Jack Harvey's Adventures; or, The Rival Campers Among the Oyster Pirates

by Gabrielle E. Jackson

  CHAPTER VII DREDGING FLEET TACTICS

  Jack Harvey was a strong, muscular youth, toughened and enured to roughweather, and even hardship, by reason of summers spent in yachting andhis spare time in winter divided between open air sports and work in theschool gymnasium. But the steady, laborious work of the first day atdredging had brought into action muscles comparatively little usedbefore, and moreover overtaxed them. So, when Harvey awoke, the followingmorning, and rolled out of his bunk, he felt twinges of pain go throughhim. His muscles were stiffened, and he ached from ankles to shoulders.

  He awoke Tom Edwards, knowing that if he did not, the mate soon would,and in rougher fashion. The companionship in misfortune, that had thusthrown the boy and the man intimately together, made the difference intheir ages seem less, and their friendship like that of long standing. Soit was the natural thing, and instinctive, for Harvey to address theother familiarly.

  "Wake up, Tom," he said, shaking him gently; "it's time to get up."

  Tom Edwards opened his eyes, looked into the face of his new friend andgroaned.

  "Oh, I can't," he murmured. "I just can't get up. I'm done for. I'llnever get out of this alive. I'm going to die. Jack, old fellow, you tellthem what happened to me, if I never get ashore again. You'll comethrough, but I can't."

  Harvey looked at the sorry figure, compassionately.

  "It's rough on you," he said, "because you're soft and not used toexercise. But don't you go getting discouraged this way. You're not goingto die--not by a good deal. You're just sea-sick; and every one feelslike dying when they get that way. You've just got to get out, becauseAdams will make you. So you better start in. Come on; we'll get some ofthat beautiful coffee and that other stuff, and you'll feel better."

  By much urging, Harvey induced his companion to arise, and they went ondeck.

  It was a fine, clear morning, and the sight that met their eyes wasreally a pretty one. In the waters of Tar Bay were scores of craftbelonging to the oyster fleet. They were for the most part lying atanchor, now, with smoke curling up in friendly fashion from their littleiron stove funnels. There were vessels of many sorts and sizes; a fewlarge schooners, of the dredging class, bulky of build and homely;punjies, broader of bow and sharper and deeper aft, giving them quicknessin tacking across the oyster reefs; bug-eyes, with their sharp prows,bearing some fancied resemblance, by reason of the hawse-holes on eitherbow, to a bug's eye, or a buck's eye--known also in some waters as"buck-eyes"--clean-lined craft, sharp at either end; also little saucyskip-jacks, and the famous craft of the Chesapeake, the canoes.

  These latter, known also as tonging-boats, were remarkably narrow craft,made of plank, about four feet across the gunwales and averaging abouttwenty feet long. Some of them were already under weigh, the larger onescarrying two triangular sails and a jib. It seemed to Harvey as thoughthe sail they bore up under must inevitably capsize them; but they sailedfast and stiff.

  A few of these craft were already engaged in tonging for oysters, in astrip of the bay just south of Barren Island, where the water shoaled toa depth of only one fathom. The two men aboard were alternately raisingand lowering, by means of a small crank, a pair of oyster tongs, the jawsof which closed mechanically with the strain upon the rope to which itwas attached.

  To the southward, other vessels were beginning to come in upon thedredging grounds, until it seemed as though all of Maryland's small craftmust be engaged in the business of oyster fishing.

  With an eye to the present usefulness of his men, more than from anycompassion upon their condition, Captain Hamilton Haley had ordered abetter breakfast to be served. There was fried bacon, and a broth of somesort; and the coffee seemed a bit stronger and more satisfying. Harveyurged his comrade to eat; and Tom Edwards, who had rallied a little fromhis sea-sickness, with the vessel now steady under him, in the quietwater, managed to make a fair breakfast.

  They made sail, shortly, and stood to the southward, following the lineof the island shores, but at some distance off the land. The hard,monotonous labour of working the dredges began once more. Jack Harvey,lame and stiff in his joints, found it more laborious than before.

