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St. Nicholas Magazine for Boys and Girls, September 1878
Mackerel Fishing
by Robert Arnold
When I was a boy, I lived on the rugged coast of New England. The sea
abounded in cod, hake, mackerel, and many other kinds of fish. The mackerel came
in "schools" in late summer, and sometimes were very plentiful. One day, my
uncle James determined to go after some of these fish, with his son George, and
invited me to go with them. We were to start before day-break the next morning.
I went to bed that night with an impatient heart, and it was a long time before
I could go to sleep. After I did get asleep, I dreamed of the whale that
swallowed Jonah, and all kinds of fishes, big and little. I was awakened by
somebody calling, in a very loud voice, "Robert! Robert!" I jumped out of bed,
with my eyes not more than half opened, and fell over the chair on which I had
put my clothes. This made me open my eyes, and I soon realized that the voice
proceeded from my cousin George, who had come to arouse me for the
fishing-voyage.
I dressed as quickly as possible, and went downstairs. All was quiet in the
house except the old clock ticking in the kitchen. I went out-of-doors and found
the stars still shining. It was half-past three o'clock in the morning. There
was no sign of daylight, and even the cocks had not begun to crow. In the
darkness I espied George, who said, "Come, it is time to start. Father is
waiting for you."
We walked across the fields to my uncle's house. Taking each a basket and knife,
we began our journey, and soon entered the pine-woods. As we walked along in the
darkness, we could scarcely see each other or the path. The wind was sighing
mournfully among the tree-tops, and, as we gazed upward, we could see the stars
twinkling in the clear sky.
We soon emerged from the forest, and came to a sandy plain. Before us was the
ocean, just discernible. There were two or three lights, belonging to vessels
that were anchored near the shore. We could see the waves and hear their murmur,
as they broke gently upon the shore. A soft breeze was blowing from the west,
and the sea was almost as smooth as a pond.
When we reached the beach, we found that it was low water. The boat was at
high-water mark. What should we do? We did as the fishermen in that region
always do in the same circumstances—took two rollers, perhaps six inches in
diameter, lifted the bow of the boat, put one of the rollers under it, and the
other upon the sand about eight feet in front of it. We then pushed the boat
until it reached the second roller, and rolled it upon that until the other was
left behind. Then the first was put in front of the boat, and so we kept on
until our craft reached the water. Uncle James and George took the oars, and I
sat in the stern, with the tiller in my hand, to steer.
We got out over the breakers without difficulty, and rowed toward the
fishing-ground. It is queer that fishermen call the place where they fish, "the
ground," but that is only one of the many queer things that they do. By this
time, daylight had come. The eastern sky was gorgeous with purple and red, and
hues that no mortal can describe. Soon a red arc appeared, and then the whole
glorious sun, looking more grand and beautiful than can be thought of by one who
has never seen the sun rise over the sea.
"How glorious!" I exclaimed, impulsively.
"Yes; it is a first-rate morning for fishing," said my uncle, whose mind was
evidently upon business, and not upon the beauties of nature.
After rowing about three miles, we stopped, and prepared for fishing. Each of us
had two lines, about twenty feet long. The hooks were about as big as large
trout-hooks. Pewter had been run around the upper part of them, so that
"sinkers" were not required. The pewter answered a double purpose; it did duty
as a sinker, and, being bright, attracted the notice of the fish. Uncle James
had brought with him some clams, which we cut from their shells and put on the
hooks. We threw in our lines and waited for a bite. We did not wait long, for,
in less than a minute, George cried out, in the most excited manner, "There's a
fish on my hook!"
"Pull, then!" shouted his father.
He was too agitated to pull at first, but, at length, managed to haul in his
line, and, behold, a slender fish, about eight inches long, showing all the
colors of the rainbow, as he held it up in the morning sun! It was our first
mackerel. While admiring George's prize, I suddenly became aware of a lively tug
at one of my own lines. I pulled it in, and found that I had caught a fish just
like the other, only a little larger. No sooner had I taken it from the hook
than my other line was violently jerked. I hauled it in hurriedly, and on the
end of it was—not a mackerel, but a small, brown fish, with a big head and an
enormous mouth. I was about to take it from the hook when my uncle called, "Look
out!" He seized it, and showed me the long, needle-like projections on its back,
with which, but for his interference, my hand might have been badly wounded.
This unwelcome visitor was a sculpin. Sculpins are very numerous in this region.
