutters during squally weather and the
officer told him to use a good application of soap and water before
coming aft. When the novelty of his new duty had worn off and he had
rather forgotten why he had been placed there the officer called to
him and said, "What did I tell you to do?" "Wash myself, sir," was
the reply. It was a long while before he could obey an order without
replying and at the same time to remember his "Sir" when a reply was
necessary.
As we approached the equator it could be seen that some special
interest in the voyage was being taken among the sailors and we
learned that three of them had never crossed the line before and
that an initiation of so doing was about to take place. The crew
assembled at the bow of the ship and at the blowing of a trumpet by
one of their number, Neptune appeared inquiring the name of the ship,
where she was bound, etc., and announced that he would like to pay
her a visit. Before his apparent arrival a staysail had been
fastened to the rigging and filled with water. A bucket had been
filled with a mixture of lamp black and grease with a few other
combinations, while a razor, a foot or more in length, had been made
by the carpenter. As soon as Neptune and Amphitrite--two sailors
fantastically dressed--appeared, the candidate for crossing the line
was blindfolded and brought before them. A number of absurd questions
were asked the candidate and he was finally ordered to be shaved,
which was done by applying the mixture with an old paint brush and
shaving it off with the razor. He was then thrown backwards into the
sail of water and I was much surprised to see how good naturedly the
men took so many surprises--for we had an excellent view from the
quarter deck, of the whole entertainment. We heard afterwards that
it was considered a great success, also that one of the men had been
watching through a glass for the equator, seeming to think that a
straight line passing through the center of the earth should
certainly be seen. He thought he surely saw it when a hair was drawn
tightly across a spy glass without his seeing it and the glass then
given to him.
In one of his rambles about the decks, on a moonlight night, one of
our passengers told me of some of the tattooes he had seen on the
arms of different sailors. One had his mother's gravestone, with a
weeping willow over it; another had the Goddess of Liberty remarkably
well done. The large number of different sketches was really quite an
entertainment. That reminds me of an engraved whale's tooth which I
have in my possession and which was given to my grandfather in
Nantucket many years ago. A full rigged ship with every rope, even to
the smallest one, is carved upon it, with the engraver's name and the
name of the ship. It is now nearly a hundred years old and among my
most prized possessions.