It looks like you're using an Ad Blocker.
Please white-list or disable AboveTopSecret.com in your ad-blocking tool.
Thank you.
Some features of ATS will be disabled while you continue to use an ad-blocker.
Spring the season for Shackers -SP2022- non-writer
page: 1share:
From the memories and extensive knowledge I’ve gained through the years which I used for my reference material, I’ve written a fictional story I
that decided to write in the first person.
I very much hope everyone enjoys it.
With that, allow me try to paint a picture for you.
My name is Ron and it was the mid 1970’s and this one particular year turned out to be a pivotal year in my life.
There was no way then for me to know that as this story began to unfold that the following weeks would contain the defining days that would begin to shape the man I was to become.
Spring, is Shacker season…..
I was young and strong, still a boy in so many ways not yet being 19 years old but I was rapidly becoming a man who was absolutely full of self confidence and pure determination with what I wanted to do with my life and I pulled off something so rare it’s nearly unheard of.
I was one of the very few people that ever managed to BS his way onto the deck of an Offshore Commercial Scallop Trawler during the dead of Winter and actually keep his site (job).
In this telling it needs to be understood that Fisherman still had a union protecting them back in the 70’s. The International Seafarers Union, something that became sorely missed in later years!
Here’s where Spring came into it.
Per union rules boats were only allowed to hire new inexperienced men or as they are called “Shackers” beginning in the Spring on the first day of April and the break-in season for Shackers ended on the last day of September. Commercial Fishing is a very, very dangerous business!
If a man did get a site on a boat during this time but did not succeed at becoming a full share deck-hand by Septembers end he was supposed to leave the boat and wait until next April to try again.
Rarely did any of these men or boys that failed to make it come back because if you were hired on and could not get yourself to full share during those six months it was very unlikely you ever would because those six months had already proved you didn’t have the right mind and/or body for it.
Besides, the whole fleet would have heard about you by then and you’d be considered a Plug, a guy unable to hack it, making it very unlikely that any Skipper would hire you on again in the future.
More often than not Shacker’s quit or they just got fired, usually during or at the end of their first trip offshore.
It was not at all uncommon for a Shacker to quit and turn in on the very first day that the work began far offshore.
As a rule most people have absolutely no idea just how hard and demanding working on one of these boats truly is, not only physically but even more so, mentally.
Less than one out one hundred men and boys who try their hand at offshore commercial fishing actually succeed at making a career.
BTW, YES! there is the occasional woman who in this crazy business of offshore scalloping, again, one of the hardest, most physical types of commercial fishing there is, actually does pull it off and make it a career for herself. Think I’m kidding? Pick a fight with one of ‘em….!
I had been working on the Draggers for a year and a half or so and the Portuguese were building so many super efficient double drum stern trawlers and the methods they developed and used by working in teams to catch Cod, Haddock, Pollock, Lobsters, and the Flounders were so successful that the whole dragger fleet was quickly seeing smaller and smaller landings of these species brought to auction and to make matters worse, the huge and very valuable Halibut were all but completely wiped out by this time.
The Scallopers however were in a kind of Hay Day at that time and were making big money by working the huge beds of scallops that had been found all throughout the massive patches of the greenish brown quarter sized sand dollars or as we fisherman call them, buttons that are located over vast stretches of the sandy bottom just South of Long Island New York.
One thing I absolutely hated and refused to do not only the on Draggers but on any boat was to scrub eggs off female lobsters or blow the eggs off using a high pressure hose. Every single time I got my hands on an egger, over the side it went. I didn’t care what anyone said or did about it.
As soon as a pile was dumped on deck and I could get to it I’d grab every egger I could find and toss it.
Throwing eggers over pissed a lot of guys off and threats of harm came at me quite often. Bring it!
Tossing eggers over has even cost me a few jobs over they years too and I reported each one of the captains that fired me. These captains were not Skipper’s in my eyes. The word Skipper is a term of respect!
One late December morning just after Christmas while it was blowing a full Sou’east gale and the rain was coming down in ripping sideways sheets I was cruising the docks in the beat up and rusty 4 door straight six Nova my buddies called the Blue Limo when I JUST barely spotted a Scallop Drag hanging in the air.
Guys were doing gear work on a big Scalloper down in corner there tucked in right alongside State Pier. If I had turned my head at the wrong second I would have missed seeing it completely.
State Pier is where larger ships dock in New Bedford to load and unload goods too and fro from the cavernous warehouse at it’s Eastern end. Many ships would navigate The Cape Cod Canal* if they could fit inside it when they were coming or going North. It was much faster and safer than taking the outside passage around Cape Cod and The Islands. Fishermen certainly use this scenic route!
The State Pier stands twice probably closer to three times the height out of the water than all the docks both big and small that the fishing boats use all along both sides of the harbor and when the tide was low like it was right then, it made it a very tricky and dangerous business to get down to the deck of a fishing boat from this pier, especially if things were iced up.
At the time there were only three ladders that actually reached the water.
There was one ladder along each of the pier’s three lengthy bulkheads which were just enough to cover the current laws and safety regulations.
If a person was unlucky enough to you tumble from the bulkhead into the water during the Winter or cold months and there was no one around or a boat nearby that saw the person go over then the chances were more than good this was to be their last swim, ever.
Now, boats doing gear work on a Sunday was all but unheard of and I slammed on the breaks and whipped around as fast as I could.
I was nervously excited as I rolled up to the boat. I ran to the edge of the dock and stood there in the pouring rain looking down on the work deck some 20 odd feet below me.
As I stood there looking around an older 50ish looking guy stepped from the wheelhouse and I quickly asked if the Skipper was around. “You’re talking to him” says this guy who just by the look and sound of him screamed, Fisherman, one from Maine.
I replied with the now all too familiar question, “Got any sites open Skipper”? and to my surprise the answer or question I got back was, “You ever been fishing before”? My head head was reeling. FISHING!
He hadn’t asked, “You ever been Scalloping before?”…..
For six months I’d been doing all but beg to get on one of these boats.
Continued
I very much hope everyone enjoys it.
With that, allow me try to paint a picture for you.
My name is Ron and it was the mid 1970’s and this one particular year turned out to be a pivotal year in my life.
There was no way then for me to know that as this story began to unfold that the following weeks would contain the defining days that would begin to shape the man I was to become.
Spring, is Shacker season…..
I was young and strong, still a boy in so many ways not yet being 19 years old but I was rapidly becoming a man who was absolutely full of self confidence and pure determination with what I wanted to do with my life and I pulled off something so rare it’s nearly unheard of.
I was one of the very few people that ever managed to BS his way onto the deck of an Offshore Commercial Scallop Trawler during the dead of Winter and actually keep his site (job).
In this telling it needs to be understood that Fisherman still had a union protecting them back in the 70’s. The International Seafarers Union, something that became sorely missed in later years!
Here’s where Spring came into it.
Per union rules boats were only allowed to hire new inexperienced men or as they are called “Shackers” beginning in the Spring on the first day of April and the break-in season for Shackers ended on the last day of September. Commercial Fishing is a very, very dangerous business!
If a man did get a site on a boat during this time but did not succeed at becoming a full share deck-hand by Septembers end he was supposed to leave the boat and wait until next April to try again.
Rarely did any of these men or boys that failed to make it come back because if you were hired on and could not get yourself to full share during those six months it was very unlikely you ever would because those six months had already proved you didn’t have the right mind and/or body for it.
Besides, the whole fleet would have heard about you by then and you’d be considered a Plug, a guy unable to hack it, making it very unlikely that any Skipper would hire you on again in the future.
More often than not Shacker’s quit or they just got fired, usually during or at the end of their first trip offshore.
It was not at all uncommon for a Shacker to quit and turn in on the very first day that the work began far offshore.
As a rule most people have absolutely no idea just how hard and demanding working on one of these boats truly is, not only physically but even more so, mentally.
Less than one out one hundred men and boys who try their hand at offshore commercial fishing actually succeed at making a career.
BTW, YES! there is the occasional woman who in this crazy business of offshore scalloping, again, one of the hardest, most physical types of commercial fishing there is, actually does pull it off and make it a career for herself. Think I’m kidding? Pick a fight with one of ‘em….!
I had been working on the Draggers for a year and a half or so and the Portuguese were building so many super efficient double drum stern trawlers and the methods they developed and used by working in teams to catch Cod, Haddock, Pollock, Lobsters, and the Flounders were so successful that the whole dragger fleet was quickly seeing smaller and smaller landings of these species brought to auction and to make matters worse, the huge and very valuable Halibut were all but completely wiped out by this time.
The Scallopers however were in a kind of Hay Day at that time and were making big money by working the huge beds of scallops that had been found all throughout the massive patches of the greenish brown quarter sized sand dollars or as we fisherman call them, buttons that are located over vast stretches of the sandy bottom just South of Long Island New York.
One thing I absolutely hated and refused to do not only the on Draggers but on any boat was to scrub eggs off female lobsters or blow the eggs off using a high pressure hose. Every single time I got my hands on an egger, over the side it went. I didn’t care what anyone said or did about it.
As soon as a pile was dumped on deck and I could get to it I’d grab every egger I could find and toss it.
Throwing eggers over pissed a lot of guys off and threats of harm came at me quite often. Bring it!
Tossing eggers over has even cost me a few jobs over they years too and I reported each one of the captains that fired me. These captains were not Skipper’s in my eyes. The word Skipper is a term of respect!
One late December morning just after Christmas while it was blowing a full Sou’east gale and the rain was coming down in ripping sideways sheets I was cruising the docks in the beat up and rusty 4 door straight six Nova my buddies called the Blue Limo when I JUST barely spotted a Scallop Drag hanging in the air.
Guys were doing gear work on a big Scalloper down in corner there tucked in right alongside State Pier. If I had turned my head at the wrong second I would have missed seeing it completely.
State Pier is where larger ships dock in New Bedford to load and unload goods too and fro from the cavernous warehouse at it’s Eastern end. Many ships would navigate The Cape Cod Canal* if they could fit inside it when they were coming or going North. It was much faster and safer than taking the outside passage around Cape Cod and The Islands. Fishermen certainly use this scenic route!
The State Pier stands twice probably closer to three times the height out of the water than all the docks both big and small that the fishing boats use all along both sides of the harbor and when the tide was low like it was right then, it made it a very tricky and dangerous business to get down to the deck of a fishing boat from this pier, especially if things were iced up.
At the time there were only three ladders that actually reached the water.
There was one ladder along each of the pier’s three lengthy bulkheads which were just enough to cover the current laws and safety regulations.
If a person was unlucky enough to you tumble from the bulkhead into the water during the Winter or cold months and there was no one around or a boat nearby that saw the person go over then the chances were more than good this was to be their last swim, ever.
Now, boats doing gear work on a Sunday was all but unheard of and I slammed on the breaks and whipped around as fast as I could.
I was nervously excited as I rolled up to the boat. I ran to the edge of the dock and stood there in the pouring rain looking down on the work deck some 20 odd feet below me.
As I stood there looking around an older 50ish looking guy stepped from the wheelhouse and I quickly asked if the Skipper was around. “You’re talking to him” says this guy who just by the look and sound of him screamed, Fisherman, one from Maine.
I replied with the now all too familiar question, “Got any sites open Skipper”? and to my surprise the answer or question I got back was, “You ever been fishing before”? My head head was reeling. FISHING!
He hadn’t asked, “You ever been Scalloping before?”…..
For six months I’d been doing all but beg to get on one of these boats.
Continued
Page 2
“Sure have” I said, “I’ve been fishing a bit over a year and a half now.”
This fisherman as it turned out was one of the best known Scallop Captains on the East Coast, Jimmy Tinker himself from Maine.
I had heard that name before, more than once.
Jimmy’s words then were, “On a Sunday, in this weather, you’re looking?”
All I could think to do was just raise my hands in the air and he answered, “Well, we’re just about done with the gear work so be here in the morning with your sea bags packed and ready to go by 9 bells”.
My head was swimming and I was struggling to keep a blank look on my face like this was just business as usual.
With barely a nod I managed to get out the words, “Sure thing Skipper, I’ll be here at 8 bells sharp.”
With a little chuckle Tinkerbell as he was also known went back inside where it was warm and dry in the Wheelhouse.
I stood there looking down at the men on the deck for a minute and when it looked like one was getting ready to say something to me I just turned and hurried to my car.
I already had all my gear and some some of the stuff like boots and oilers I had double or even triple of and I’d bought a whole box of the knives these guys use to shuck scallops. I’d opened quite a few scallops that came up in the nets on the Draggers but nothing like I was about to experience, this was a whole nother game now!
I’d done it, I had a site and if my luck held out, I was going Scalloping!
Now, to be honest my stomach felt way more than a little bit of nervous stress as I drove off the pier because no one on the boat had any idea that I’d never worked on a Scalloper before and if found out, no way would they take me.
Jimmy Tinker had just asked the wrong question so I went for it. After all, I didn’t actually lie, did I…..
Little did I know that six days later, almost from the minute the Skipper agreed to take me on I would feel like I was dying and that my wrists would feel like rusty squeaking hinges when I moved my hands or that I’d be discovering muscles I never even knew existed.
By that time I had also asked myself a question a dozen times at the very least. “If not for the time I had spent on the draggers, would I have already failed out here?” Scalloping is man killing work!
Turns out that being bent over a checker board ripping and gutting Cod and Haddock for 24 hours straight was not the hardest work I’d ever done after all, not by a long shot.
The next morning just before 8 bells I climbed aboard then went down forward and tossed all my gear in an empty rack the cook pointed out to me.
Thirty or forty minutes later the lines were thrown and we were underway Southbound, heading towards the horizon and the shear immensity of open ocean that lay beyond.
Nine of the eleven men onboard lived, slept, and ate in the Foc’sle which also included the galley and it was located one deck below the main deck down in the bow’s of the boat just forward of the Fish Hold. The Skipper and First Mate on most all of these Eastern Rigs bunked back aft behind the wheelhouse.
I had been in more than a few of these V shaped Foc’sle’s while searching for a site but this one washuge, The SEAFARER was big for a wooden trawler.
The Harvey Gamage Shipyard in Maine built all these beautiful boats which were by far, the finest Heavy Weather Wooden Beam Trawler’s constructed the on The East Coast!
Man oh man had I scored. I was on a High Liner. One of The Finest Kind at that!
Inside the Foc’sle there were 14 upper and lower bunks lining the outer hull down in this monster boat, all in rows with six bunks to Starboard and eight bunks to Port.
While stowing my gear and making up my rack I noticed all the bunks were lined with layers of cardboard against the hull.
With only three inches of oak plank between the bunks and the Winter Weather outside, this had to be for insulation. It didn’t take me long to cut up boxes the cook had left in a corner while he had been busy stowing a ton of grub away and he’d said that I could have and I quickly placed three layers of cardboard up against the hull in my bunk like the rest of the guys had done.
There was a huge and long V shaped table right in the middle of the Foc’sle just in front the ladder when looking forward that had collapsible edges and the bench seats that lined each side doubled as storage lockers with all the bunks above them.
Most of the cooks working area faced aft behind the ladder that led to the deck except for the huge flat top grill and oven that burned 2-oil the way an old furnace does with a carburetor. The Galley Stove also provided all the heat to warm the Foc’sle during the cold months and it was tucked in on the Starboard side but faced forward with four lockers between it and the first two double bunks that lined the hull.
There was also a reefer/freezer built into the bulkhead at the end of the long counter off to the right of the huge double sink.
On the side wall, not far forward from it sat one tiny porcelain sink and a small piece of broken mirror secured above it which I assumed was where all the guys shaved. Did these guys even shave at sea?
