Carl was sitting on a bench looking up at the extra tall three story building of the Whaling Museum just across the cobbled street of Johnny Cake
Hill. Behind him sat The Seamen’s Bethel and next door to that old sailors church sits The Mariner’s Home. A well known Seafood Shanty is also
behind Carl, but to the right and down the hill, just there on the corner from which came the wonderfully heavy scent of
Fish n Chips being deep fried. Is that Beef Tallow he smells? OMG, that smells so good!
New Bedford and The Seamen’s Bethel were front and center in the beginning of Herman Melville’s book Moby Dick written in 1851. Once the age of
whale was over the city and church finally became famous again as people started to flock to New Bedford after Gregory Peck had come to town 104 years
later in 1956 to make the hit movie MOBY DICK which was taken from the pages of Melville’s book.
Initially the book Moby Dick had some minor success but it became a failure rather quickly and was out of print by the time of Melville’s death.
The phrase “Call me Ishmael” would not itself become famous until the 20th century.
Carl had managed to spend an hour or so looking at the antiques and memorabilia on display from the by-gone age of Whaling that lays within the
museum.
A tremendous skeleton of a Hump Back Baleen Whale hangs on display in the foyer and it still drips oil from it’s massive jawbone onto the floor
which gives the huge room an unfamiliar, dank and pungent smell that many first time visitors pinch their nose against and hurry off to other parts of
the museum.
From the foyer Carl rather hurriedly moved through the rest of the museum glancing at this or that because he wanted to stick his head in the
Seamen’s Bethel before he had to meet his contact.
Still gazing up at the museum he noticed the The Widow’s Walk, a cupola atop the roof where wives would pace for hours on end while scanning the
horizon watching for their men to safely return home from a trip at sea. Carl wondered if he would ever be allowed up there to gaze over New
Bedford’s waterfront. Continuing to daydream Carl tried to imagine the ocean crossing trips that had lasted as long as four years during the last
decades of the doomed whaling industry along with the many vessels of all types that were lost with their entire crews during the waning Age Of
Whale.
Lost in thought Carl jumped when someone in a deep and husky voice yelled, you must be Cahl.
Their it was, his name pronounced without the letter R.
Neither a State a Mainer nor a Swamp Yankee uses the R when talking, except maybe for the word Idea. They all pronounce it Idear. The term Swamp
Yankee is a derogatory one which is proudly accepted by the locals. This term got it’s start from others who looked down upon the Yankee’s who
lived here nearly surrounded by the Cranberry Bogs in this, the swampiest corner of Sou’east New England.
Carl turned to see a rugged heavy set man of maybe fifty wearing black boots, torn jeans and t-shirt under a quilted button down flannel, all topped
off with a blue and white pin striped hat that you’d more expect to see atop a train engineers head.
This intimidating man extended his hand to Carl with a dark eyed, wide but serious grin.
Billy told me to look for a square head up on Johnny Cake Hill at twelve and your the only one in spitting distance up here.
Square Head, asks Carl?
Yeah, it’s what we call Norwegian’s here about’s, I’m Arnie the Captain I’m a Norwegian too.
They shook hands and Carl felt like his hand was just lost in the vise like paw of a Grizzly.
Arnie was obviously a powerhouse and Carl had just received his first of many lessons about Fishermen.
The lessons to follow will make Carls head spin.
Arnie asked, that all your gear? Seems a bit light, grab it and let’s go.
Arnie then walked off leaving Carl standing there a bit bewidered.
The Captain had made no offer to help him with his stuff. Shaking his head Carl grabs his bags and trots after Arnie down the hill towards Pier3.
Carl asks, So Arnie, what has Billy told you about all this?
As Arnie begins to speak, Carl can just make out the sea of masts over and beyond the Fishermen’s Union Hall further down the street.
Arnie stops and rubs his eyes.
Welp, Billyboy told me you are writing a story for some big Washington paper and I’m to take you to George’s with us and show you what
Scallopin’s all about.
Arnie continues talking as they once again begin their walk down the uneven cobblestone street, you can find a rack down in the Foc’sle with the
boys, I use the other rack behind the wheelhouse where I bunk for all my gear.
The chief’s name is Ron and he sleeps behind the engine back aft in the Fiddley and he’s gonna be the one to look after you.
Suddenly Arnie stopped again, he whirled around and glared into Carls eyes. With a growl he says to Carl, stay the hell away from Paul and the
wheelhouse when he’s on watch! Paul is the Mate and is not one to make enemies with. He’s a good man from down Bah Habah way but he’s real
superstitious and he don’t much trust strangers so leave him be. You got any questions you bring em to me or the chief or talk to the boys. The
cookie Johnny is ok and friendly enough but I’m warnin ya now, leave the Mate be!
With a bit of a nervous lump growing in his throat it’s now perfectly clear to Carl that Arnie is not very happy with this arrangement but as they
round the union hall Carls attention was instantly hi-jacked by all the hustle and bustle that’s happening on Pier3. There were trucks everywhere,
men loading things on and off boats, one man is yelling from the top of a mast to turn the running lights on.
On another boat it looks like the men aboard it are swinging baskets full of fish from an overhead boom to a box truck where two guys grab and steer
the heavy basket as it lowers to an old beam style scale. Carl hears 126 yelled out from the truck and someone on the boats yells back 126 aye.
Everywhere Carl looked it seemed like pure pandemonium. Nearing a BIG wooden boat Carl see’s the boats hull is painted a dark forest green with
black trim and the wheelhouse which sat at the back of the boat is painted a brilliant white as is the masts and rigging.
There are two masts, the main mast is just behind the bows where a hatchway seems to lead down into the boat. The other, shorter mast is just in front
of the wheel house and there is a thin wire stretching between them from their very tips. The boats massive hydraulic winch which hauls the Scallop
Drags back from the bottom also sits just in front of the wheelhouse. Looking at the stern Carl sees a name painted white over the green hull in large
block letters, SEA TREK, NEW BEDFORD. Carl also sees a tractor trailer parked next to the boat that was full of huge blocks of ice that were being
slid down a shoot to a grinder which was chewing up those ice blocks then blowing the ice into an 8 inch hose which disappeared down into the boat.
Carl could also see a small Tug and Barge tied up along and outside the boat. To Carl it all sounded like a jet engine at full power being this close
to all the goings on.
Continued…
edit on 08-19-2021 by PiratesCut because: fat fingers
edit on 08-19-2021 by PiratesCut because: fat fingers