CHAPTER XI.
A FISHING EXCURSION DOWN THE RIVER--DIFFICULTIES OF THE VOYAGE--A SERIES OF UNFORTUNATE INCIDENTS--OUR RETURN HOME, AND HOW WE WERE RECEIVED--A LETTER UPON THE GENERAL SUBJECT OF ANGLING--THE SORROWS OF THE FISHERMAN--LIEUTENANT SMILEY--HIS RECOLLECTIONS OF REV. MR. BLODGETT--A VERY REMARKABLE MISSIONARY.
It is said that there is good fishing in this vicinity. Several of myneighbors who have been out lately have brought home large quantities offish of various kinds, together with glowing reports of the delightfulcharacter of the sport. A craving to indulge in this form of amusementwas gradually excited in the mind of Mr. Bob Parker by the stories ofthe anglers and by the display of their trophies, and he succeeded inpersuading me to assist in the organization of an expedition down theriver to the fishing-grounds. Yesterday was selected for theundertaking. I hired a boat from a man at the wharf; and after packing agenerous luncheon in the fish-basket and securing a box full of bait,we tossed our lines into the boat, together with a heavy stone which wasto serve as an anchor, and then we pushed out into the stream.
It was early morning when we started, and to my dismay I found that thetide was running up with remarkable velocity. As we had to pull fourmiles down the river, this was a consideration of very great importance.Mr. Parker is not an especially skillful oarsman, and before he hadfairly seated himself and dipped his blade in the water we had driftedtwo hundred yards in the wrong direction. After very severe labor forhalf an hour, we succeeded in getting three-quarters of a mile below thetown, and then Bob informed me that he thought he could row better withmy oar. Accordingly, I changed places with him, and during the time thusexpended the boat went back a third of the distance we had gained.Another prolonged and terrible effort enabled us to proceed two milestoward our destination, and then Parker observed that he must stop andrest; he said he would die if he rowed another stroke. So we lay uponour oars for a while, and embraced the opportunity to wipe away theperspiration and to cool our blistered hands in the river. Parker thenasked me if I would mind changing places with him again. He said he wasnow convinced that he had made a mistake in leaving his first position.We fell back half a mile during this period; and when we finally reachedthe grounds, the morning was far advanced. Bob was nearly worn out, andhe proposed that we give up the idea of catching fish and row ashore,where we could lie down under the trees and begin operations upon theluncheon.
But as we had come to fish, I was determined to do so. I informed Bobthat I should be ashamed to go home without bringing any game. I shouldbe afraid to look in the face of the man who owned the boat when heasked me what luck I had. So we tied a rope around the stone, andtossing the stone overboard, we came to anchor. Our hooks were baitedand the lines were thrown out, and then Bob and I waited patiently forbites.
It required a great deal of patience, for the fish did not take the baitwith a remarkable degree of freedom. In fact, we only had a nibble ortwo at first, and then even this manifestation of the presence of thefish ceased. We were sitting with our backs to the shore, watching thecorks in front of us, when Bob suddenly uttered an exclamation. Uponlooking around, I found that we had drifted half a mile up stream andout into the middle of the river, which is here nearly four miles wide.The stone had dropped from the knot in the rope and released the boat.
Then we rowed back to shore and landed for the purpose of obtaininganother stone. We could not find one, so we pulled out again; andsticking one of the oars in the mud, we fastened the boat to that. ThenBob had a bite. He pulled up, and dragged to the surface of the water acrab, which instantly let go and sidled under the boat. Then we eachcaught a small sunfish, and with this our enthusiasm began to revive.Just then the oar came out of the mud, slipped through the loop in thecable and floated off. The prospect of having to take the boat home withone oar seemed so appalling that I hastily threw off my coat and shoesand swam after the fugitive oar. Meantime, the boat floated off, and Ireached it and was hauled in by Bob just as I had made up my mind togive up and go to the bottom.