There was no doubt that every Foc’sle I’d been in on these Eastern Rigs had nearly the exact same layout no matter the size of the boat, just more or less of everything that was built into them.
Looking over toward the roaring galley stove I watched as the cook stringed long coils of different types of sausage on the 4 lines of heavy bailing wire that hung above and across the flat top grill there.
I could tell the first two coils that must have weighed 50 pounds each was the Portuguese sausage Linguica. The third coil was spicy Portuguese Chourico and the last coil was a Polish Kielbasa. Two hundred pounds of hanging meat. The cook who was named Steve saw me watching and said, “Best to give it a day and you can just cut hunks off anytime you want.”
Steve pointed around as he spoke.
“I got a big wheel of extra sharp cheddar in that locker there which I’ll be putting out and this one here has a quarter of our breads and rolls in it.”
I took a look and all the breads and rolls were either Portuguese or Italian and uncut!
OMG! My mouth was watering.
Then I really got a surprise when Steve fished around in one of the big lockers in front of the stove then dropped five cartons of Marlboro’s and three cartons of Pall Malls in front of me. Here’s your smokes.
“Do you smoke or do you sell ‘em back on the beach like I do?” he asked. “Ain’t it great we only pay *$3.00 a carton for them!”
Steve I learned, was a talker…..
*$3.00 a carton. Military people understand this well, they were tax exempt but Steve should not have passed them out before we were at least 3 miles outside any U.S. owned land according to the law.
He went on, “I can trade you some Kool’s for Marlboro if you want.” I shook my head no and just said thanks. This all seemed like common boat knowledge here but it was new to me so I just kept my mouth shut. Thoughts of thanks for the smokes and the heads up on how it all works ran through my brain as I grabbed myself a large paper cup of steaming hot black coffee.
This was high octane boiled boat coffee. When you reach the bottom of the pot you use a paper towel to catch the grinds as you pour.
Continued
“Sure have” I said, “I’ve been fishing a bit over a year and a half now.”
This fisherman as it turned out was one of the best known Scallop Captains on the East Coast, Jimmy Tinker himself from Maine.
I had heard that name before, more than once.
Jimmy’s words then were, “On a Sunday, in this weather, you’re looking?”
All I could think to do was just raise my hands in the air and he answered, “Well, we’re just about done with the gear work so be here in the morning with your sea bags packed and ready to go by 9 bells”.
My head was swimming and I was struggling to keep a blank look on my face like this was just business as usual.
With barely a nod I managed to get out the words, “Sure thing Skipper, I’ll be here at 8 bells sharp.”
With a little chuckle Tinkerbell as he was also known went back inside where it was warm and dry in the Wheelhouse.
I stood there looking down at the men on the deck for a minute and when it looked like one was getting ready to say something to me I just turned and hurried to my car.
I already had all my gear and some some of the stuff like boots and oilers I had double or even triple of and I’d bought a whole box of the knives these guys use to shuck scallops. I’d opened quite a few scallops that came up in the nets on the Draggers but nothing like I was about to experience, this was a whole nother game now!
I’d done it, I had a site and if my luck held out, I was going Scalloping!
Now, to be honest my stomach felt way more than a little bit of nervous stress as I drove off the pier because no one on the boat had any idea that I’d never worked on a Scalloper before and if found out, no way would they take me.
Jimmy Tinker had just asked the wrong question so I went for it. After all, I didn’t actually lie, did I…..
Little did I know that six days later, almost from the minute the Skipper agreed to take me on I would feel like I was dying and that my wrists would feel like rusty squeaking hinges when I moved my hands or that I’d be discovering muscles I never even knew existed.
By that time I had also asked myself a question a dozen times at the very least. “If not for the time I had spent on the draggers, would I have already failed out here?” Scalloping is man killing work!
Turns out that being bent over a checker board ripping and gutting Cod and Haddock for 24 hours straight was not the hardest work I’d ever done after all, not by a long shot.
The next morning just before 8 bells I climbed aboard then went down forward and tossed all my gear in an empty rack the cook pointed out to me.
Thirty or forty minutes later the lines were thrown and we were underway Southbound, heading towards the horizon and the shear immensity of open ocean that lay beyond.
Nine of the eleven men onboard lived, slept, and ate in the Foc’sle which also included the galley and it was located one deck below the main deck down in the bow’s of the boat just forward of the Fish Hold. The Skipper and First Mate on most all of these Eastern Rigs bunked back aft behind the wheelhouse.
I had been in more than a few of these V shaped Foc’sle’s while searching for a site but this one washuge, The SEAFARER was big for a wooden trawler.
The Harvey Gamage Shipyard in Maine built all these beautiful boats which were by far, the finest Heavy Weather Wooden Beam Trawler’s constructed the on The East Coast!
Man oh man had I scored. I was on a High Liner. One of The Finest Kind at that!
Inside the Foc’sle there were 14 upper and lower bunks lining the outer hull down in this monster boat, all in rows with six bunks to Starboard and eight bunks to Port.
While stowing my gear and making up my rack I noticed all the bunks were lined with layers of cardboard against the hull.
With only three inches of oak plank between the bunks and the Winter Weather outside, this had to be for insulation. It didn’t take me long to cut up boxes the cook had left in a corner while he had been busy stowing a ton of grub away and he’d said that I could have and I quickly placed three layers of cardboard up against the hull in my bunk like the rest of the guys had done.
There was a huge and long V shaped table right in the middle of the Foc’sle just in front the ladder when looking forward that had collapsible edges and the bench seats that lined each side doubled as storage lockers with all the bunks above them.
Most of the cooks working area faced aft behind the ladder that led to the deck except for the huge flat top grill and oven that burned 2-oil the way an old furnace does with a carburetor. The Galley Stove also provided all the heat to warm the Foc’sle during the cold months and it was tucked in on the Starboard side but faced forward with four lockers between it and the first two double bunks that lined the hull.
There was also a reefer/freezer built into the bulkhead at the end of the long counter off to the right of the huge double sink.
On the side wall, not far forward from it sat one tiny porcelain sink and a small piece of broken mirror secured above it which I assumed was where all the guys shaved. Did these guys even shave at sea?
There was no doubt that every Foc’sle I’d been in on these Eastern Rigs had nearly the exact same layout no matter the size of the boat, just more or less of everything that was built into them.
Looking over toward the roaring galley stove I watched as the cook stringed long coils of different types of sausage on the 4 lines of heavy bailing wire that hung above and across the flat top grill there.
I could tell the first two coils that must have weighed 50 pounds each was the Portuguese sausage Linguica. The third coil was spicy Portuguese Chourico and the last coil was a Polish Kielbasa. Two hundred pounds of hanging meat. The cook who was named Steve saw me watching and said, “Best to give it a day and you can just cut hunks off anytime you want.”
Steve pointed around as he spoke.
“I got a big wheel of extra sharp cheddar in that locker there which I’ll be putting out and this one here has a quarter of our breads and rolls in it.”
I took a look and all the breads and rolls were either Portuguese or Italian and uncut!
OMG! My mouth was watering.
Then I really got a surprise when Steve fished around in one of the big lockers in front of the stove then dropped five cartons of Marlboro’s and three cartons of Pall Malls in front of me. Here’s your smokes.
“Do you smoke or do you sell ‘em back on the beach like I do?” he asked. “Ain’t it great we only pay *$3.00 a carton for them!”
Steve I learned, was a talker…..
*$3.00 a carton. Military people understand this well, they were tax exempt but Steve should not have passed them out before we were at least 3 miles outside any U.S. owned land according to the law.
He went on, “I can trade you some Kool’s for Marlboro if you want.” I shook my head no and just said thanks. This all seemed like common boat knowledge here but it was new to me so I just kept my mouth shut. Thoughts of thanks for the smokes and the heads up on how it all works ran through my brain as I grabbed myself a large paper cup of steaming hot black coffee.
This was high octane boiled boat coffee. When you reach the bottom of the pot you use a paper towel to catch the grinds as you pour.
Continued
Page 3
I decided to go up on deck so I grabbed a grey thermal lined hoody off my bunk to go sit up on the bow or WhaleBack as it is called to watch the the harbor go by.
As I climbed the ladder I heard the first sizzles from the drops of fat that began falling from the drying sausage that landed on the grill. Oh man, I couldn’t wait!
The nervous excitement in my gut and chest felt like it wanted to bust out and fly away!
Nervous? BS! I was freakin scared……in maybe twelve hours from now we’d be off New York and the truth would come out.
A few guys were hanging around on deck so I just kept my mouth shut as much possible and I just sat there pondering the sea slush still covering the inner harbor from this early January thaw as we sailed through the dike out onto the outer harbor and across Butler’s Flat. I was deep in thought with the fact that I was actually there and how this had all come to be and I remember just gazing at the lighthouse as it passed by to Stah’bid.
Swamp Yankee Boat Speak is a whole different language to most people outside the Northeast and away from it’s coast, a long developed language hard to understand for many of the locals as well.
A couple of guys who’s names I had yet to learn climbed up to join me and I tried to answer only direct questions but my stomach would twist hard when I had to bluff or toss the name of a boat out I’d never even set a boot on. At least during my time on the draggers I’d well learned my way around a boat so I could easy enough engage in conversation if I wanted to as long as I controlled or steered the subject.
For now it seemed my secret was still mine but I knew it was safer to avoid as much talk as I could.
Getting busted now would suck for sure since we were still so close to New Bedford, the Skipper could just turn the boat around if I got found out. Six more hours of steaming would make all the difference I thought, we’d be well out on open water by then.
Soon enough I felt the boat begin to surge from the light Sou’west swell entering Buzzard’s Bay.
I was so lucky that everything that needed doing was already done so I spent the steam bucking across the Bay against the rising swell to open water investigating and crawling all around the main deck of the boat.
Once or twice as I inspected everything I could I noticed the Skipper watching me with an odd look on his face but no words were spoken except when he yelled down, “You’re on the 6-12 watch with me.” “You’ll be hooking up on the port side for Old John”.
Without looking I just threw him a thumbs up as I bent to look under the winch and the raised grated platform just behind it that lay right up against the front of the wheelhouse.
In a couple of hours it came time for me to take wheel watch with the Skipper. I had been dreading this moment but I had tried to keep reminding myself that wheel watch was something I very well knew how to do already. I just needed to keep my mouth shut as best I could, but once again I caught Jimmy just quietly looking at me now and then as I gazed out one of the windows. He knew something was up alright but he never said a word.
For the next three hours Jimmy never even asked a question about or brought up scalloping at all and since I could well enough talk about fishing, navigation, areas offshore, and boats in general Etc. we did talk but still, there was something unspoken going on in the Skipper’s head. I could just feel it.
My gut told me I was already in doubt with him and that he was testing me in some odd way I’d yet to figure out.
Skipper’s are NOT stupid people! Some deckhands however, well……..
Early the next morning the cook woke the watch and I knew I HAD to eat but even with the mugs of coffee I was downing I could barely choke down a mouthful of food my mouth was so dry.
The bell on the front of the wheel house started clanging hard and fast. Here we go I thought, time to go face the music.
According to union rules, from the moment we started fishing the drags had to be secured back on the rail once again for us to begin wash down and we’d begin our homeward bound journey back to the ‘real world’.
These next eight days were going to be pure hell for me, I was sure of it and I was not wrong.
I actually felt like I was gonna hurl but I’d bought in, hook, line, and sinker. It was way too late now!
The five guys on the watch were myself Ron, Doug, Jimmy the Skipper, and Jerry and Old John who would run the winches. It would be Doug and me handling the gear as it came on and off the boat every 30-35 minutes or so.
I was in for an butt kicking and I knew it. Not by the guys, it really wasn’t fear of them that kept me awake during the steam out, it was the work, the unknown.
Once the four of us had piled out on deck from the galley the Skipper engaged the hydraulics then reached out to pull on the finely braided cording that someone had made for it and rang the bell again to signal, Let’s Go Fishin.
That *bell, one required by law to be on all these boats could just as easily been someone yelling instructions but these guys knew what the ringing of the bell meant by what was happening on deck and the bell was a signal to do the next thing that needed to happen on deck.
A *bell was a throwback from the age of sail and days of old. If you’ve ever seen the black and white 1937 movie, Captains Courageous starring Spencer Tracy you’ll understand. If you haven’t watched it I highly recommend you do!
Jerry and Old John hurried behind the winch as I just stood by the main-mast. When Doug yelled over, “any time” I just clapped my hands together as loud as I could and yelled, “OK, what do we do?” It was the only thing I could think of doing, my guts were tied in a knot. Time stopped!
Four guys just stood there with their mouths hanging open staring at me for half a minute then the Skipper broke the ice as he yelled out, “Put the Shacker to work” then he leaned further out the starboard window and reaching down he banged real hard on it’s front bulkhead with his fist and yelled again, “AND I MEAN TEACH HIM”. These last words were bellowed at the top of his lungs and his face was a bright purplish red as he rang the bell one more time then pulled the window up and got on with his wheel house work. The three guys on deck looked like they wanted to kill me!
Especially Old John who was mad as a shaken hornet having been stuck working with this “Shacker” and having me as his Dorymate for at least 12 hours a day over the next 8 days.
I could almost smell the hate in the sweaty steam that was boiling off the old guys nearly bald head.
Lucky for me all the experience I already had working the draggers made much of the work handling the gear more like “monkey see, monkey do” for me. Handling the cargo hook and the chains on the drag was not rocket science so I kept one eye on Doug.
After a half dozen tows I knew I’d have the gear handling down so that was good but I knew virtually nothing of what all the scallop drags parts were called.
On a dragger I knew every inch of the massive nets we used so I kept my eyes and ears well and truly open, something you had to absolutely do on the deck of any fishing boat anyway. 100% situational awareness at all times!
Continued
I decided to go up on deck so I grabbed a grey thermal lined hoody off my bunk to go sit up on the bow or WhaleBack as it is called to watch the the harbor go by.
As I climbed the ladder I heard the first sizzles from the drops of fat that began falling from the drying sausage that landed on the grill. Oh man, I couldn’t wait!
The nervous excitement in my gut and chest felt like it wanted to bust out and fly away!
Nervous? BS! I was freakin scared……in maybe twelve hours from now we’d be off New York and the truth would come out.
A few guys were hanging around on deck so I just kept my mouth shut as much possible and I just sat there pondering the sea slush still covering the inner harbor from this early January thaw as we sailed through the dike out onto the outer harbor and across Butler’s Flat. I was deep in thought with the fact that I was actually there and how this had all come to be and I remember just gazing at the lighthouse as it passed by to Stah’bid.
Swamp Yankee Boat Speak is a whole different language to most people outside the Northeast and away from it’s coast, a long developed language hard to understand for many of the locals as well.
A couple of guys who’s names I had yet to learn climbed up to join me and I tried to answer only direct questions but my stomach would twist hard when I had to bluff or toss the name of a boat out I’d never even set a boot on. At least during my time on the draggers I’d well learned my way around a boat so I could easy enough engage in conversation if I wanted to as long as I controlled or steered the subject.
For now it seemed my secret was still mine but I knew it was safer to avoid as much talk as I could.
Getting busted now would suck for sure since we were still so close to New Bedford, the Skipper could just turn the boat around if I got found out. Six more hours of steaming would make all the difference I thought, we’d be well out on open water by then.
Soon enough I felt the boat begin to surge from the light Sou’west swell entering Buzzard’s Bay.
I was so lucky that everything that needed doing was already done so I spent the steam bucking across the Bay against the rising swell to open water investigating and crawling all around the main deck of the boat.
Once or twice as I inspected everything I could I noticed the Skipper watching me with an odd look on his face but no words were spoken except when he yelled down, “You’re on the 6-12 watch with me.” “You’ll be hooking up on the port side for Old John”.