  Tom Edwards, somewhat steadier than on the previous day, but in no fitcondition to work, was forced to the task. He made a most extraordinary,and, indeed, ludicrous figure--like a scarecrow decked out in anunusually good suit of clothes. He had no overcoat left him, but hadsought relief from the weather by the purchase of an extra woollenundershirt from Captain Haley's second-hand wardrobe. His appearance was,therefore, strikingly out of keeping with his surroundings.

  In him one would have beheld a tall, light complexioned man; with blondmoustache, that had once been trimly cut and slightly curled; clad in hisblack suit, with cut-away coat; his one linen shirt sadly in need ofstarching, but worn for whatever warmth it would give; even his onecrumbled linen collar worn for similar purpose; and, with this, a bulkypair of woollen mittens, to protect his hands that were as yet unused tomanual labour.

  Watching him, as he toiled at the opposite winch, Harvey could notrestrain himself, once, from bursting into laughter; but, the nextmoment, the pale face, with its expression of distress, turned hislaughter into pity. It was certainly no joke for poor Tom Edwards.

  Mate Adams brought on the other two recruits, after a time, and they tooktheir places at the winders. They were not strong enough to workcontinuously, however, and the two and Tom Edwards "spelled" one anotherby turns.

  The wind fell away for an hour about noon, and there was a respite forall, save for the culling of the oysters that had been taken aboard; andJack Harvey found opportunity to speak with the two newcomers.

  Theirs was the old story--only too familiar to the history of thedredging fleet.

  "My name is Wallace Brooks," said one of them, a thick-set, good-naturedlooking youth of about twenty years. "I come from up Haverstraw way, onthe Hudson river--and I thought I was used to hard work, for I've workedin the brick-yards there some; but that's just play compared to this.

  "Well, I went down to New York, to look for work, and I fell in with thischap. His name's Willard Thompson. He's a New Yorker, and has knockedaround there all his life. I'm afraid he won't stand much of this workhere. He was a clerk in a store, but always wanted to take a sea voyage."

  Willard Thompson, standing wearily by the forecastle, did not, indeed,present a robust appearance, calculated to endure the hardships of awinter on Chesapeake Bay. He was rather tall and thin and sallow, dressedmore flashily than his friend, Brooks, and was of a weaker type.

  "We fell in with a man in South street, one day," continued Brooks, "andhe told us all about what a fine place this bay was; how it was warm hereall winter, and oyster dredging the easiest work there is--'nothing to dobut watch the boat sail, dragging a dredge after it,' was the way he putit. He didn't say anything about this everlasting grind of winding at themachines. Said the pay was twenty-five a month, and live like they do atthe Astor House.

  "He fooled us, all right, and we signed with him in New York, and he sentus down to Baltimore. They put us into a big boarding-house there, with alot of men. Well, we found out more what it was going to be like, and wewere going to back out and get away; but they were too smart forus--drugged our coffee one night--and, well, you know the rest. We'vewaked up at last. Whew, but's tough! I wish I was back in the brick-yard,with a mile of bricks to handle. Isn't old Haley a pirate?"

  They were ordered to work again, soon, and the conversation ended.

  Working that afternoon with the sailor, Sam Black, at the winch, Harveygot a further insight to the devious ways and the shrewdness of thedredgers, of the type of Hamilton Haley.

  There sailed up, after a time, a smaller bug-eye, which ran along forsome miles abreast of the Brandt, while the two captains exchangedconfidences.

  "Ahoy, Bill," called Haley; "what d'yer know?"

  "The Old Man's looking for you," returned the other.

 
"What's he want of me?"

  "Wants to see your license."

  "Well, I've got it, all right."

  Haley glanced, as he spoke, at his license numbers, displayed on two ofthe sails.

  "Where is he now?"

  "Down below Smith's Island."

  "Has he boarded you?"

  "Yes, looked us all over. We're all clear."

  "Then," continued Haley, "I'll run alongside at sundown; where'll yoube?"

  "Just around the foot of the island."

  "What does he mean?" inquired Harvey. "Who's the Old Man?"

  "Oh, he means the captain of the police tub," replied Sam Black,grinning. "They'll look us over, by and by, just to see if everything'sstraight. It's one of the state's oyster navy."

  Harvey's heart gave a jump. Might not here be a chance for liberty? But,the next moment, his hopes were dashed.