We then fastened the oar down again, and I held it with one hand and myfishing-line with the other. Suddenly each of us had a splendid bite,and we both pulled in vigorously. The fish seemed to struggle violentlyall the way to the surface; but when the hooks came into view, we foundthat our lines were entangled, and that neither of us had a fish. Thenext time Bob attempted to take in his line his hook caught upon thebottom; and when, in a fit of exasperation, he tried to jerk it loose,the cord snapped and the hopes of the fisherman were blasted for thatday. Then, as Bob tipped the boat while he washed his hands, thebait-box fell overboard, and so matters came to a definite conclusion,and we determined to quit.
When we started for home, the tide had turned, and we did not reach townuntil dark. The man who owned the craft had just telegraphed to DelawareCity for the purpose of ascertaining if two suspicious men had landedthere and attempted to sell a boat. He compelled me to pay half a day'shire extra for staying out so late, together with the cost of thetelegram.
I consider it beneath me to notice the unnecessary violence of hislanguage or the insolence of his criticisms upon our skill as fishermen.
This I could have borne with patience, but it was hard, very, very hard,upon arriving home, to have Mrs. Adeler come to the door with a smileupon her face and ask, "Where are the fish?" while she informed us thatshe had asked the Magruders over to tea, and had depended upon us tosupply the principal dish, so that now she had not a thing in the housethat she could cook.
"Mrs. Adeler, we return with two diminutive sunfish, one demoralizedham-sandwich, two crimson noses and a thorough, sincere, whole-souledand earnest disgust for the wretched business which some men choose toregard in the light of amusement, No, Mrs. Adeler, we have no fish thatare worthy of the name, and hereafter when we wish to have some, we willpurchase them from the unhappy beings who catch them. A fishermandeserves all the money he can get, my dear. I wouldn't be a professionalpiscator for the mines of Golconda and the wealth of a nabob to boot."
* * * * *
Our unfortunate experiences upon the river tempt me to refer in detailto the ills to which amateur fishermen, as a class, are exposed. Thepleasures of angling have been said and sung by a vast multitude ofsentimental people reaching all the way from old Izaak Walton to Mr.Prime; but the story of the suffering that too often accompanies thesport has not yet been narrated with a sufficient amount of vigor. Themartyr fishermen have been too long kept in the background. The time hascome for them to have a hearing. I have chosen to present theircomplaint in the somewhat singular form of a letter to Mr. Benjamin F.Butler, because at the time of the negotiation of the Washington treatyhe manifested much indignation at the wrongs heaped upon Americanfishermen by that instrument, and because he is a very suitable personto figure in a remonstrance which has about it perhaps a slight flavorof burlesque, even though it is a narrative of real misery.
THE SORROWS OF THE FISHERMAN.
DEAR GENERAL: I have given a great deal of reflection, lately, to thefishery question, and I am convinced that your opposition to the fisheryclauses of the Washington treaty had a basis of sound common sense. Thetreaty, in my opinion, wholly fails to consider in a spirit of wisestatesmanship the causes which move the fisherman to complaint, andsupplies no adequate means for securing their removal. Permit me tosuggest to you the propriety of urging upon the government thereassembling of the joint high commission for the purpose of obtaining areconsideration of the fishery question with the new light which Ipropose to shed upon it.
My experience in fishing has convinced me that one of the most seriousof the primary obstacles to be overcome is the difficulty of procuringworms. Perhaps you may have observed an enthusiastic fisherman inpursuit of worms? The day is always warm, and his performance upon theshovel conduces to profuse perspiration. He seems never to strikeprecisely the spot where the worms frolic. He labors with tremendousenergy until he has excavated a couple of cellars and a r
ifle-pit, fromwhich he rescues but two or three worms, while all around him the earthis perforated with holes, into which other vermicular creatures areperceived to disappear before he can lay his hands on them. The alacritywith which a worm draws himself into a hole in the ground, and divesdown apparently to the centre of the globe, when you want him, is aconstant source of aggravation to the fisherman. The fishery interestssuffer on account of it.
If a joint high commission would address itself in a conciliatory spiritto the work of obtaining concerted action from the civilized nations ofthe world upon the subject of the reformation of worms, blessed resultswould undoubtedly accrue. I know a fisherman who could make a speech inCongress on the subject of worms which would make that body weep therotunda full of tears.