Without looking I just threw him a thumbs up as I bent to look under the winch and the raised grated platform just behind it that lay right up against the front of the wheelhouse.
In a couple of hours it came time for me to take wheel watch with the Skipper. I had been dreading this moment but I had tried to keep reminding myself that wheel watch was something I very well knew how to do already. I just needed to keep my mouth shut as best I could, but once again I caught Jimmy just quietly looking at me now and then as I gazed out one of the windows. He knew something was up alright but he never said a word.
For the next three hours Jimmy never even asked a question about or brought up scalloping at all and since I could well enough talk about fishing, navigation, areas offshore, and boats in general Etc. we did talk but still, there was something unspoken going on in the Skipper’s head. I could just feel it.
My gut told me I was already in doubt with him and that he was testing me in some odd way I’d yet to figure out.
Skipper’s are NOT stupid people! Some deckhands however, well……..
Early the next morning the cook woke the watch and I knew I HAD to eat but even with the mugs of coffee I was downing I could barely choke down a mouthful of food my mouth was so dry.
The bell on the front of the wheel house started clanging hard and fast. Here we go I thought, time to go face the music.
According to union rules, from the moment we started fishing the drags had to be secured back on the rail once again for us to begin wash down and we’d begin our homeward bound journey back to the ‘real world’.
These next eight days were going to be pure hell for me, I was sure of it and I was not wrong.
I actually felt like I was gonna hurl but I’d bought in, hook, line, and sinker. It was way too late now!
The five guys on the watch were myself Ron, Doug, Jimmy the Skipper, and Jerry and Old John who would run the winches. It would be Doug and me handling the gear as it came on and off the boat every 30-35 minutes or so.
I was in for an butt kicking and I knew it. Not by the guys, it really wasn’t fear of them that kept me awake during the steam out, it was the work, the unknown.
Once the four of us had piled out on deck from the galley the Skipper engaged the hydraulics then reached out to pull on the finely braided cording that someone had made for it and rang the bell again to signal, Let’s Go Fishin.
That *bell, one required by law to be on all these boats could just as easily been someone yelling instructions but these guys knew what the ringing of the bell meant by what was happening on deck and the bell was a signal to do the next thing that needed to happen on deck.
A *bell was a throwback from the age of sail and days of old. If you’ve ever seen the black and white 1937 movie, Captains Courageous starring Spencer Tracy you’ll understand. If you haven’t watched it I highly recommend you do!
Jerry and Old John hurried behind the winch as I just stood by the main-mast. When Doug yelled over, “any time” I just clapped my hands together as loud as I could and yelled, “OK, what do we do?” It was the only thing I could think of doing, my guts were tied in a knot. Time stopped!
Four guys just stood there with their mouths hanging open staring at me for half a minute then the Skipper broke the ice as he yelled out, “Put the Shacker to work” then he leaned further out the starboard window and reaching down he banged real hard on it’s front bulkhead with his fist and yelled again, “AND I MEAN TEACH HIM”. These last words were bellowed at the top of his lungs and his face was a bright purplish red as he rang the bell one more time then pulled the window up and got on with his wheel house work. The three guys on deck looked like they wanted to kill me!
Especially Old John who was mad as a shaken hornet having been stuck working with this “Shacker” and having me as his Dorymate for at least 12 hours a day over the next 8 days.
I could almost smell the hate in the sweaty steam that was boiling off the old guys nearly bald head.
Lucky for me all the experience I already had working the draggers made much of the work handling the gear more like “monkey see, monkey do” for me. Handling the cargo hook and the chains on the drag was not rocket science so I kept one eye on Doug.
After a half dozen tows I knew I’d have the gear handling down so that was good but I knew virtually nothing of what all the scallop drags parts were called.
On a dragger I knew every inch of the massive nets we used so I kept my eyes and ears well and truly open, something you had to absolutely do on the deck of any fishing boat anyway. 100% situational awareness at all times!
Continued
Page 4
Doug, the other hook-up man was, as it turned out, a really nice guy as was Jerry but they were still well beyond angry. They all were and rightfully so because they thought I had lied my way on the boat.
Technically this was splitting hairs in my mind but I just kept my mouth shut, for now.
When the drags had finally dropped off the rail after much more yelling, swearing and finger pointing at me it only took a couple of minutes for them to reach bottom. While they were paying out I was counting the marks as they went by on the port while the drags were racing away into the darkness below.
Eleven marks, 110 fathom or 660 feet of wire went out. That meant we we working in about 160-180 feet of water when using the standard 4-1 ratio of wire length to water depth that I was used to using on the draggers and the seas were only about 3 feet from the South. Something felt off though. I was not sure what I was sensing at the time.
Now things started in earnest with the other three deckhands after the drum brakes were secured and we began towing.
I had made sure to not be near the rail and I was immediately ringed by three furious men so I just stood there and listened, ready to protect myself need be as they vented their rage at me. My initial rush of fear was now gone so I answered real questions honestly and made sure to apologize after explaining how I came to be on the boat but I also let it be known I was not sorry I was there.
That seemed to calm Jerry and Doug laughed his butt off but what really infuriated Old John further was when I told them that they could dump me when they got back to the beach but I wasn’t gonna quit and that by then I’d have at least one trip under my belt and that I’d just get another site somewhere else and they that could all bet on it.
Old John’s face was as red as a steamed lobster as he stormed off forward to the galley turning the grey sky blue with his swearing and ranting.
Jerry and Doug seemed to settle down a bit more when John left and it was then that they calmly started with questions for me. I had expected a lot more rage to vent but neither of them had ever worked on a dragger and they sure seemed curious about it
One question rocked me for a moment. Jerry asked if I could fix tears in the ten foot by twelve foot nets made from a thick orange poly twine tied in on the back of the drags, the twine top.
Both he and Doug stood with mouths kinda agape as I answered, “If you give me some balls of that orange twine with a big enough needle and the nets full dimensions I’ll make some for you”.
They didn’t see that coming!
Immediately Doug said, “You’re the twine top man this trip Shacker, pray your not full of crap”!
I just gave them a weak smile and said, “You’ll see guys, I’m here to work and learn”!
Jerry came back with, “Well, when those drags are back at the gallows in thirty minutes that work is sure going to start, we’ll see what you’re made of soon enough Shacker”.
With that they both headed for the galley down forward with a couple of backward glances that still showed a lot of anger.
Not feeling invited or wanted for that matter I found things to do like cleaning up what little mess there was left on the deck until I heard the bell ring again and the guys came piling out of the galley.
As Jerry trotted by me heading for the winch he yelled, “Why isn’t the winch hauling back yet Shacker?” Jerry knew darn well why, school was in full session now. Here we go!
When the drags came surging out of the water maybe seven or eight later and mine was hanging under the gallows block it just figured that my drag on the port side had to be hanging there backwards against the rail on the first tow which meant more yelling, swearing and name calling as they screamed at me while pointing out at the heavy chain and hook I needed to use and where to put it to get the drag to swing around to the proper position it needed to be in to be hauled it aboard.
If Doug had just run and over and showed me what to do instead of just standing there screaming while he waited for his drag to hit the deck, because his drag hadn’t needed turning, it would have taken maybe a quarter of the time that it actually it took to get the job done. Real smart Doug……Geeeez!
And here I had thought every fisherman knew that every single minute the gear was not on the bottom fishing were minutes we could never ever get back and those lost minutes meant lost catch.
I remember seeing the Skipper shaking his head while that ridiculous circus was going on. At that time he was probably thinking the same thing I did when I thought about it later on but he had never said a word. However, the next time he pulled up that window he slammed it home.
I do believe he slammed it to make all four of us maybe think about what just happened.
Of course if I wasn’t a Shacker who lied his way on the boat but rather, a full share man, none of it would have happened, right? They had just showed me something that for me was huge. For four experienced fishermen, they sure seemed to be slow thinkers.
Yelling made more sense than acting. OK then…..
There was one thing these guys were going quickly discover. I only had to be shown something once, period, but go on, keep yelling, whatever. Who was figuring who out right then?
So my drag finally got dumped and with more swearing and yelling of Shacker this and Shacker that, especially from Doug who was just standing there hollering insults again the drags got back on the rail.
The bell rang and once more Shacker this and Shacker that, name calling and laughter while I waited as instructed until the boat had rolled back my way. When it reached the bottom of the roll I whacked the pelican hook that held it in place with a shorthandled three pound sledge and the drag fell off the rail and was once again heading for the bottom. It all happened quick enough, quicker than I think any of them expected even with all the unnecessary crap that went on.
Professionals? They felt more like angry children throwing temper tantrums…..LOL!
In truth they did have one thing over me.
For the time being, I really knew nothing about Scalloping!
The drags were dumped and gone and the piles of the greenish brown sand dollars that lay on each side of the deck were huge!
The Skipper had been hanging out his starboard window again watching me like a hawk but he never said a single word.
Those piles reached the top of the rail and were 14 feet wide or more and they extended out from the rails no less than six feet.
Mixed in it all were more scallops than I had ever seen before and I was also surprised at how much fish I could see just along the top and edges of the piles, especially the Monkfish, and there were plenty of huge ones.
Doug was the quickest filling his first wire basket over on the starboard rail and he picked it up and ran by Jerry into the starboard cutting box to dump it. Jerry was next and he yelled out, step it up Shacker as he ran aft with his full basket. Step it up I did!
Soon after, I grabbed mine and I could see that Old John was smoking hot crazy angry as I ran by him into the box holding a heaping basket of scallops right out in front of me.
Continued
Doug, the other hook-up man was, as it turned out, a really nice guy as was Jerry but they were still well beyond angry. They all were and rightfully so because they thought I had lied my way on the boat.
Technically this was splitting hairs in my mind but I just kept my mouth shut, for now.
When the drags had finally dropped off the rail after much more yelling, swearing and finger pointing at me it only took a couple of minutes for them to reach bottom. While they were paying out I was counting the marks as they went by on the port while the drags were racing away into the darkness below.
Eleven marks, 110 fathom or 660 feet of wire went out. That meant we we working in about 160-180 feet of water when using the standard 4-1 ratio of wire length to water depth that I was used to using on the draggers and the seas were only about 3 feet from the South. Something felt off though. I was not sure what I was sensing at the time.
Now things started in earnest with the other three deckhands after the drum brakes were secured and we began towing.
I had made sure to not be near the rail and I was immediately ringed by three furious men so I just stood there and listened, ready to protect myself need be as they vented their rage at me. My initial rush of fear was now gone so I answered real questions honestly and made sure to apologize after explaining how I came to be on the boat but I also let it be known I was not sorry I was there.
That seemed to calm Jerry and Doug laughed his butt off but what really infuriated Old John further was when I told them that they could dump me when they got back to the beach but I wasn’t gonna quit and that by then I’d have at least one trip under my belt and that I’d just get another site somewhere else and they that could all bet on it.
Old John’s face was as red as a steamed lobster as he stormed off forward to the galley turning the grey sky blue with his swearing and ranting.
Jerry and Doug seemed to settle down a bit more when John left and it was then that they calmly started with questions for me. I had expected a lot more rage to vent but neither of them had ever worked on a dragger and they sure seemed curious about it
One question rocked me for a moment. Jerry asked if I could fix tears in the ten foot by twelve foot nets made from a thick orange poly twine tied in on the back of the drags, the twine top.
Both he and Doug stood with mouths kinda agape as I answered, “If you give me some balls of that orange twine with a big enough needle and the nets full dimensions I’ll make some for you”.
They didn’t see that coming!
Immediately Doug said, “You’re the twine top man this trip Shacker, pray your not full of crap”!
I just gave them a weak smile and said, “You’ll see guys, I’m here to work and learn”!
Jerry came back with, “Well, when those drags are back at the gallows in thirty minutes that work is sure going to start, we’ll see what you’re made of soon enough Shacker”.
With that they both headed for the galley down forward with a couple of backward glances that still showed a lot of anger.
Not feeling invited or wanted for that matter I found things to do like cleaning up what little mess there was left on the deck until I heard the bell ring again and the guys came piling out of the galley.
As Jerry trotted by me heading for the winch he yelled, “Why isn’t the winch hauling back yet Shacker?” Jerry knew darn well why, school was in full session now. Here we go!
When the drags came surging out of the water maybe seven or eight later and mine was hanging under the gallows block it just figured that my drag on the port side had to be hanging there backwards against the rail on the first tow which meant more yelling, swearing and name calling as they screamed at me while pointing out at the heavy chain and hook I needed to use and where to put it to get the drag to swing around to the proper position it needed to be in to be hauled it aboard.
If Doug had just run and over and showed me what to do instead of just standing there screaming while he waited for his drag to hit the deck, because his drag hadn’t needed turning, it would have taken maybe a quarter of the time that it actually it took to get the job done. Real smart Doug……Geeeez!
And here I had thought every fisherman knew that every single minute the gear was not on the bottom fishing were minutes we could never ever get back and those lost minutes meant lost catch.
I remember seeing the Skipper shaking his head while that ridiculous circus was going on. At that time he was probably thinking the same thing I did when I thought about it later on but he had never said a word. However, the next time he pulled up that window he slammed it home.
I do believe he slammed it to make all four of us maybe think about what just happened.
Of course if I wasn’t a Shacker who lied his way on the boat but rather, a full share man, none of it would have happened, right? They had just showed me something that for me was huge. For four experienced fishermen, they sure seemed to be slow thinkers.
Yelling made more sense than acting. OK then…..
There was one thing these guys were going quickly discover. I only had to be shown something once, period, but go on, keep yelling, whatever. Who was figuring who out right then?
So my drag finally got dumped and with more swearing and yelling of Shacker this and Shacker that, especially from Doug who was just standing there hollering insults again the drags got back on the rail.
The bell rang and once more Shacker this and Shacker that, name calling and laughter while I waited as instructed until the boat had rolled back my way. When it reached the bottom of the roll I whacked the pelican hook that held it in place with a shorthandled three pound sledge and the drag fell off the rail and was once again heading for the bottom. It all happened quick enough, quicker than I think any of them expected even with all the unnecessary crap that went on.
Professionals? They felt more like angry children throwing temper tantrums…..LOL!
In truth they did have one thing over me.
For the time being, I really knew nothing about Scalloping!
The drags were dumped and gone and the piles of the greenish brown sand dollars that lay on each side of the deck were huge!
The Skipper had been hanging out his starboard window again watching me like a hawk but he never said a single word.
Those piles reached the top of the rail and were 14 feet wide or more and they extended out from the rails no less than six feet.
Mixed in it all were more scallops than I had ever seen before and I was also surprised at how much fish I could see just along the top and edges of the piles, especially the Monkfish, and there were plenty of huge ones.
Doug was the quickest filling his first wire basket over on the starboard rail and he picked it up and ran by Jerry into the starboard cutting box to dump it. Jerry was next and he yelled out, step it up Shacker as he ran aft with his full basket. Step it up I did!
Soon after, I grabbed mine and I could see that Old John was smoking hot crazy angry as I ran by him into the box holding a heaping basket of scallops right out in front of me.
Continued
Page 5
John was still bent over with his elbows lower than his butt topping off the bushel basket between his legs. He’d never keep up with guys in their teens and earlier twenty’s. I remember thinking, getting old must really suck. Yeah, about that…….LOL, but not really.
Twenty two bushels of scallops and about 100 fish came aboard that first tow, thirteen bushels on our, the Port side and nine bushels on the Starboard. Jerry offhandedly said, “No matter what we do with the gear the Port side always out fishes the Starboard”.