Mackerel Boats
Uncle James explained how I happened to catch one of them. They swim at a
much greater depth than mackerel usually do, and, while I was busy with one
line, the other had sunk some twelve or fifteen feet down where the sculpins
dwelt.
When mackerel are inclined to take the bait, they are usually close to the
surface of the water. They began now to bite with the greatest eagerness, and
gave us all the work that we could do. As soon as I had taken a fish from one
line, the other demanded my attention. I did not have to wait for a bite.
Indeed, as soon as the hook was thrown into the water, several mackerel would
dart for it. As George said, they were very anxious to be caught. This was very
different from my previous experience in fishing for trout in the little brooks
near my home. I used to fish all day and not get more than two or three trout,
and often I would not get one. Those that I did catch were not more than four or
five inches long. I guess some of my boy readers have had the same experience.
The only drawback was baiting the hook whenever a fish was taken from it. Uncle
James soon remedied this difficulty. He cut from the under side of a dead
mackerel six thin pieces, about half an inch in diameter, and gave each of us
two. We put them on our hooks, and they served for bait a long time. When they
were gone, we put on more of the same kind. Mackerel will bite at any very small
object, almost, that they can see, and sometimes fishermen fasten a small silver
coin to their hooks, which will do duty as bait for days. They wish to catch as
many fish as they possibly can, while they are biting, for mackerel are very
notional. Sometimes they will bite so fast as to tire their captors, and, ten
minutes after, not one can be felt or seen. Usually, they can be caught best in
the morning and toward evening. I suppose they have but two meals a day,
breakfast and supper, going without their dinner. In this respect, they resemble
trout and many other kinds of fish.
They are caught in great numbers off the coast of Maine and Massachusetts in the
months of August and September. Hundreds of schooners, large and small, and
thousands of men and boys are employed in the business. Standing upon the shore,
near Portland, and looking out upon the Atlantic, on a bright summer's day, you
can sometimes see more white, glistening sails of "mackerel-catchers" than you
can count. At the wharves of every little village on the sea-shore, or on a
river near the shore, boats and fishermen abound. Of late years, immense nets or
"seines" have been used, and often, by means of them, enormous quantities of
fish have been secured in one haul. The season is short, but most of the
fishermen, before the mackerel come and after they go, engage in fishing for cod
and hake, which are plentiful also. Mackerel-catching has its joys, but it also
has its sorrows and uncertainties. One vessel may have excellent luck while
another may be very unfortunate. In short, those engaged in the pursuit of
mackerel have to content themselves with "fishermen's luck."
While we were busily fishing, George called my attention to a dark fin,
projecting a few inches above the water, and gradually approaching the boat with
a peculiar wavy motion. Just before reaching us it sank out of sight. I cast an
inquiring glance at my cousin, who said, in a low tone of voice, "A shark!" A
feeling of wonder and dread came over me, and doubtless showed itself in my
face, for my uncle said, in an assuring voice, "He will not harm us."
The mackerel stopped biting all at once. Our fishing was over. It was now about
ten o'clock, and the sun had become warm. Half a mile from us was a small
island, with a plenty of grass and a few trees, but no houses. Uncle James
proposed that we should row to it, which we gladly did. Its shores were steep
and rocky, and we found much difficulty in landing; but at last we got ashore
and pulled the boat up after us. Among the rocks we found a quantity of
drift-wood; we gathered some, and built a fire. Uncle James produced some bread
and crackers from his basket, and, after roasting some of the nice, fat mackerel
on sharp sticks before the fire, we sat down to what seemed to us a delicious
breakfast. We were in excellent spirits, and George and I cracked jokes and
laughed to our hearts' content. After our hunger had been satisfied, we wandered
over the island, which we christened Mackerel Island, and, sitting upon a high
cliff, watched the seals as they bobbed their heads out of the water, and turned
their intelligent, dog-like faces, with visible curiosity, toward us. They did
not seem to be at all afraid, for they swam close to the rock upon which we sat.
We whistled, and they were evidently attracted by the sound. These seals are
numerous in some of the bays on the New England coast. Most of them are small,
but occasionally one is seen of considerable size. Their fur is coarse and of
little value, but they are sought after by fishermen for the sake of their oil,
which commands a ready sale for a good price. After we had got fully rested, we
launched our boat, rowed homeward, and soon landed upon the beach.
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