The Republican journal., 1906-03-08
A ROCKY BOTTOM CRUISE.


Out from their land-lOcked harbor at the
earliest flush of dawn,
Over the bars and the breakers white, the
fishermen come on;
Daring both sea and weather, far out on the
oceans foam,
They toll and strive. from sun I'LL sun, loi
their loving ones at home.
Most any time from midnight hours to the
rising of the sun,
You can find their prows turned seaWard
for lonely four hours run.
With the wind sou'west and the course
southeast, they take the wind abeam,
Nor change the course nor slack the sheet
till the land no more is seen.
Then out comes the generous "grub-pail,' -
while with hand and knee on the wheel
And eve on the compass and stuff" of the
sail, he makes out his fisherman meal.
A SANDY Points wrinkle" is pounded or cut,
and the hook is baited with care,
Then s'down" goes the wheel, and ''into the
wind" flies the boat like thing of the
air.
And into the depths of Old Oceans blue,
goes the sscod-craft' trial to make
If the soundings are right and the bottom is
rough and the fish will swallow bait.
And the s'standing-rOom" is cleared away
of all but the lines and gait,
For when they bite with real might it is
"hShy> lore ana all.
If the fog is thick and the "stray" is bad,
and the breeze keeps pricking on,
And the willy cod refuses to eat, the fisher
man ''heads 'er for home";
And growls at his luck, in fisherman's way,
and swears-the unehristian man,
But consoles himself that some better day
he'll give them trial again.
But if ten fathoms and nine are found when
tho load on the hOttOn strikes.
And the water shoalens as on he drifts, ah,
these are the signs he likes.
On the Rocky Ground he is happy at last,
and bait and lines and gear,
From bow to stern and under foot, give tok-
en- the fish are here.
A few short hours of southern tide and the
fishing time is done,
Then he reels up his lines and cleans up his
boat and "keeps 'er off, for home.
Nor'west he steers for the Harbor Bars till
the western horizon reveals
The lone Great Hill on Chatham's shores,
with its woods and knobs and fields.
The little boat skins DER the waves, and
soon is up with the land;
And feels the send of the cOmbing SwellS,
'ere they break on the hidden sands.
Then the fisherman bold, with eagle eye and
steady hand on wheel,
Along the back of the whitening surge, like
a sea gull seems to steal
Two ''heavy seas" he watches break ION the
crest of the third he swings
His staunch little craft, and in its foam is
borne like bird on the wing.
The spray flies high, with growl and roar !;
like chip the boat is tossed,
But when the wave has spent its wrath the
Outer Bar is crossed.
And the fisherman sits as calm and cool as
if fear were thing unknown,
And laughs at the timorous "inshore fleet"
tied safely up at home"
Then he takes off his oiskins and slows
them away, for he's over the Harbor
Bar,
And tits smooth water now, till another
day, when he sails Ger the ocean far
His life is hard and full of care, but he's
happy still, we trust;
And when his daily work is DER he sleeps
the sleep of the just.
So, every day he sails away at risk Of boat
and life,
A living to earn as best he can for his little
ones and wife.
There is something about this life on the
deep that faScl mates the man;
So free and bold, and uncontrolled, away
from the bounds of the land.
He seems closer to God on the oceans
swell, with His wonders all around,
Than ever he can with the cl0ds of the land
in the smoke and dust of a town.
And when his cruise in life is done and he
heads for the Bars once more,
May the heavenly breeZes fill his sails and
watt him safely DER.
And anchored snug and sure, at last, at the
foot of the Great White Throne,
May the Master say to the fisherman gray,
"Thou hast earned Welcome Home. ,"
."Sandy Point" referred to is Monomoy.