Ah-ha I thought and spoke up, “Are the fathom markers on the tow wires even”? For the first time Old John looked at me without that red faced rage but with both of his big, bushy grey eyebrows arched up. The rest of his head barely held more hair than those wild sun screens over his eyes.
I saw all three of them glance at the tow cables and Jerry looked up at the wheelhouse where Jimmy was hanging out the window, he’d heard what I said. Immediately the Skipper yelled down, “You three go cut, the Shacker shovels both sides”.
The other three deckhands were laughing their rear ends off as as they trotted off to cut and as I reached into a checker box for a short handled flat face shovel I heard Jerry from inside the starboard box, “He won’t be done before haul back”.
Fifteen minutes later I ran into the Port box ready to start shucking scallops but it wasn’t gonna happen, not yet anyway.
The mate Josh, who had yet to say word one to me came into the box from back aft to tell Old John they were going to measure the wires next haul back and then he kinda grumbled at me, “go deal with the Monkfish”. When I asked, “Are we saving the livers and sizing the tails” the Mate seemed a bit confused. “NO” he barked, “Just go cut and clean the fish” and as he squeezed by me with a shove he grumbled loudly, “And stay the hell out of my engine room too” then he just disappeared forward.
As I left the box I heard Old John mumble, “only a dragger man would ask such a stupid question”.
All the fish we caught was sold for cash money or “Shack” as it was known aboard the boats which the crew shared up evenly on the side and it was also the money that the Shackers were paid from.
Even the boat only took one equal share of the shack money the same as the whole crew and not 40% right off the top like it got from the sale of the scallops.
For his first trip a Shacker’s pay might be five or six hundred dollars so for each guy to pay $50.00 from his shack money to have a GoFuh on the boat for ten days was a really good deal!!!!!
Jimmy and Old John measured the main wires the old school way by counting how many full spreads of their arms and hands were needed from the face of the winch drum the Bull Rings on the tip of the drags.
Josh said they would be measuring during haul back and it was cool to watch two Old Salts perform their magic.
The marks were off on the starboard wire, the side that didn’t catch as much. The starboard winch was paying out 12 fathoms more wire than the port side.
I could hear Jimmy as he loudly cursed Bruce’s Rigging while he and Old John had fixed the marks.
No one said a single word to me about it but I had no questions either, which I could tell was aggravating Old John! I knew what had happened.
Bruce’s Rigging had screwed up the last time they put a new eye splice on the end of the tow wires through the drags bull rings.
My being a Shacker and Draggerman meant in John’s Old head that I knew nothing about anything on this boat.
So ok, remember the mate grumbling at me to just go cut the fish?
As far as the Monkfish and wether or not we saved livers or not was soon answered and the joke was on Old John who had mumbled, “only a dragger man would ask such a stupid question” as well as Jerry and Doug who had said to me it was BS and they got a good shock because as it turned out, I did know something they didn’t and the very next watch that thing was exactly what they found me doing, carefully cutting out the Monkfish livers and sizing the tails into baskets.
The scallops had been washed and bagged up at the end of our next watch and the Skipper came on deck to look over the results of what I had done with the fish before it went below for icing.
The mate had mentioned my question to him about the fish to Jimmy and at the end of the last watch and he had called me up to the wheelhouse. OK, he said, “what’s this about, saving livers and sizing tails”?
I explained what we did on the draggers and that I just assumed they’d be doing it too.
Turned out a great secret had somehow had been kept from most of the Scalloper’s and any that did know weren’t talking! All fishermen want to keep prices high and the more boats that did what we were now doing would surely have an affect on supply and demand driving prices down to some degree. Some boats, the draggers mostly had been onto a gold mine.
Just like most scallopers Jimmie had still been in the dark about what I knew but I sure let the cat outta the bag for him.
It had only been about three maybe four months earlier that a Japanese company had started quietly paying the draggers up to $4.00 a pound for the cleanest un-bruised, un-nicked Monkfish livers through this one Fish House and by sizing the Monkfish tales you could near double the money you got for them too.
I also knew the owner of that one house that was buying the livers really well.
I had been in high school with his son Mark and the two of us used to dig Quahogs together during the summer which we sold to his dad.
Not only that but I’d already unloaded there a bunch of times on the draggers as well.
Virgil would trust but verify what I told him by inspecting the hold after we’d spoken with him.
I knew what I was doing and I knew that Virgil knew it so I figured there was a better than 95% chance he would buy the whole trip
I was also well aware that passing this info to Jimmie was huge and it was going to help me big-time in the long run with the Scallop Fleet but it was going to really piss off the Draggermen when they found out about it. Egger tossing pukes….. go pound sand!
Fishing is a cut-throat business, make no mistake!
I also told Jimmy that if he let me teach the other guys how to get the livers out right and how to store them and to also let me teach them to cut the Monks better and let me take care of the all the fish in the hold everyone was going to make a lot more money. We were catching a crazy amount of Monkfish and the guys were doing a piss-poor job of cutting them, loosing 20% or more meat from each fish. I should have worded that better while talking to the skipper because that’s exactly how he said it to the gang and boy oh boy were they pissed at me again. That would change once we settled up at trips end though, LOL!
Continued
John was still bent over with his elbows lower than his butt topping off the bushel basket between his legs. He’d never keep up with guys in their teens and earlier twenty’s. I remember thinking, getting old must really suck. Yeah, about that…….LOL, but not really.
Twenty two bushels of scallops and about 100 fish came aboard that first tow, thirteen bushels on our, the Port side and nine bushels on the Starboard. Jerry offhandedly said, “No matter what we do with the gear the Port side always out fishes the Starboard”.
Ah-ha I thought and spoke up, “Are the fathom markers on the tow wires even”? For the first time Old John looked at me without that red faced rage but with both of his big, bushy grey eyebrows arched up. The rest of his head barely held more hair than those wild sun screens over his eyes.
I saw all three of them glance at the tow cables and Jerry looked up at the wheelhouse where Jimmy was hanging out the window, he’d heard what I said. Immediately the Skipper yelled down, “You three go cut, the Shacker shovels both sides”.
The other three deckhands were laughing their rear ends off as as they trotted off to cut and as I reached into a checker box for a short handled flat face shovel I heard Jerry from inside the starboard box, “He won’t be done before haul back”.
Fifteen minutes later I ran into the Port box ready to start shucking scallops but it wasn’t gonna happen, not yet anyway.
The mate Josh, who had yet to say word one to me came into the box from back aft to tell Old John they were going to measure the wires next haul back and then he kinda grumbled at me, “go deal with the Monkfish”. When I asked, “Are we saving the livers and sizing the tails” the Mate seemed a bit confused. “NO” he barked, “Just go cut and clean the fish” and as he squeezed by me with a shove he grumbled loudly, “And stay the hell out of my engine room too” then he just disappeared forward.
As I left the box I heard Old John mumble, “only a dragger man would ask such a stupid question”.
All the fish we caught was sold for cash money or “Shack” as it was known aboard the boats which the crew shared up evenly on the side and it was also the money that the Shackers were paid from.
Even the boat only took one equal share of the shack money the same as the whole crew and not 40% right off the top like it got from the sale of the scallops.
For his first trip a Shacker’s pay might be five or six hundred dollars so for each guy to pay $50.00 from his shack money to have a GoFuh on the boat for ten days was a really good deal!!!!!
Jimmy and Old John measured the main wires the old school way by counting how many full spreads of their arms and hands were needed from the face of the winch drum the Bull Rings on the tip of the drags.
Josh said they would be measuring during haul back and it was cool to watch two Old Salts perform their magic.
The marks were off on the starboard wire, the side that didn’t catch as much. The starboard winch was paying out 12 fathoms more wire than the port side.
I could hear Jimmy as he loudly cursed Bruce’s Rigging while he and Old John had fixed the marks.
No one said a single word to me about it but I had no questions either, which I could tell was aggravating Old John! I knew what had happened.
Bruce’s Rigging had screwed up the last time they put a new eye splice on the end of the tow wires through the drags bull rings.
My being a Shacker and Draggerman meant in John’s Old head that I knew nothing about anything on this boat.
So ok, remember the mate grumbling at me to just go cut the fish?
As far as the Monkfish and wether or not we saved livers or not was soon answered and the joke was on Old John who had mumbled, “only a dragger man would ask such a stupid question” as well as Jerry and Doug who had said to me it was BS and they got a good shock because as it turned out, I did know something they didn’t and the very next watch that thing was exactly what they found me doing, carefully cutting out the Monkfish livers and sizing the tails into baskets.
The scallops had been washed and bagged up at the end of our next watch and the Skipper came on deck to look over the results of what I had done with the fish before it went below for icing.
The mate had mentioned my question to him about the fish to Jimmy and at the end of the last watch and he had called me up to the wheelhouse. OK, he said, “what’s this about, saving livers and sizing tails”?
I explained what we did on the draggers and that I just assumed they’d be doing it too.
Turned out a great secret had somehow had been kept from most of the Scalloper’s and any that did know weren’t talking! All fishermen want to keep prices high and the more boats that did what we were now doing would surely have an affect on supply and demand driving prices down to some degree. Some boats, the draggers mostly had been onto a gold mine.
Just like most scallopers Jimmie had still been in the dark about what I knew but I sure let the cat outta the bag for him.
It had only been about three maybe four months earlier that a Japanese company had started quietly paying the draggers up to $4.00 a pound for the cleanest un-bruised, un-nicked Monkfish livers through this one Fish House and by sizing the Monkfish tales you could near double the money you got for them too.
I also knew the owner of that one house that was buying the livers really well.
I had been in high school with his son Mark and the two of us used to dig Quahogs together during the summer which we sold to his dad.
Not only that but I’d already unloaded there a bunch of times on the draggers as well.
Virgil would trust but verify what I told him by inspecting the hold after we’d spoken with him.
I knew what I was doing and I knew that Virgil knew it so I figured there was a better than 95% chance he would buy the whole trip
I was also well aware that passing this info to Jimmie was huge and it was going to help me big-time in the long run with the Scallop Fleet but it was going to really piss off the Draggermen when they found out about it. Egger tossing pukes….. go pound sand!
Fishing is a cut-throat business, make no mistake!
I also told Jimmy that if he let me teach the other guys how to get the livers out right and how to store them and to also let me teach them to cut the Monks better and let me take care of the all the fish in the hold everyone was going to make a lot more money. We were catching a crazy amount of Monkfish and the guys were doing a piss-poor job of cutting them, loosing 20% or more meat from each fish. I should have worded that better while talking to the skipper because that’s exactly how he said it to the gang and boy oh boy were they pissed at me again. That would change once we settled up at trips end though, LOL!
Continued
Page 6
Even the draggers sold some of their fish as well as ALL the lobsters they brought in for cash money.
Five or six thousand pounds of lobster was some really big money and to get paid cash from all the Shack was huge money for everyone aboard them, especially since draggers only used a crew of six men not eleven men like the scallopers needed.
Now began the real grind for me so for the next two and a half days or for five watches all I did was shovel the trash piles from both sides overboard and deal with fish.
The shoveling was having it’s toll on me and I was barely able to get all the shoveling done by the time the drags were once again hanging by the rail. At first I was getting the shoveling done in 15 minutes.
Drags in, emptied, drags out, pick the pile then shovel both sides and whenever I had a single minute to spare I jumped on the fish.
This watch, the end of day four I think, technically ended at 13:00 but none of the watches ever ran only six hours for me. My watches were always more like seven and a half or even nine hours on deck before I actually got to leave and collapse into my bunk, often without taking a bite of food until I was forced back awake by the cook.
I was desperate for sleep! This watch had been a brutal one for me and my body felt broken.
This watch was also different though because it was the first time Jimmy had allowed me to go below to the galley at mid-watch which was called mug-up. Mug-up was a short refueling break for the guys and everyone devoured food and down coffee. Don’t get me wrong, someone always brought something up on deck for me to gobble and guzzle and gallons of spring water were everywhere around the deck and in the cutting boxes anyway but to be allowed to go below and sit for ten or fifteen minutes, this was new and I liked it!
Once all the fish and scallops had been washed it all got dropped into the hold through the after hatch which sat right in front of the winch for ice down.
I was down in the hold separating out the large or select Black Back Flounder from the baskets and laying them on their backs in nice even rows then carefully icing them down in single layers.
A shadow was suddenly cast down which caused me to look up and I caught the Skipper’s face scowling down at me. Seeing me notice him Jimmy barked, “how’s it going down there?”
(What? No Shacker this time I thought?)Then he swung a leg over and quickly ran down the ladder as I just kept working.
Jimmy wandered around for a couple of minutes looking things over then asked me why had I changed the set up of the pens and why was I laying the flounder like I was. I stopped what I was doing to look him in the eye as I explained. We’ve been catching a ton of Black Back Flounder for the last three watches and most of them are big doormats. We always lay flounder on their back but these should be stacked and lightly iced in single rows.
I guess when we talked about saving the livers and separating the tails I must have failed to fully explain what I meant about taking over the care of the fish down here. When I first got down here this last watch I figured I may as well separate out the flounders by size too because we have so many really nice
doormat flats coming aboard like I said.
For that I and the Monkfish and livers I needed four more pens to do it right and with the size of this fish hold that’s no problem so now I can ice them proper so we’ll get twice the money or more for them if we don’t sell to the nightriders, (the small box trucks that ran around buying shack off any boat they could get it from). “Sorry I didn’t talk to about it first Skipper but I looked upon it as just normal routine”.
The Skipper didn’t say a word so I continued.
If we talk to Virgil at Hurricane Fish before the auction he’ll have us come to his place to unload not only the fish but he’ll buy the whole trip and pay us at least 15 cents more a pound for the Scallops because we now are short bagging the the meats like you agreed to try and like I said before the the bags won’t swell up so bad and get squeezed. I told him “I’ve known Virgil personally for years, Skipper”.
The weights not gonna change but the meats end up a lot better and that’s more money for all of us.
I looked down and hesitated so Jim said, “and”?
“Well I said softly, the other watch could be getting more livers outta their Monks because they hurry and nick the outer membranes and I gotta straighten this place out every time I come down here, bags and all but I don’t much mind the work since making sure it’s all getting done right pays in the end”.
Jimmie reached out and slapped me on the back, “that’ll be changing, I knew you were a smart boy”.
He followed that up with, “So much for my deck bosses doing there jobs huh”.
He just stood there as I went silent and I just looked around as if I was surveying the hold.
What the hell? My mind was reeling, that last bit he’d said to me blew me out of the water. No way would I be repeating those words, that’s for damn sure.
Then it hit me, he’s testing me to see if I run my mouth!
I looked over at him again and he got kind of serious and looked deeply into my eyes as he asked, “how long do you think you can keep shoveling”?
Without hesitation came my words, “until I drop”.
The smile that spread across his face, I’ll never forget it.
“Your shoveling both sides is over, next watch I’m teaching you how to cut so listen up, the whole crew thinks you’re full of it with this fish and bag thing but I know different so just keep your mouth shut and keep working”. Without another word he climbed the ladder and I just finished my work in the hold but in truth, I was really glad to be alone right then because I teared up a bit.
I was being excepted, at least by the guy who mattered. I was on top of the world again!
When I climbed out maybe fifteen minutes later sweating like a pig even with the chill of the hold I found Old John leaning against the port rail laughing and he giggled like a 5 year old as he asked, “how was the butt chewin”?
I didn’t look at him or make a sound but just walked forward to the doghouse which made him laugh even harder. I quickly shed my oilers and ran down the ladder to wolf down whatever smelled so good and stretch out flat In my rack.
I was finally looking at nearly four solid hours of sleep. So far the all the sleep I’d gotten was three hours on the first day then two hours twice a day since at most.
Now I might get be getting 3 1/2 or even more hours of sleep twice a day if I was real lucky.