  "Don't you go reckoning on it, though, youngster," continued Sam Black,"for 'twon't do you a bit of good. There's no police as slick as HamHaley, nor the rest of his crowd. What's the good of two old policesteamers and a few schooners in goodness knows how many hundred squaremiles of bay, with hundreds of harbours to run to and hide, and islandsto dodge 'round, and a score of pirates like Haley to help each otherdodge? And any captain in the fleet willing to tell where the police tubis?"

  "I tell you, it ain't often they catch a captain napping, no matter whathe's done. Let 'em swear out a warrant, up in Baltimore, for a captainthat has been beating up his men. Well, I dunno how it does come, hardly;but, all the same, the news gets down the bay and spreads all through thefleet like a field of grass afire. Pshaw! By the time they gets him, thatcap'n has got half a new crew, and there isn't a man aboard as saw thebeating done, except the cap'n and his mate; and if they've done anybeating up, you bet they've clean forgotten it."

  Harvey's face looked blanker than before. "Then there isn't much hope inthe law, no matter what happens," he said.

  "Haley and the rest of 'em have got the law," responded Black. "Haleyshowed that fellow, Edwards, the law. Don't you get in the way of it.That's my advice."

  "All the captains alike?" asked Harvey.

  "About a score or so of 'em are downright pirates," replied Sam Black."They're the kind I've fell in with, mostly. There's good ones, too, Isuppose--or not so bad."

  For all the sailor said, Jack Harvey was not without some faint hope, asthe afternoon wore away and the bug-eye headed for the foot of lowerHooper Island, that the expected visit of the police boat might affordhim and Tom Edwards the opportunity for escape. He gave the news to TomEdwards, at supper time, and that weary unfortunate beamed with renewedhope.

  "It's our chance," he said. "Won't I fill that navy captain full of whatthat brute Haley has done aboard here!"

  They rounded the foot of Hooper Island, after a time, and anchored in abight of the north shore. Presently the craft that had hailed the Brandtbore up; and, shortly after, still another. The two came alongside, withtheir sails fluttering--but they did not let them run.

  "There's two for each of you for the night, and till I get an overhaulingfrom the Old Man," called Haley to the captains of the other craft.

  A moment later, Jack Harvey and Tom Edwards found themselves hustled fromthe deck of the Brandt aboard one of the strange bug-eyes. Likewise, themen, Thompson and Brooks, found themselves similarly transferred.Forewarned, Harvey and his companion made neither inquiry nor protest.They knew it would be of no avail. But one of the others had ventured toknow the reason.

  "You jes' please shut up, and ask no questions," was the satisfactiongained from Jim Adams.

  The two strange craft made sail again, and stood to the southeast,through Hooper Strait.

  And so, when, next morning, Jack Harvey, looking from the deck of his newprison, saw a small steamer go by, with the smoke pouring from itsfunnel, he knew full well the significance of it; he realized theopportunity for freedom that was so near, and yet beyond reach. He was nocoward, but a lump rose in his throat that half choked him. Tom Edwardsgazed, with eyes that were moistened.

  That day, toward noon, a steamer lay alongside the Brandt; and a captain,eying Haley with stern disapproval, said, "Oh, yes, you've got yourlicense, all right, Haley, but you're short-handed as usual. I know--it'sthe same old story. Looking for men, and can't get them. Now I know youdredge with more, so you needn't lie. I suspect it's lucky for you that Ihaven't time to follow you up. But I warn you, there have beencomplaints, and some day you'll fetch up short, if you don't treat yourmen right."

  "And ain't that just what I do?" demanded Haley, highly injured. "Don't Itreat 'em better'n half the captains down the bay? Good grub and easywork--why, they're too fat to wind, half the time."

  The captain's face relaxed into a smile that was half amusement, halfcontempt.

  "I just warn you; that's all," he repeated; and went aboard the steamer.Haley watched his departure with a chuckle.

  "Get her under weigh again, Jim," he said. "We'll pick up our crew."

  By noon, the Brandt had run in to the small harbour where the twobug-eyes were waiting; and, that afternoon, Harvey and the others wereback at work, under the abuse of Jim Adams, hounded on by him, to make upfor lost time.