And even when bait has been secured, you are aware, perhaps, that thefisherman will sit for hours upon the bank of the stream watching hiscork until he is nearly blinded, and until his head swims. At last, whenhis patience is exhausted and he is convinced that there are no fishabout, he pulls up for the purpose of trying another spot, and findsthat some disreputable fish has sucked the bait off the hook an hourbefore without making a perceptible nibble.
Perhaps a clause in the treaty upon the general subject of nibbles mightbe of service. I think a paragraph could be constructed on nibbles whichwould create more amazement and produce a greater sensational effect indiplomatic circles than anything that ever appeared in a treaty. Theintroduction of the subject of nibbles to international law would givethat science refreshing variety and probably prevent devastating wars.
It is another cause of suffering to the fisherman that when he hasthrown in again, and has waited an hour for a bite, and waited in vain,he considers it safe to drop his rod for a moment, so that he can lighthis pipe. It is a peculiar circumstance, I say, that just as he hasstruck his last match he always gets the most vigorous bite of the wholeday. The cork pulls under in the most exciting manner several times, andonly floats up again permanently at the moment when the angler seizeshis rod in eager haste and finds that the fish is gone.
It is this kind of thing that makes the fisherman feel as if he would berelieved by the use of violent language. The British premier, I am sure,will consent to the negotiation of another treaty if you will press thismatter on him. He must see at once that unless bites are arranged with agreater regard for the feelings of the fisherman and for the sanctity ofthe law against profane swearing, the fishery interests will languishand the crop prove a humiliating failure.
I have often remarked, too, that when the fisherman has nearly landed afish, which drops off the hook just as it appears to be safe, hecollects all his energies for the next bite. He grasps the rod tightlywith both hands, he rises and plants his legs firmly upon the ground, hewatches the cork carefully, with his lips compressed and with fierydetermination gleaming from his eyes. The cork moves slightly. It goesunder; he has a good bite; he pulls up with frightful energy, determinednot to lose this one, and the next instant his line hits the limb of thetree overhead, and winds around it as closely as if it was put there onpurpose to splice that limb, so as to make it perfectly securethroughout the unending ages of eternity.
I always excuse the man for taking a gloomy view of life, and for sayingover with ardor and vehemence his entire reserve stock of objurgationsas he shins up the tree. But has the government no duty in the matter?What is the use of joint high commissions if these things are to beallowed? We have made the republic successful, we have fought mightybattles, we have paid millions of indebtedness and we have given thecivilization of the world a tremendous impulse forward; now let us dosomething for the disgusted fisherman who has to fumble around out onthat limb. Let us have a special treaty on that particular branch of thesubject.
If something could be done in relation to eels, I think the governmentof our beloved country would rest upon a foundation of greater stabilityand have a more permanent hold upon popular affection. Perhaps you havefished for eels? The eel gently pulls the cork under and lets go. Youpull up suddenly, and throw in again. The eel tenderly draws the corkbeneath the surface, and, wild with fury, you jerk out your line asecond time. This exhilarating exercise continues for some moments, andyou make up your mind that existence will be a burden, the world ahollow sham, and groceries and marketing useless baubles, unless youcatch that eel. Finally you do hook him and draw him out. He is active,playful and vivacious. He wriggles; he forms himself in quick successioninto S's, C's and Q's. He points to all the four quarters of thecompass at once. He swallows himself and spits himself out. He wrapshimself around your boot and shoots up your leg and covers your trowserswith slime, and tangles your line into a mess by the side of which theGordian knot was the perfection of simplicity. When you get your footfirmly on him, you find that he has swallowed the hook, and you have tocut him completely open, from head to tail, to get the hook out, andthen, as likely as not, the eel will flip back into the water andescape. I think eels rarely die.
A joint high commission which would devote itself with philanthropicardor and untiring energy to a dispassionate consideration of thesubject of the immortality of eels might, perhaps, achieve importantresults. Any settlement of the fishery question which overlooked thehideous wickedness of eels would be a cruel mockery of human woe.