Yeah, I was hanging in there, barely.
There was no part of my body that didn’t hurt, I even remember a strange question that came to mind as I began to fall into a sleep deprived coma, what in hells bells makes my cheeks hurt?
I was so pissed when I woke up almost an hour early because I needed to go up on deck to relieve myself. I knew getting back in my rack would be a mistake cause it would feel like only five minutes later Steve would be shaking me awake again so I just grabbed a porcelain mug that had no handle and poured myself a black coffee. The large paper cups were long gone already.
Continued
Even the draggers sold some of their fish as well as ALL the lobsters they brought in for cash money.
Five or six thousand pounds of lobster was some really big money and to get paid cash from all the Shack was huge money for everyone aboard them, especially since draggers only used a crew of six men not eleven men like the scallopers needed.
Now began the real grind for me so for the next two and a half days or for five watches all I did was shovel the trash piles from both sides overboard and deal with fish.
The shoveling was having it’s toll on me and I was barely able to get all the shoveling done by the time the drags were once again hanging by the rail. At first I was getting the shoveling done in 15 minutes.
Drags in, emptied, drags out, pick the pile then shovel both sides and whenever I had a single minute to spare I jumped on the fish.
This watch, the end of day four I think, technically ended at 13:00 but none of the watches ever ran only six hours for me. My watches were always more like seven and a half or even nine hours on deck before I actually got to leave and collapse into my bunk, often without taking a bite of food until I was forced back awake by the cook.
I was desperate for sleep! This watch had been a brutal one for me and my body felt broken.
This watch was also different though because it was the first time Jimmy had allowed me to go below to the galley at mid-watch which was called mug-up. Mug-up was a short refueling break for the guys and everyone devoured food and down coffee. Don’t get me wrong, someone always brought something up on deck for me to gobble and guzzle and gallons of spring water were everywhere around the deck and in the cutting boxes anyway but to be allowed to go below and sit for ten or fifteen minutes, this was new and I liked it!
Once all the fish and scallops had been washed it all got dropped into the hold through the after hatch which sat right in front of the winch for ice down.
I was down in the hold separating out the large or select Black Back Flounder from the baskets and laying them on their backs in nice even rows then carefully icing them down in single layers.
A shadow was suddenly cast down which caused me to look up and I caught the Skipper’s face scowling down at me. Seeing me notice him Jimmy barked, “how’s it going down there?”
(What? No Shacker this time I thought?)Then he swung a leg over and quickly ran down the ladder as I just kept working.
Jimmy wandered around for a couple of minutes looking things over then asked me why had I changed the set up of the pens and why was I laying the flounder like I was. I stopped what I was doing to look him in the eye as I explained. We’ve been catching a ton of Black Back Flounder for the last three watches and most of them are big doormats. We always lay flounder on their back but these should be stacked and lightly iced in single rows.
I guess when we talked about saving the livers and separating the tails I must have failed to fully explain what I meant about taking over the care of the fish down here. When I first got down here this last watch I figured I may as well separate out the flounders by size too because we have so many really nice
doormat flats coming aboard like I said.
For that I and the Monkfish and livers I needed four more pens to do it right and with the size of this fish hold that’s no problem so now I can ice them proper so we’ll get twice the money or more for them if we don’t sell to the nightriders, (the small box trucks that ran around buying shack off any boat they could get it from). “Sorry I didn’t talk to about it first Skipper but I looked upon it as just normal routine”.
The Skipper didn’t say a word so I continued.
If we talk to Virgil at Hurricane Fish before the auction he’ll have us come to his place to unload not only the fish but he’ll buy the whole trip and pay us at least 15 cents more a pound for the Scallops because we now are short bagging the the meats like you agreed to try and like I said before the the bags won’t swell up so bad and get squeezed. I told him “I’ve known Virgil personally for years, Skipper”.
The weights not gonna change but the meats end up a lot better and that’s more money for all of us.
I looked down and hesitated so Jim said, “and”?
“Well I said softly, the other watch could be getting more livers outta their Monks because they hurry and nick the outer membranes and I gotta straighten this place out every time I come down here, bags and all but I don’t much mind the work since making sure it’s all getting done right pays in the end”.
Jimmie reached out and slapped me on the back, “that’ll be changing, I knew you were a smart boy”.
He followed that up with, “So much for my deck bosses doing there jobs huh”.
He just stood there as I went silent and I just looked around as if I was surveying the hold.
What the hell? My mind was reeling, that last bit he’d said to me blew me out of the water. No way would I be repeating those words, that’s for damn sure.
Then it hit me, he’s testing me to see if I run my mouth!
I looked over at him again and he got kind of serious and looked deeply into my eyes as he asked, “how long do you think you can keep shoveling”?
Without hesitation came my words, “until I drop”.
The smile that spread across his face, I’ll never forget it.
“Your shoveling both sides is over, next watch I’m teaching you how to cut so listen up, the whole crew thinks you’re full of it with this fish and bag thing but I know different so just keep your mouth shut and keep working”. Without another word he climbed the ladder and I just finished my work in the hold but in truth, I was really glad to be alone right then because I teared up a bit.
I was being excepted, at least by the guy who mattered. I was on top of the world again!
When I climbed out maybe fifteen minutes later sweating like a pig even with the chill of the hold I found Old John leaning against the port rail laughing and he giggled like a 5 year old as he asked, “how was the butt chewin”?
I didn’t look at him or make a sound but just walked forward to the doghouse which made him laugh even harder. I quickly shed my oilers and ran down the ladder to wolf down whatever smelled so good and stretch out flat In my rack.
I was finally looking at nearly four solid hours of sleep. So far the all the sleep I’d gotten was three hours on the first day then two hours twice a day since at most.
Now I might get be getting 3 1/2 or even more hours of sleep twice a day if I was real lucky.
Yeah, I was hanging in there, barely.
There was no part of my body that didn’t hurt, I even remember a strange question that came to mind as I began to fall into a sleep deprived coma, what in hells bells makes my cheeks hurt?
I was so pissed when I woke up almost an hour early because I needed to go up on deck to relieve myself. I knew getting back in my rack would be a mistake cause it would feel like only five minutes later Steve would be shaking me awake again so I just grabbed a porcelain mug that had no handle and poured myself a black coffee. The large paper cups were long gone already.
Continued
Page 7
Turned out the coffee mugs on scallopers had no handles, none of them. No handles means no hanging them on hooks where they’d clank and bang around in sloppy weather driving everyone crazy. I poured myself another coffee and climbed the ladder to the doghouse right behind the mast and took a chance on sitting on the forward hatch.
I was sure the mate would holler down with something for me to do but nope, not a word.
BTW, The only time this forward hatch opened was to ice the hold before the trip then again for unloading the hold at trips end. We try to never leave a hatch off long at sea, the fog and humid salt air devours fresh water ice.
It was then I realized that I had not once scanned the entire horizon since before we’d started working. It was a grey overcast day and I knew there’d be fog that night for sure but at least it was flat calm, for now anyway.
The next day was New Years Eve and no, we’d not skip a beat and real hard weather could roll in at any time, I could sense a blow coming In my bones, I was right….
Thinking back through the trip again, sure, I’d seen a couple of boats that had passed by pretty close a few times but that was it. As I got up to walk to the rail that day to look around I quickly counted nine other boats off the starboard side all within 3-4 miles.
They were all going every which way. A few were handling gear but were most towing and I could see scallop shells flying out the windows of the cutting boxes on the boats closest to us. I shook my head as I realized what kind of nights this meant for the Skipper and Mate in the wheelhouse.
No wonder I never saw Jimmie go to the galley at the end of midnight watch, he was mentally exhausted so he just hit the rack that waited for him right behind the wheelhouse.
The mate slept below back aft in a pretty good sized room that was right behind the main engine and it had four bunks big bunks in and it’s called the Fidley.
I had only looked down there a couple of times but I sure was familiar with the main engine I saw just forward of it and a few steps lower.
The SeaFarer had a 399 Cat in her like the big draggers and I knew a whole lot about that engine already, I smiled to myself thinking, what will they think when they find out stuff like I can swap out the fuel filters on her or pump the bilges or dozens of others things on this boat?
In no way had I wasted my time on the draggers. I followed around and pestered every engineer to teach me stuff and let me help him.
Look at how my handling of the fish turned out, these guys had never seen anything like that done before. Dealing with the fish helped make it so I was going to start cutting scallops with the the rest of the gang now. For the time being I’d not say anything about any other stuff though until I knew I knew
I’d benefit from it in some way from it. I hadn’t mentioned I was a good welder either when I saw the other watch welding wear shoes on the heels of the drags. The bottom is one big grinder as far as the gear is concerned.
Basically I knew I still had everything to learn about Scalloping so I’d bide my time,
Things were definitely looking up though!
Lost in thought I was jolted back to the deck when Josh, the Mate/Engineer who most guys on the boat just called Chief was suddenly by my side. I just nodded my head out towards the nearest boat and that got Josh talking.
“Yeah we’re in the middle of at least fifteen boats right now, it never fails, they follow Tink around like puppies”.
“Tink”? I asked . “Yeah Jimmy, his last names Tinker but do yourself a favor and just call him Skipper”. “Oh, I already got that”, I quickly replied.
“I’ve heard Jimmy’s name more than a few times around the docks, word is he’s one of the best scallop Skipper’s on the East Coast”.
The Chief laughed, “Well that’s a fact but maybe you’ve never heard he’s also one of the fastest cutters ever known, he’s won near every cutting contest he’s entered from here to Nova Scotia we here he was born”.
Josh kept talking so I was all ears, “That’s what I want to give you a heads up on” he said.
“Jimmy is going to break you in cutting himself next watch”.
“I’m gonna stand a long watch so he can spend an hour or two in the box with you, he tells me he thinks you’re worth it.”
“Don’t rush trying to keep up with Old John once you get started either, he’s just a miserable old s*+% who knows his days out here are numbered, Jimmy will explain”. “Bye the way, your going to feel like your hands are falling off in a couple of days, it’s called the grip and not a man on this boat didn’t suffer through it when they started so just keep your mouth shut and suck it up, it’ll pass, in time”.
“Hey, the tides turning I gotta get back” Josh said excitedly. “Do me a favor, go grab me a black coffee and pass it through the starboard window but keep your mouth shut, a strange voice will rouse the Skipper.
Look back at what he said, I’d just been informed by the mate that I’d owe him one….LOL
The Chief ran aft through the cutting house so I went and got him his coffee. When I ran back and passed the Mate his personal, extra large and steaming mug he just nodded his head so I trotted back to the galley thinking, I gotta get one of those mugs at Ship Supply!
Steve, the cook had made a big stew from left over Prime Rib and had set out a mountain of bacon and all the fixings for BLT’s for noon meal on the galley table. I was starving!
I sat and after a minute OLD JOHN swung his leg over the weather board along his rack and “accidentally” kicked my shoulder.
I swear, he was a hateful, miserable old man and if he wasn’t such an old guy it would have be easy for me to bust his teeth if he sassed me back on the beach like he did out there.
One of my rules. Never ever fight on a boat unless I absolutely have no choice but to protect myself. Fighting got guys fired anyway, it’s not tolerated at sea, not at all and usually the one who started the fight, especially if it was a BS reason and the other guy got busted up, well that guy usually caught a beating back at the dock, and I mean a beating, one that would force him to stay ashore for a couple of trips.
Fishermen as a rule were no joke to mess with back then. Think about it, for a large part of every watch we normally shoveled rocks for a living most of the year not these sand dollars. Spend six months working the rock piles of Asia rip, you’ll understand.
Cookie was already clearing the table to make it ready for the next watch as we wrapped up eating.
The bell started clanging for watch change and the other gang would be piling down famished!
That’s when guys really eat, when coming off deck and especially for breakfast. Guys coming in for breakfast could easily eat a dozen eggs and a pound or more of bacon etc etc etc.
Breakfast was everyone favorite meal and the amount and kinds of food Steve cooked for it was something to behold.
I couldn’t wait till I was on a 12-6 watch so I could come in for breakfast rather than eat and go out on deck to immediately bend over to pick and shovel the first pile that was already up there on deck waiting for us. Nobody loaded up on food before going out on watch, only coming off watch.
Continued
Turned out the coffee mugs on scallopers had no handles, none of them. No handles means no hanging them on hooks where they’d clank and bang around in sloppy weather driving everyone crazy. I poured myself another coffee and climbed the ladder to the doghouse right behind the mast and took a chance on sitting on the forward hatch.
I was sure the mate would holler down with something for me to do but nope, not a word.
BTW, The only time this forward hatch opened was to ice the hold before the trip then again for unloading the hold at trips end. We try to never leave a hatch off long at sea, the fog and humid salt air devours fresh water ice.
It was then I realized that I had not once scanned the entire horizon since before we’d started working. It was a grey overcast day and I knew there’d be fog that night for sure but at least it was flat calm, for now anyway.
The next day was New Years Eve and no, we’d not skip a beat and real hard weather could roll in at any time, I could sense a blow coming In my bones, I was right….
Thinking back through the trip again, sure, I’d seen a couple of boats that had passed by pretty close a few times but that was it. As I got up to walk to the rail that day to look around I quickly counted nine other boats off the starboard side all within 3-4 miles.
They were all going every which way. A few were handling gear but were most towing and I could see scallop shells flying out the windows of the cutting boxes on the boats closest to us. I shook my head as I realized what kind of nights this meant for the Skipper and Mate in the wheelhouse.
No wonder I never saw Jimmie go to the galley at the end of midnight watch, he was mentally exhausted so he just hit the rack that waited for him right behind the wheelhouse.
The mate slept below back aft in a pretty good sized room that was right behind the main engine and it had four bunks big bunks in and it’s called the Fidley.
I had only looked down there a couple of times but I sure was familiar with the main engine I saw just forward of it and a few steps lower.
The SeaFarer had a 399 Cat in her like the big draggers and I knew a whole lot about that engine already, I smiled to myself thinking, what will they think when they find out stuff like I can swap out the fuel filters on her or pump the bilges or dozens of others things on this boat?
In no way had I wasted my time on the draggers. I followed around and pestered every engineer to teach me stuff and let me help him.
Look at how my handling of the fish turned out, these guys had never seen anything like that done before. Dealing with the fish helped make it so I was going to start cutting scallops with the the rest of the gang now. For the time being I’d not say anything about any other stuff though until I knew I knew
I’d benefit from it in some way from it. I hadn’t mentioned I was a good welder either when I saw the other watch welding wear shoes on the heels of the drags. The bottom is one big grinder as far as the gear is concerned.
Basically I knew I still had everything to learn about Scalloping so I’d bide my time,
Things were definitely looking up though!
Lost in thought I was jolted back to the deck when Josh, the Mate/Engineer who most guys on the boat just called Chief was suddenly by my side. I just nodded my head out towards the nearest boat and that got Josh talking.
“Yeah we’re in the middle of at least fifteen boats right now, it never fails, they follow Tink around like puppies”.
“Tink”? I asked . “Yeah Jimmy, his last names Tinker but do yourself a favor and just call him Skipper”. “Oh, I already got that”, I quickly replied.
“I’ve heard Jimmy’s name more than a few times around the docks, word is he’s one of the best scallop Skipper’s on the East Coast”.
The Chief laughed, “Well that’s a fact but maybe you’ve never heard he’s also one of the fastest cutters ever known, he’s won near every cutting contest he’s entered from here to Nova Scotia we here he was born”.
Josh kept talking so I was all ears, “That’s what I want to give you a heads up on” he said.
“Jimmy is going to break you in cutting himself next watch”.
“I’m gonna stand a long watch so he can spend an hour or two in the box with you, he tells me he thinks you’re worth it.”
“Don’t rush trying to keep up with Old John once you get started either, he’s just a miserable old s*+% who knows his days out here are numbered, Jimmy will explain”. “Bye the way, your going to feel like your hands are falling off in a couple of days, it’s called the grip and not a man on this boat didn’t suffer through it when they started so just keep your mouth shut and suck it up, it’ll pass, in time”.
“Hey, the tides turning I gotta get back” Josh said excitedly. “Do me a favor, go grab me a black coffee and pass it through the starboard window but keep your mouth shut, a strange voice will rouse the Skipper.
Look back at what he said, I’d just been informed by the mate that I’d owe him one….LOL
The Chief ran aft through the cutting house so I went and got him his coffee. When I ran back and passed the Mate his personal, extra large and steaming mug he just nodded his head so I trotted back to the galley thinking, I gotta get one of those mugs at Ship Supply!
Steve, the cook had made a big stew from left over Prime Rib and had set out a mountain of bacon and all the fixings for BLT’s for noon meal on the galley table. I was starving!
I sat and after a minute OLD JOHN swung his leg over the weather board along his rack and “accidentally” kicked my shoulder.
I swear, he was a hateful, miserable old man and if he wasn’t such an old guy it would have be easy for me to bust his teeth if he sassed me back on the beach like he did out there.
One of my rules. Never ever fight on a boat unless I absolutely have no choice but to protect myself. Fighting got guys fired anyway, it’s not tolerated at sea, not at all and usually the one who started the fight, especially if it was a BS reason and the other guy got busted up, well that guy usually caught a beating back at the dock, and I mean a beating, one that would force him to stay ashore for a couple of trips.
Fishermen as a rule were no joke to mess with back then. Think about it, for a large part of every watch we normally shoveled rocks for a living most of the year not these sand dollars. Spend six months working the rock piles of Asia rip, you’ll understand.
Cookie was already clearing the table to make it ready for the next watch as we wrapped up eating.
The bell started clanging for watch change and the other gang would be piling down famished!
That’s when guys really eat, when coming off deck and especially for breakfast. Guys coming in for breakfast could easily eat a dozen eggs and a pound or more of bacon etc etc etc.
Breakfast was everyone favorite meal and the amount and kinds of food Steve cooked for it was something to behold.
I couldn’t wait till I was on a 12-6 watch so I could come in for breakfast rather than eat and go out on deck to immediately bend over to pick and shovel the first pile that was already up there on deck waiting for us. Nobody loaded up on food before going out on watch, only coming off watch.
Continued
Page 8
Not loading up on food meant maybe only one big bowl of stew and a couple of BLT’s each heaped with a half pound of bacon.
Wrap your mind around that for a second…..
We all piled up on deck and started picking the piles. The drags were already on the bottom towing so we were behind schedule already. This happened at the beginning of every watch. We were catching so many Scallops that it might take one or two tows before we caught up again.
Maybe it would be better now that I was going to start cutting. Once the pile was picked I began shoveling my end or the forward end of the pile. Jerry and Doug started shoveling their side but Old John just walked aft into the box and started cutting.
The Skipper blew the horn and John came out, shucking knife in hand and Jimmy yelled at him, “Drop the knife and start shoveling” and I couldn’t believe it, Old John hollered back, “I’m not doing this lazy Shacker’s work”! The Skipper turned purple and screamed, “Say one more word and I’m fining you $500.00!”
I didn’t know he could do such a thing.
Old John’s head looked like it was going to pop. He threw his knife over the side and grabbed a shovel. Then it got worse because Jimmy yelled to me, “You shovel half that pile Ron, the other half belongs to John”.
OMG, he’d said my name and hadn’t called me Shacker.
Jerry and Doug had kept shoveling but with their heads turned towards me and Old John with mouths hanging open. Ya know, I honestly thought Old John might have a heart attack, he smoked Camels like a chimney, but he started shoveling.
I got half way through the pile but kept shoveling and I looked up to see Jimmy smiling so I knew
I was doing the right thing by not stopping half way. Jerry and Doug were done already and they where in the starboard box cutting.
A few minutes later we were done and I threw my shovel in the checker box and ran into the port box. When I turned I saw Old John heave his shovel across the deck and lean his butt against the tow wire that ran forward at the same height as the hatch cover. Wow was me mad!
I grabbed one of the black rubber buckets we cut into that holds twenty pounds of Scallops when rounded off them I kinda cleared a hole among the Scallops midway to the boxes end and jammed my bucket down in there and grabbed one of my knifes. Two were missing. I’d left six out here.
Jerry, the starboard winch-man came around and showed me how to properly tape up it’s handle with black friction tape so it fit comfortably in my hand and I began to slowly cut focusing on scraping the shell clean as I threw the guts and bottom or the flat shell out the window then scraped my first Scallop meat into the bucket form the top curved shell. Right handed cutters hold the scallops upside down, it’s a thing…..
After tossing out the second shell I grabbed another Scallop and just kept doing the same thing Scallop after Scallop.
I could hear the Skipper and Old John talking on deck but I could not make out what was said with the noise coming up from the engine room. Maybe five minutes later John wandered in without saying a word, grabbed another knife that was jammed in between two boards near him and without looking at me started cutting. John had thrown his favorite knife over which meant he was breaking in a brand new knife just like me. I’ll bet that drove him nuts!
Even though I was exhausted when my watch ended I had stayed up a little while longer a few times over the last few days and studied how the guys from the other watch cut for a bit and I even filled half a bucket with Scallops one day.
The next time I stayed up to watch them a guy named Charlie who was pretty cool began to explain a few things about cutting and actually helped me out.
It turned out that the Skipper had broken Charlie in about nine years earlier and he had been with Jimmy ever since.
Charlie even showed me how to engage the winch for haul back and I watched him with the levers that controlled the tackle hook that hung over the middle of the rail from one of the two of angled booms that were secured to the base of the main-mast.
He also showed me how to secure the main brake after the drag was back on the bottom since he was the starboard winch man on the 12-6 watch. I was on the 6-12 watch if you remember.
Two tows after the blow-up between the Skipper and Old John we were hauling back once again and I could tell Old John was seething at having to be breaking in a new knife since he’d thrown his favorite one overboard after acting like a baby when got ordered to shovel or lose $500.00. I often wondered what made OLD JOHN such a hateful old man. Nobody could stand him.
Soon enough the Skipper double rang the bell signaling the 10 fathom mark had broken the surface and I followed John out of the box and when he stepped up on the winch platform I ran forward and grabbed the hook to stand by the gallows waiting for the bull ring that the tow wire was spliced through to explode from the depths and stop at the hanging block so I could drop the hook on it.
I had been wondering if Jimmy would still come down today to teach me about shucking Scallops after that circus on deck but he hadn’t, not yet anyway.
So now it was drags in drags out, pick the pile, shovel the deck, cut Scallops and clean the fish then wash all of it and lower everything into the hold for icing. Every watch, day after day.
The Skipper did end up coming down to spend some time with me cutting the next watch and boy, was he ever a fast cutter!
Faster than anybody else on this boat that was for sure.
When Jimmy felt comfortable with what I was doing he went back to the wheelhouse but for the rest of the trip he’d come down now and again each watch to inspect my shells, to see if I was cutting clean. If there was any meat left on any of my shells he sure chewed on my butt but good.
In later years when guys asked where I’d broken in, some of the older guys would nod their heads approvingly. It was clear to them by my cutting and other things that it had been Tinkerbell that had brought me up. For me to be able talk about the things I did left no doubt with them that I been fishing with Jimmy for some time.
By now I’d totally lost track of the days and I kinda felt like part of the crew now but I still had to come back on deck each watch after we ate to cut more buckets of Scallops to make up for my lack of cutting skill.
As the watches slowly passed, the extra time I was forced to cut began to become less and less. I was no longer called Shacker by everyone anymore except for Old John, hateful old man that he was.
One thing my gut had warned me about during the early part of the trip was weather, I had been right and it blew up to 35-40 knots of wind which blew itself out in less than 48 hours but it brought 15-25 foot seas with it from the Nor’east.
Jimmy told me it was blowing 70 and better out on the edge.
NO thanks had run through my mind. I am fine and dandy right here thank you!
One great thing about heavy weather though, we did’t have to shovel the button piles. All we did was open the scuppers and the ocean waves along with the wildly rolling boat, especially when she was broadside to the seas during the turns cleaned off the deck just fine.
Continued
Not loading up on food meant maybe only one big bowl of stew and a couple of BLT’s each heaped with a half pound of bacon.
Wrap your mind around that for a second…..
We all piled up on deck and started picking the piles. The drags were already on the bottom towing so we were behind schedule already. This happened at the beginning of every watch. We were catching so many Scallops that it might take one or two tows before we caught up again.
Maybe it would be better now that I was going to start cutting. Once the pile was picked I began shoveling my end or the forward end of the pile. Jerry and Doug started shoveling their side but Old John just walked aft into the box and started cutting.
The Skipper blew the horn and John came out, shucking knife in hand and Jimmy yelled at him, “Drop the knife and start shoveling” and I couldn’t believe it, Old John hollered back, “I’m not doing this lazy Shacker’s work”! The Skipper turned purple and screamed, “Say one more word and I’m fining you $500.00!”
I didn’t know he could do such a thing.
Old John’s head looked like it was going to pop. He threw his knife over the side and grabbed a shovel. Then it got worse because Jimmy yelled to me, “You shovel half that pile Ron, the other half belongs to John”.
OMG, he’d said my name and hadn’t called me Shacker.
Jerry and Doug had kept shoveling but with their heads turned towards me and Old John with mouths hanging open. Ya know, I honestly thought Old John might have a heart attack, he smoked Camels like a chimney, but he started shoveling.
I got half way through the pile but kept shoveling and I looked up to see Jimmy smiling so I knew
I was doing the right thing by not stopping half way. Jerry and Doug were done already and they where in the starboard box cutting.
A few minutes later we were done and I threw my shovel in the checker box and ran into the port box. When I turned I saw Old John heave his shovel across the deck and lean his butt against the tow wire that ran forward at the same height as the hatch cover. Wow was me mad!
I grabbed one of the black rubber buckets we cut into that holds twenty pounds of Scallops when rounded off them I kinda cleared a hole among the Scallops midway to the boxes end and jammed my bucket down in there and grabbed one of my knifes. Two were missing. I’d left six out here.
Jerry, the starboard winch-man came around and showed me how to properly tape up it’s handle with black friction tape so it fit comfortably in my hand and I began to slowly cut focusing on scraping the shell clean as I threw the guts and bottom or the flat shell out the window then scraped my first Scallop meat into the bucket form the top curved shell. Right handed cutters hold the scallops upside down, it’s a thing…..
After tossing out the second shell I grabbed another Scallop and just kept doing the same thing Scallop after Scallop.
I could hear the Skipper and Old John talking on deck but I could not make out what was said with the noise coming up from the engine room. Maybe five minutes later John wandered in without saying a word, grabbed another knife that was jammed in between two boards near him and without looking at me started cutting. John had thrown his favorite knife over which meant he was breaking in a brand new knife just like me. I’ll bet that drove him nuts!
Even though I was exhausted when my watch ended I had stayed up a little while longer a few times over the last few days and studied how the guys from the other watch cut for a bit and I even filled half a bucket with Scallops one day.
The next time I stayed up to watch them a guy named Charlie who was pretty cool began to explain a few things about cutting and actually helped me out.
It turned out that the Skipper had broken Charlie in about nine years earlier and he had been with Jimmy ever since.
Charlie even showed me how to engage the winch for haul back and I watched him with the levers that controlled the tackle hook that hung over the middle of the rail from one of the two of angled booms that were secured to the base of the main-mast.
He also showed me how to secure the main brake after the drag was back on the bottom since he was the starboard winch man on the 12-6 watch. I was on the 6-12 watch if you remember.
Two tows after the blow-up between the Skipper and Old John we were hauling back once again and I could tell Old John was seething at having to be breaking in a new knife since he’d thrown his favorite one overboard after acting like a baby when got ordered to shovel or lose $500.00. I often wondered what made OLD JOHN such a hateful old man. Nobody could stand him.
Soon enough the Skipper double rang the bell signaling the 10 fathom mark had broken the surface and I followed John out of the box and when he stepped up on the winch platform I ran forward and grabbed the hook to stand by the gallows waiting for the bull ring that the tow wire was spliced through to explode from the depths and stop at the hanging block so I could drop the hook on it.
I had been wondering if Jimmy would still come down today to teach me about shucking Scallops after that circus on deck but he hadn’t, not yet anyway.
So now it was drags in drags out, pick the pile, shovel the deck, cut Scallops and clean the fish then wash all of it and lower everything into the hold for icing. Every watch, day after day.
The Skipper did end up coming down to spend some time with me cutting the next watch and boy, was he ever a fast cutter!
Faster than anybody else on this boat that was for sure.
When Jimmy felt comfortable with what I was doing he went back to the wheelhouse but for the rest of the trip he’d come down now and again each watch to inspect my shells, to see if I was cutting clean. If there was any meat left on any of my shells he sure chewed on my butt but good.
In later years when guys asked where I’d broken in, some of the older guys would nod their heads approvingly. It was clear to them by my cutting and other things that it had been Tinkerbell that had brought me up. For me to be able talk about the things I did left no doubt with them that I been fishing with Jimmy for some time.
By now I’d totally lost track of the days and I kinda felt like part of the crew now but I still had to come back on deck each watch after we ate to cut more buckets of Scallops to make up for my lack of cutting skill.
As the watches slowly passed, the extra time I was forced to cut began to become less and less. I was no longer called Shacker by everyone anymore except for Old John, hateful old man that he was.
One thing my gut had warned me about during the early part of the trip was weather, I had been right and it blew up to 35-40 knots of wind which blew itself out in less than 48 hours but it brought 15-25 foot seas with it from the Nor’east.
Jimmy told me it was blowing 70 and better out on the edge.
NO thanks had run through my mind. I am fine and dandy right here thank you!
One great thing about heavy weather though, we did’t have to shovel the button piles. All we did was open the scuppers and the ocean waves along with the wildly rolling boat, especially when she was broadside to the seas during the turns cleaned off the deck just fine.
Continued
Page 9
It’s The days went by and the twice daily watch on, watch off became routine but like I’d been warned, OMG, my wrists. It felt like my hands would fall off and my body was absolutely bone weary tired.
Getting out of my rack was getting harder with each passing watch.
One afternoon as I lay awake aggregated by being woken up by the 12-6 watch who had come down for what I thought was mid watch mug up because they were being really loud and banging stuff around which was not how they usually behaved. It was really pissing me off because respecting the other watches sleep time was no small thing, we all had to live together.
I was getting ready to throw a little hissy fit when suddenly the boats large and very loud air horn began to blast over and over and over again and just I bolted straight upright, wide awake. The Mate then hollered down from the deck, “Shake em out boys, we’re goin home.”
I had this habit of changing ALL my clothes before climbing into my rack, something some of the other guys DID NOT do and to me this was beyond gross! I swung my legs over the weather board that kept us from rolling out of our rack and reached for my boots.
As I slipped my feet into them and sat on the bench next to my rack I realized my body didn’t even hurt. I would have bet a gallon of adrenaline was flooding my body at that very moment. Everyone was up and the place was a mad house of cheering men. I’m going home!
It was 01:50 and I only been in my rack for 30 minutes or so when they first woke me but I had no idea I’d barely been asleep.
The four guys on watch ran up the ladder and in short order I could hear the hydraulics start to scream as the winch took on the full load of the tons of wire, scallop drags and everything in them and began in earnest to haul it all back to the gallows blocks that reached out over the rails up forward.