But for pure pathos, I can conceive of nothing that will equal theanguish of the fisherman when he imagines he has a catfish upon hishook. His cork is drawn slowly under the surface, and it goes down,down, down, until it sinks completely out of sight. He is certain it isa catfish--they always pull in this manner, he says; and he draws in hisline gently, while the fish tugs and pulls at the other end. Gradually,v-e-r-y gradually, the fisherman pulls it in, in order to be sure tokeep the prey upon the hook. It is evidently a very large fish, and heis determined to land it through the shallow water, so that it cannotdrop back and escape. Slowly it comes up, and just as the hook nearsthe surface the angler gives a sudden jerk, and out comes a terrificsnag with a dozen branches and covered with mud. And meanwhile, duringall the fisherman's troubles, there is that infamous small boy sittingon the opposite bank of the creek pulling up fish by the dozen with apin-hook and some wrapping twine.
It would gratify me if the new treaty would devote one clause to adefinite settlement of the question of the bearing of snags upon themiseries of mankind, and about eight stupendous clauses to adetermination of the fate that is deserved by that boy. My ownhumanitarian tendencies incline me to urge that he should be summarilyshot. If a boy with a pin-hook is to be allowed thus to destroy thepeace of older American citizens, the sooner we ask some efficient andreliable despot to come over here and break up the government andtrample on us, the happier we shall be.
I commend the subject to your enlightened consideration, and ask for anearnest appeal to the next Congress in behalf of suffering fishermen. Ifwe cannot obtain redress by peaceful means, let us have it by force. Iam ready to overturn the government, massacre the people, burn thecities and carry desolation, devastation and death into every home inthe land, rather than to permit these outrages against justice longerto continue and these unhappy men to endure further persecution.
* * * * *
There are indications that the course of Bob Parker's true love will notrun entirely smooth. The officers stationed at Fort Delaware, belowhere, come up to the village constantly upon social errands, and theyare exceedingly popular with the young ladies. Lieutenant Smiley is, Ithink, the favorite; and as he has become a somewhat frequent visitor atMagruder's, Bob's jealousy has been aroused. He hates Smiley with acertain deadly hatred. Mr. Parker is not naturally warlike in histendencies, but I believe he would willingly engage in hostilities withthe lieutenant with an utterly reckless disregard of the consequences.
Smiley comes to see us sometimes; and Bob, I fear, regards even thisfamily with gloom and suspicion because we receive the lieutenantcourteously. But he says very little upon the subject; for when hebegins to abuse Smiley, I a
lways ask him why he does not propose to MissMagruder at once and thus relieve himself from his agony ofapprehension. Then he beats a retreat. He would rather face a regimentof Smileys armed with Dahlgren guns than to discuss the subject of hiscowardice respecting the beautiful Magruder.
We like the lieutenant well enough, and we should like him better butfor his propensity for telling incredible stories. He was in the navalservice for eight or ten years; and when he undertakes to give accountsof his adventures, he is very apt to introduce anecdotes of whichMunchausen would have been ashamed. It is one of Smiley's favoritetheories that he sojourned for a considerable period among the FijiIslands, and many of his narratives relate his experiences in thatregion. There was a missionary meeting at the church a night or two ago,and the lieutenant, having been defeated by Bob in his attempt toescort Miss Magruder to her home, came to our house; and very naturallyhe began the conversation with a story of missionary enterprise withwhich he assumed to have become familiar during his visit to the SouthSeas.
"Mr. Adeler," he said, "I was very much interested in the proceedings atthat meeting to-night, but it seems to me that there is one defect inthe system of preparing men for the work of propagating the gospel amongthe heathen."
"What is that?"
"Why they ought to teach the science of mesmerism in the divinityschools."
"I don't exactly understand the purpose of the--"
"Perhaps you never heard of the Rev. Mr. Blodgett, missionary to theFiji Islands? Well, he saved his life once merely by practicingmesmerism. He has told me the story often."
"I should like to hear it."