The twin legs of the gallows were anchored to the deck mere feet from either side of the boats mainmast and the boats doghouse which is the protective entryway that leads down into the Foc’sle.
I couldn’t help but run up on deck myself where I heard other boats giving a short blast from their horns in salute recognizing the fact that The Ellen Louise was Homeward Bound.
I remember wondering how many faces turned our way from nearby boats wearing looks of envy.
I know I did exactly that a couple of times during the trip when I heard a horn blowing like Jimmy just did.
I watched closely as this part of the trip, the cleaning of everything and the securing of this kind of boat for the steam home was all a new experience for me. The drags were quickly emptied in the normal way but the guys left the bags swinging in the air and began to clear them of anything that had not been shaken out by the jostling of the cargo hook.
When that was finished the bag end or net if you will which is made from steel rings all linked together was then draped back over the top of the drags and the pelican hooks were tightly secured to them.
The only thing holding them on the rail was maybe 11 feet of 1 1/4 inch thick, long shank chain.
The drags were then lifted and carefully placed on the rails and were allowed to slide back against the stop posts so the men could safely work below them picking the piles and clearing the deck of all the trash of the trips final tow.
I decided to get into my oils (rain pants😂to any of you Deadliest Catch fans🤫) and help the boys pick and shovel then I grabbed my knife and found a place to cut out alongside them. Jerry from my watch came up to help as well and in less than an hour we began on the fish. The guys started teasing* me a bit about how much longer it took bag up and do the fish now at the end of the watch ever since I had opened my mouth about doing things differently.
*(There would be no more laughing or giving me a hard time once the envelopes of cash along with the checks got handed out in the galley late the next afternoon by Jimmy, that’s for sure.
The Skipper gave me a wink as the guys mouths fell open when they checked the envelopes full of cash money. We had caught a lot of fish that trip and the livers were worth big, big money.)
The Mate also came out to help so with seven guys working we were done in no time and everything was lowered into the hold. I volunteered to go down and Charlie from the other watch joined me.
We got every settled in the correct pens and we topped everything off with a thick covering of ice.
Wow, we had gone through a lot of ice that trip. There was only a single pen of ice out of the original seven that we had left untouched, but ice was cheap so, no problem!
Now the wash down began in earnest and it would take 11 men almost eight hours to scrub the boat down completely and get everything secured. At six the watch changed again but two guys from the other watch stayed up to help and another guy helped Steve in the galley. Charlie from the other watch went off, leaving us after a bit to help the Chief in the engine room.
I was told to start in the shucking houses and when I looked under one of the boxes I knew why, the yellow slime that had built up under and around them was nasty as can be.
The boxes took a lot of scrubbing with bilge cleaner.
Not long before the end of my 12-6 watch the Skipper declared the boat clean and the gear stowed after a close inspection. He then engaged the hydraulics and we set the drags back on deck.
Other than wheel watches we were all done and could just eat and sleep or whatever we wanted pretty much.
Jimmy kept a dry boat so there was no Homeward Bound Beer like a lot of boats broke out.
I was fine with that, so many fishermen get real ugly when they drink. I was glad it was a dry boat!
I took off my oilers and went below looking for food. Steve did not disappoint. It was mostly soup and sandwiches, cakes, pies and other stuff but there was plenty of it as usual. Sitting there building a sandwich I wondered how much food the cook tossed overboard each trip. All I knew then was that it was a lot. I’d seen near countless bags and buckets of it go over the side.
The Mate popped down and took a seat then told me that when finished eating the Skipper wanted me for wheel watch. Right away alarm bells rang, I was off watch so all I said was, “Thanks Chief”.
OK, my appetite was gone now but to give myself time to think I finished my sandwich and had a piece of pie with a coffee. When finished I rose and worked my way along the bench behind the other guys sitting at the table and climbed the ladder.
Continued
It’s The days went by and the twice daily watch on, watch off became routine but like I’d been warned, OMG, my wrists. It felt like my hands would fall off and my body was absolutely bone weary tired.
Getting out of my rack was getting harder with each passing watch.
One afternoon as I lay awake aggregated by being woken up by the 12-6 watch who had come down for what I thought was mid watch mug up because they were being really loud and banging stuff around which was not how they usually behaved. It was really pissing me off because respecting the other watches sleep time was no small thing, we all had to live together.
I was getting ready to throw a little hissy fit when suddenly the boats large and very loud air horn began to blast over and over and over again and just I bolted straight upright, wide awake. The Mate then hollered down from the deck, “Shake em out boys, we’re goin home.”
I had this habit of changing ALL my clothes before climbing into my rack, something some of the other guys DID NOT do and to me this was beyond gross! I swung my legs over the weather board that kept us from rolling out of our rack and reached for my boots.
As I slipped my feet into them and sat on the bench next to my rack I realized my body didn’t even hurt. I would have bet a gallon of adrenaline was flooding my body at that very moment. Everyone was up and the place was a mad house of cheering men. I’m going home!
It was 01:50 and I only been in my rack for 30 minutes or so when they first woke me but I had no idea I’d barely been asleep.
The four guys on watch ran up the ladder and in short order I could hear the hydraulics start to scream as the winch took on the full load of the tons of wire, scallop drags and everything in them and began in earnest to haul it all back to the gallows blocks that reached out over the rails up forward.
The twin legs of the gallows were anchored to the deck mere feet from either side of the boats mainmast and the boats doghouse which is the protective entryway that leads down into the Foc’sle.
I couldn’t help but run up on deck myself where I heard other boats giving a short blast from their horns in salute recognizing the fact that The Ellen Louise was Homeward Bound.
I remember wondering how many faces turned our way from nearby boats wearing looks of envy.
I know I did exactly that a couple of times during the trip when I heard a horn blowing like Jimmy just did.
I watched closely as this part of the trip, the cleaning of everything and the securing of this kind of boat for the steam home was all a new experience for me. The drags were quickly emptied in the normal way but the guys left the bags swinging in the air and began to clear them of anything that had not been shaken out by the jostling of the cargo hook.
When that was finished the bag end or net if you will which is made from steel rings all linked together was then draped back over the top of the drags and the pelican hooks were tightly secured to them.
The only thing holding them on the rail was maybe 11 feet of 1 1/4 inch thick, long shank chain.
The drags were then lifted and carefully placed on the rails and were allowed to slide back against the stop posts so the men could safely work below them picking the piles and clearing the deck of all the trash of the trips final tow.
I decided to get into my oils (rain pants😂to any of you Deadliest Catch fans🤫) and help the boys pick and shovel then I grabbed my knife and found a place to cut out alongside them. Jerry from my watch came up to help as well and in less than an hour we began on the fish. The guys started teasing* me a bit about how much longer it took bag up and do the fish now at the end of the watch ever since I had opened my mouth about doing things differently.
*(There would be no more laughing or giving me a hard time once the envelopes of cash along with the checks got handed out in the galley late the next afternoon by Jimmy, that’s for sure.
The Skipper gave me a wink as the guys mouths fell open when they checked the envelopes full of cash money. We had caught a lot of fish that trip and the livers were worth big, big money.)
The Mate also came out to help so with seven guys working we were done in no time and everything was lowered into the hold. I volunteered to go down and Charlie from the other watch joined me.
We got every settled in the correct pens and we topped everything off with a thick covering of ice.
Wow, we had gone through a lot of ice that trip. There was only a single pen of ice out of the original seven that we had left untouched, but ice was cheap so, no problem!
Now the wash down began in earnest and it would take 11 men almost eight hours to scrub the boat down completely and get everything secured. At six the watch changed again but two guys from the other watch stayed up to help and another guy helped Steve in the galley. Charlie from the other watch went off, leaving us after a bit to help the Chief in the engine room.
I was told to start in the shucking houses and when I looked under one of the boxes I knew why, the yellow slime that had built up under and around them was nasty as can be.
The boxes took a lot of scrubbing with bilge cleaner.
Not long before the end of my 12-6 watch the Skipper declared the boat clean and the gear stowed after a close inspection. He then engaged the hydraulics and we set the drags back on deck.
Other than wheel watches we were all done and could just eat and sleep or whatever we wanted pretty much.
Jimmy kept a dry boat so there was no Homeward Bound Beer like a lot of boats broke out.
I was fine with that, so many fishermen get real ugly when they drink. I was glad it was a dry boat!
I took off my oilers and went below looking for food. Steve did not disappoint. It was mostly soup and sandwiches, cakes, pies and other stuff but there was plenty of it as usual. Sitting there building a sandwich I wondered how much food the cook tossed overboard each trip. All I knew then was that it was a lot. I’d seen near countless bags and buckets of it go over the side.
The Mate popped down and took a seat then told me that when finished eating the Skipper wanted me for wheel watch. Right away alarm bells rang, I was off watch so all I said was, “Thanks Chief”.
OK, my appetite was gone now but to give myself time to think I finished my sandwich and had a piece of pie with a coffee. When finished I rose and worked my way along the bench behind the other guys sitting at the table and climbed the ladder.
Continued
Page 10
Wow, it was Bright up on deck. I jogged quickly aft and with a knot in my throat climbed the steel runged ladder to the wheelhouse and heard Jimmy inside, “Come on in”, and stepping inside I found him standing at his chart table just inside his bunk room. The Skipper dropped a pair of dividers on the chart and stepped up into the wheelhouse to stand there and just stare at me for what seemed like forever with a look of anger and/or amusement on his face. How does one really describe the look I saw? I’m not entirely sure but I do remember that it was not long after the boat was free of the dock nine days earlier that I discovered Jimmy Tinker was a hard man to read. He only let his face give away his thoughts when he wanted too and he was very, very good at it. I do remember thinking more than once that I’d never play poker with him.
“You lied to me” was all he said suddenly but he was staring me right in the eye and I immediately said, “No I didn’t Skipper” He came back with “Huh, how”s that?”
I thought again about that day in the rain, “Remember what you asked that day when I asked you for a job”? “Sure” he said. “I asked you if you’d ever been Scalloping before”. “Nope” is all I said. “Come again”? were his words in return.
“Jimmy, you asked me if I’d ever been, and I emphasized the word FISHING”, I did’t lie, I’ve been fishing going on two years now, you never asked me if I’d ever been Scalloping”!
Jimmy busted out laughing, “You got me there, I knew you were a smart boy!” “OK, so before you answer my next question think hard about your answer ok”. “Do you think you earned a full share this trip, after all you are a fisherman right”? I just stood there for a half a minute so he continued.
“I talked with the gang and if you want a full share I’ll give it to you but you have to find another job. Silence from me as I digested those words and he continued, “If you take half share I’ll take you back out next trip”. Without hesitation I nearly yelled, I’ll take half share” and he busted out laughing and I heard a loud cheer right outside and below the wheelhouse.
The boys had snuck up to listen, they knew what he was going to ask me because they’d all agreed to it.
Aha I thought, that’s why the Chief asked me to help him move some things in the engine room earlier. The stuff Josh had us doing for thirty minutes until the Skipper whistled down was kinda dumb, silly nonsense kind of things too do but I had never caught on until now.
So much for being a smart boy I thought to myself later.
The only one not to agree was Old John of course. He had demanded I be fired for lying and for being a lazy plug the whole trip when it was discussed in the galley without me.
A guy named Junior simply said that I was a plug and as long as I wasn’t on his watch he didn’t care what happened to me.
It was much later when I found out who shut him up in the galley and what he said to Old John.
“Who’s the lazy plug?” Doug had yelled at him. “Ron has been shoveling half your side of the pile and dumping three baskets to your two for days now and he’s never said a word.” Seems John then called Doug something vile and he lost it.
Doug was a great guy most of the time, I thought but he did have a dark and mean side to him for sure. I saw that first hand the time I had to handle the gear.
Doug screamed at him, “You’re a real jerk John! You don’t like it, pack your bags, none of us here will care, I can’t wait until you’re gone and others feel the same way you miserable old plug, they just don’t have the guts to say it to your face”.
As much has I appreciated Doug defending me I thought he went way over the by calling the old guy a plug, he’d been for decades.
He was offshore years before his parents were even married.
I couldn’t stand Old John either and if was my age I would have shut him up long ago but for the most part I managed to just ignore him.
Jimmy later told my that it made the old guy nuts I didn’t let him get under my skin. That made me Laugh Out Loud for sure!
I had kept my job, I’d pulled it off. I had been convinced that there was no way the Skipper would take me back but In my mind I was ready for it. I had been out once, I believed I’d find another boat easy enough.
The wheelhouse door opened and Doug and Jerry squeezed in and Charlie was leaning in the window from the top rung of the ladder. Wheelhouses on Eastern Rigs are tiny in comparison to many other types of fishing boats.
Jerry spoke up, “Come on Skipper, tell him the rest”!
Jimmie laughed.
“Well, bad news then good”. “I’m paying your half share from the gangs 60% of the trip which means you pay taxes like the rest of us” but we agreed to you getting a full share of the shack, that’s cash money and you’re coming back next trip”.
The only thing that came to my mind to say was, “Do I have to be Old John’s dory mate again”? which I said out loud.
The four of them just broke down and began to howl with laughter. Everyone including me was almost crying we were laughing so hard and Doug started choking so Jerry began pounding him on the back.
The other guys left while still laughing after a few minutes with no words said.
Jimmy spoke up as the wheelhouse door closed behind them, “Go get some sleep” and he stuck out his
hand. “Welcome to the crew”.
About 5 hours later I heard the bell ringing and I asked Steve what was going on as I sat up still feel groggy. “We’re almost home” he said and shook the rest of the guys awake who had completely crashed like me”.
“Break out the lines” he yelled and when I got on deck a couple of minutes earlier I saw the lighthouse passing by again, this time to port. Earlier Jimmy and I had gotten to through to Virgil on the VHF and he was meeting us on the North side of the old Sea Food Co-op.
With no other boats along the dock we got tied up quickly and Virgil climbed aboard. After hello’s all around and a short discussion I opened the after hatch to the hold and climbed down followed closely behind by Virgil, then Jimmy. Virgil made a quick clap of his hands and said, “OK, show me what you got”.
As quick as I could I grabbed a big white plastic ice shovel and uncovered one of the pens of the Jumbo Black Backs and Virgil gave out a short whistle, “Wow” he said, “you have two full pens of these?” “Yup I answered, and one of mixed medium to medium large and half a pen of Pee Wee’s”, which I showed him.
“Show me the bags”. So I began breaking out bags from different days of the trip for him. He’d lift them and roll them over back and forth and he kept going “Hmm, hmm, hmm”. After a minute he turned to me, “go up and let me and Jimmy talk my young friend”.
Without a sound I ran up the ladder and while walking from away from the hatch I motioned to the other guys to move away as well. It was more than ten minutes before they came up and I was nervous as hell.
The only thing either of them said was, “Close the hatch” and when I helped Virgil off the boat he whispered, “Old Tinkerbell is damn glad to have you on the boat, he had only good things to say about you”. Even quieter he whispered, “I’m taking the whole trip, good job kid”.
I was absolutely speechless and as he climbed in his truck from where he yelled to Tinker, “Pull over to the door, it’s empty”.
Continued
Wow, it was Bright up on deck. I jogged quickly aft and with a knot in my throat climbed the steel runged ladder to the wheelhouse and heard Jimmy inside, “Come on in”, and stepping inside I found him standing at his chart table just inside his bunk room. The Skipper dropped a pair of dividers on the chart and stepped up into the wheelhouse to stand there and just stare at me for what seemed like forever with a look of anger and/or amusement on his face. How does one really describe the look I saw? I’m not entirely sure but I do remember that it was not long after the boat was free of the dock nine days earlier that I discovered Jimmy Tinker was a hard man to read. He only let his face give away his thoughts when he wanted too and he was very, very good at it. I do remember thinking more than once that I’d never play poker with him.