"It seems that Blodgett in his sinful youth had been a travelingprofessor of mesmerism; but he had abandoned the business to go into theministry and to preach to the heathen in Fiji. Well, his church outthere got up a Sunday-school picnic, it appears; and when the people allarrived upon the ground, they learned that the provisions had beenforgotten. A meeting of the vestry was called, and after a briefconsultation it was decided that the only thing which could be done tomeet the emergency was to barbecue the minister. The inducement to thiscourse was all the stronger because his salary was six months inarrears, and the church was entirely out of funds. So they built a hugefire; and seizing Blodgett, they began to strip him and to stick himwith forks.
"In order to save himself, he immediately mesmerized each member of thevestry; and when they were all fixed, he called up the Sunday-schoolscholars, class by class, and put them comfortably to sleep. Having themall completely under his influence, he gave an entire class to each oneof the vestrymen, and assured them that the innocent children were themost luscious kind of missionary. Thereupon the hypnotized vestryimmediately ate up the somnambulistic Sunday-school and picked the bonesclean. Blodgett was a very conscientious man in the performance of hissacerdotal functions, so he read the funeral service over each class asit disappeared."
"Rather an excessive meal, I should say."
"Yes, but they are large eaters, the Fijians. You might say that theirappetites are, in a certain sense, robust."
"I should imagine that such was the case. But proceed."
"Well, when the little ones were gone, Blodgett whispered to themagnetized wardens that their fellow-vestrymen were also succulentpropagators of Christianity; whereupon the unconscious wardens fell upontheir colleagues, and in a few moments nearly the whole vestry was inthe process of assimilation. There remained now but the two wardens, andBlodgett, having prevailed upon the younger and more vigorous of the twoto eat the other, then seized the slumbering body of his converted buterring brother and stood it on its head in the fire. The Rev. Mr.Blodgett went away alone from that picnic, and he went with a heavyheart. When he got home, they asked where the rest of the folks were,and he said they were enjoying themselves up there in the woods in theirown quiet, innocent way, but that he had to come away in order to visita sick friend who stood in need of his ministrations. And then he packedhis trunk and borrowed a canoe and paddled away to our ship, determinedto seek some sunnier clime, where the heathen rage less furiously, andwhere the popular appetite for warm clergyman is not so intenselyvivid."
"That is a very remarkable narrative, lieutenant--very remarkableindeed!"
"Yes. But poor Mott was not so lucky."
"Who was Mott?"
"Why the Rev. Peter Mott--he was a missionary engaged upon one of theother islands. He knew nothing of mesmerism; and when his choir attackedhim upon the way home from church one day, he was unable to defendhimself, and they ate him."
"How painful!"
"I had to carry the mournful news to Mrs. Mott, who lived in SanFrancisco. When we reached that port, I called upon her and performedthe unpleasant duty. The manner in which she received the intelligencewas, I conceive, in every way extraordinary. She cried, of course, and Ioffered her what consolation I could under the circumstances. I alludedto the fact that all men must die at any rate, and dear Mott, let ushope, had gone to a better world than this one of sorrow and trouble andso forth.
"Mrs. Mott in reply said, with a voice broken with sobs: 'It isn'tthat--oh, it isn't that. I know he is better off; I'm sure he ishappier; but you know what a very particular man he was, and oh, Mr.Smiley, I fear that those brutal savages boiled him with cabbage.' Therewas no use trying to assuage her grief under such circumstances, so Ishook hands with her and left. But it was an odd idea. Mott withcabbage! I thought as I came away that he would have tasted better withthe merest flavor of onion."
When Lieutenant Smiley bade us good-night, I said,
"Mrs. Adeler, what do you think of that young man?"
"I think," she said, "that he tells the most dreadful falsehoods I everlistened to. It will be a burning shame if he succeeds in cutting outRobert with Miss Magruder."
"Mrs. Adeler, he shall not do that. Bob shall have Miss Magruder at allhazards. If he does not propose to her shortly, I shall go down andbroach the subject to her myself. We must defeat Smiley even if we haveto violate all the rules of propriety to achieve that result."
Out of the Hurly-Burly; Or, Life in an Odd Corner Page 14