“You lied to me” was all he said suddenly but he was staring me right in the eye and I immediately said, “No I didn’t Skipper” He came back with “Huh, how”s that?”
I thought again about that day in the rain, “Remember what you asked that day when I asked you for a job”? “Sure” he said. “I asked you if you’d ever been Scalloping before”. “Nope” is all I said. “Come again”? were his words in return.
“Jimmy, you asked me if I’d ever been, and I emphasized the word FISHING”, I did’t lie, I’ve been fishing going on two years now, you never asked me if I’d ever been Scalloping”!
Jimmy busted out laughing, “You got me there, I knew you were a smart boy!” “OK, so before you answer my next question think hard about your answer ok”. “Do you think you earned a full share this trip, after all you are a fisherman right”? I just stood there for a half a minute so he continued.
“I talked with the gang and if you want a full share I’ll give it to you but you have to find another job. Silence from me as I digested those words and he continued, “If you take half share I’ll take you back out next trip”. Without hesitation I nearly yelled, I’ll take half share” and he busted out laughing and I heard a loud cheer right outside and below the wheelhouse.
The boys had snuck up to listen, they knew what he was going to ask me because they’d all agreed to it.
Aha I thought, that’s why the Chief asked me to help him move some things in the engine room earlier. The stuff Josh had us doing for thirty minutes until the Skipper whistled down was kinda dumb, silly nonsense kind of things too do but I had never caught on until now.
So much for being a smart boy I thought to myself later.
The only one not to agree was Old John of course. He had demanded I be fired for lying and for being a lazy plug the whole trip when it was discussed in the galley without me.
A guy named Junior simply said that I was a plug and as long as I wasn’t on his watch he didn’t care what happened to me.
It was much later when I found out who shut him up in the galley and what he said to Old John.
“Who’s the lazy plug?” Doug had yelled at him. “Ron has been shoveling half your side of the pile and dumping three baskets to your two for days now and he’s never said a word.” Seems John then called Doug something vile and he lost it.
Doug was a great guy most of the time, I thought but he did have a dark and mean side to him for sure. I saw that first hand the time I had to handle the gear.
Doug screamed at him, “You’re a real jerk John! You don’t like it, pack your bags, none of us here will care, I can’t wait until you’re gone and others feel the same way you miserable old plug, they just don’t have the guts to say it to your face”.
As much has I appreciated Doug defending me I thought he went way over the by calling the old guy a plug, he’d been for decades.
He was offshore years before his parents were even married.
I couldn’t stand Old John either and if was my age I would have shut him up long ago but for the most part I managed to just ignore him.
Jimmy later told my that it made the old guy nuts I didn’t let him get under my skin. That made me Laugh Out Loud for sure!
I had kept my job, I’d pulled it off. I had been convinced that there was no way the Skipper would take me back but In my mind I was ready for it. I had been out once, I believed I’d find another boat easy enough.
The wheelhouse door opened and Doug and Jerry squeezed in and Charlie was leaning in the window from the top rung of the ladder. Wheelhouses on Eastern Rigs are tiny in comparison to many other types of fishing boats.
Jerry spoke up, “Come on Skipper, tell him the rest”!
Jimmie laughed.
“Well, bad news then good”. “I’m paying your half share from the gangs 60% of the trip which means you pay taxes like the rest of us” but we agreed to you getting a full share of the shack, that’s cash money and you’re coming back next trip”.
The only thing that came to my mind to say was, “Do I have to be Old John’s dory mate again”? which I said out loud.
The four of them just broke down and began to howl with laughter. Everyone including me was almost crying we were laughing so hard and Doug started choking so Jerry began pounding him on the back.
The other guys left while still laughing after a few minutes with no words said.
Jimmy spoke up as the wheelhouse door closed behind them, “Go get some sleep” and he stuck out his
hand. “Welcome to the crew”.
About 5 hours later I heard the bell ringing and I asked Steve what was going on as I sat up still feel groggy. “We’re almost home” he said and shook the rest of the guys awake who had completely crashed like me”.
“Break out the lines” he yelled and when I got on deck a couple of minutes earlier I saw the lighthouse passing by again, this time to port. Earlier Jimmy and I had gotten to through to Virgil on the VHF and he was meeting us on the North side of the old Sea Food Co-op.
With no other boats along the dock we got tied up quickly and Virgil climbed aboard. After hello’s all around and a short discussion I opened the after hatch to the hold and climbed down followed closely behind by Virgil, then Jimmy. Virgil made a quick clap of his hands and said, “OK, show me what you got”.
As quick as I could I grabbed a big white plastic ice shovel and uncovered one of the pens of the Jumbo Black Backs and Virgil gave out a short whistle, “Wow” he said, “you have two full pens of these?” “Yup I answered, and one of mixed medium to medium large and half a pen of Pee Wee’s”, which I showed him.
“Show me the bags”. So I began breaking out bags from different days of the trip for him. He’d lift them and roll them over back and forth and he kept going “Hmm, hmm, hmm”. After a minute he turned to me, “go up and let me and Jimmy talk my young friend”.
Without a sound I ran up the ladder and while walking from away from the hatch I motioned to the other guys to move away as well. It was more than ten minutes before they came up and I was nervous as hell.
The only thing either of them said was, “Close the hatch” and when I helped Virgil off the boat he whispered, “Old Tinkerbell is damn glad to have you on the boat, he had only good things to say about you”. Even quieter he whispered, “I’m taking the whole trip, good job kid”.
I was absolutely speechless and as he climbed in his truck from where he yelled to Tinker, “Pull over to the door, it’s empty”.
Continued
Page 11
It was seven am when we got started unloading and by ten were done and threw the lines just as the Fairhaven bridge was opening and we steamed through to go tie up along the bulkhead of the empty North Terminal. Today there’s not an inch of the North Terminal available. There was nothing but five empty roads that led in from the main road alongside the old train station, more than a mile of waterfront. That and flat, football sized lots of bare gravel.
Most guys had their SeaBags already packed and jumped ship only minutes after the last line was secured to the dock and Jimmy yelled out, “Everyone in the galley by 14:00 or you wait till we sail on Thursday to get paid.
Thursday was four days away and one of those included a full day on the boat doing gear work. Usually the day before we sailed. Three nights home with a day of gear work in between then back at it…..Phew!
Thursday came and we threw the lines at 10:00 and headed back for New York and the button piles.
From here on it would be 9-10 days out and 3-4 days in.
The same old watch on watch off like what you’ve just read.
Well, that’s not totally accurate because no two trips were ever truly the same. Stuff ALWAYS happens but you get the idea I’m sure.
Now, let’s fast forward…..
The months went by and Spring had just arrived a few days earlier as we began the last trip of March. On the way home that trip while on wheel watch with Tinkerbell he told me we’d have a Shacker the next trip and I asked, “Think he’ll make full share by his fourth trip like me” and that actually irritated the Skipper. “Whoa there big head full share man, screw up bad enough and you’ll be back to half share quicker than you can spit”!
Yeah, I’d just been humbled and put solidly in my place. Thinking back now, I believe that was the stupidest thing I ever said to Jimmy Tinker.
Four days after we had unloaded was April 1st and we had to be at the boat by 09:00 for gear work and then we’d sail the next day. We’d gotten an extra day off this trip, a rare thing back in those days aside from weather or a breakdown. When I pulled up to the boat at 07:30 the Chief was already aboard and there were already three or four guys hanging around literally praying for a job.
Of course I heard calls of, are you the captain or any sites open but I just shook my head and climbed aboard with my sea bags and went forward to claim and make up the rack I’d grown so accustomed too. No Shacker was taking my bunk!
One by one the gang started showing up and I had been in the engine room giving Josh a hand and on this day he allowed me fire up the big main engine for the first time. During previous trips the Chief had discovered just how useful and helpful I could be and I was more than happy to help him out and learn this big old boat inside and out, top to bottom.
Jimmy finally showed as I was bringing up two buckets of dirty fuel filters for disposal, yes disposed of properly, not the way some jerks did it on some boats by waiting until they were offshore to save money where they’d just toss it all the over the side.
OMG, I despise those kind of guys!
Anyway, I helped the Skipper with his bags and by then there must have been nine or ten guys sitting on the bulkhead or just standing around talking and more guys were talking and drinking coffee while leaning against their cars or pickups parked on the gravel.
After Jimmy handed me all his bags and belongings I ran them into the wheelhouse and dumped most of it on his bare mattress. Some stuff was delicate so I knew what to be careful with and where to put things.
When I next looked out the port side forward window of the wheelhouse Jimmy was out there surrounded by a dozen men or more as well as wives or girlfriends.
Most of these guys were full share men so as I expected the crowd quickly thinned once they all knew only a Shacker job was available.
The Skipper appeared interested in this one guy who had stayed behind. He was a good sized guy that looked strong with a thick neck, wide shoulders and back and he wore a bush of curly black hair on his head and it didn’t appear he was wearing gym muscles either.
Guys with only gym bodies almost always failed when trying their hand at Salloping. Spoiled Mama’s Boys with fake gym muscles never made it out here no matter how big or well shaped their bodies got working out.
Gym’s alone don’t don’t build Scalloping bodies as a rule, not by a long shot even though I’m sure some have won the fight and stuck with fishing.
The true battle for any beginner offshore was in the head, beyond that it was only the matter of wether or not their body held out.
It’s kinda like a one,two blow from a sledgehammer. Which one might kill you?
I watched as Jimmy shook hands with this curly haired guy then turned and walked away.
This guys girlfriend was beautiful, shockingly beautiful with really thick, straight dirty blond hair running down her back to her waist.
She was not all heavyset or fat in any way but she did have an extremely well curved and long legged body.
It was an early Spring morning and she was only wearing jeans and a t-shirt and it was very obvious she was covered with goosebumps.
Remember the days of, Burn The Bra? I do…..😍
The Skipper was heading back to his pickup and I watched as the curly hair guy and his girl excitedly hugged then they climbed into a small orange Datsun four door she was driving and they disappeared.
Ok then, what’s up with that I wondered.
Jimmy came back to the boat with one more small bag and climbed aboard.
When he dropped his bag on his rack I stood waiting to hear wether or not he’d hired a Shacker so to get him talking I spoke up. “Everyone’s here except Old John”. “He’s at home with the Flu” came his reply. “If he’s a no show tomorrow I’m going to hire someone off the dock”. He then said, “I told them all to be here in the morning at 8 bells with gear ready to go, there might be a site open so expect a crowd tomorrow because I know some of those guys.
There were a few good men looking but I only saw two guys that I know I’d take at the last minute if it comes to that in the morning. They know who they are”.
“Why a crowd?” I asked. I kind of was surprised the way Jimmy then growled, “Because I know some of those guys are idiots, stupid morons that can’t keep there mouth shut and by noon today the entire waterfront will have heard.
There might be a sight open with Tinkerbell tomorrow at the North Terminal.
I couldn’t believe he’d referred to himself like that and it was sure one hell of a struggle for me to keep a grin off my face. He’d glanced out the corner of his eye at me as he said it too.
Holding a dead pan was a must!
I finally just HAD to ask, “What about a Shacker?” and Jimmy answered, “I hired a kid, well not really but I told him to be here with all his gear by 08:00 if he wants go. Once his gear is on the boat and he’s gotten his hands dirty then he’ll officially be hired. If he’s a no show too they’ll be plenty to pick from”.
Just then Jerry hollered up for the Skipper to engage the hydraulics so I ran down to the deck to start the gear.
We had to do quite a bit of replacing chain, links, shackles and other stuff to the drags as well but I’d saved us all a lot time and work while steaming home last trip.
Continued
It was seven am when we got started unloading and by ten were done and threw the lines just as the Fairhaven bridge was opening and we steamed through to go tie up along the bulkhead of the empty North Terminal. Today there’s not an inch of the North Terminal available. There was nothing but five empty roads that led in from the main road alongside the old train station, more than a mile of waterfront. That and flat, football sized lots of bare gravel.
Most guys had their SeaBags already packed and jumped ship only minutes after the last line was secured to the dock and Jimmy yelled out, “Everyone in the galley by 14:00 or you wait till we sail on Thursday to get paid.
Thursday was four days away and one of those included a full day on the boat doing gear work. Usually the day before we sailed. Three nights home with a day of gear work in between then back at it…..Phew!
Thursday came and we threw the lines at 10:00 and headed back for New York and the button piles.
From here on it would be 9-10 days out and 3-4 days in.
The same old watch on watch off like what you’ve just read.
Well, that’s not totally accurate because no two trips were ever truly the same. Stuff ALWAYS happens but you get the idea I’m sure.
Now, let’s fast forward…..
The months went by and Spring had just arrived a few days earlier as we began the last trip of March. On the way home that trip while on wheel watch with Tinkerbell he told me we’d have a Shacker the next trip and I asked, “Think he’ll make full share by his fourth trip like me” and that actually irritated the Skipper. “Whoa there big head full share man, screw up bad enough and you’ll be back to half share quicker than you can spit”!
Yeah, I’d just been humbled and put solidly in my place. Thinking back now, I believe that was the stupidest thing I ever said to Jimmy Tinker.
Four days after we had unloaded was April 1st and we had to be at the boat by 09:00 for gear work and then we’d sail the next day. We’d gotten an extra day off this trip, a rare thing back in those days aside from weather or a breakdown. When I pulled up to the boat at 07:30 the Chief was already aboard and there were already three or four guys hanging around literally praying for a job.
Of course I heard calls of, are you the captain or any sites open but I just shook my head and climbed aboard with my sea bags and went forward to claim and make up the rack I’d grown so accustomed too. No Shacker was taking my bunk!
One by one the gang started showing up and I had been in the engine room giving Josh a hand and on this day he allowed me fire up the big main engine for the first time. During previous trips the Chief had discovered just how useful and helpful I could be and I was more than happy to help him out and learn this big old boat inside and out, top to bottom.
Jimmy finally showed as I was bringing up two buckets of dirty fuel filters for disposal, yes disposed of properly, not the way some jerks did it on some boats by waiting until they were offshore to save money where they’d just toss it all the over the side.
OMG, I despise those kind of guys!
Anyway, I helped the Skipper with his bags and by then there must have been nine or ten guys sitting on the bulkhead or just standing around talking and more guys were talking and drinking coffee while leaning against their cars or pickups parked on the gravel.
After Jimmy handed me all his bags and belongings I ran them into the wheelhouse and dumped most of it on his bare mattress. Some stuff was delicate so I knew what to be careful with and where to put things.
When I next looked out the port side forward window of the wheelhouse Jimmy was out there surrounded by a dozen men or more as well as wives or girlfriends.
Most of these guys were full share men so as I expected the crowd quickly thinned once they all knew only a Shacker job was available.
The Skipper appeared interested in this one guy who had stayed behind. He was a good sized guy that looked strong with a thick neck, wide shoulders and back and he wore a bush of curly black hair on his head and it didn’t appear he was wearing gym muscles either.
Guys with only gym bodies almost always failed when trying their hand at Salloping. Spoiled Mama’s Boys with fake gym muscles never made it out here no matter how big or well shaped their bodies got working out.
Gym’s alone don’t don’t build Scalloping bodies as a rule, not by a long shot even though I’m sure some have won the fight and stuck with fishing.
The true battle for any beginner offshore was in the head, beyond that it was only the matter of wether or not their body held out.
It’s kinda like a one,two blow from a sledgehammer. Which one might kill you?
I watched as Jimmy shook hands with this curly haired guy then turned and walked away.
This guys girlfriend was beautiful, shockingly beautiful with really thick, straight dirty blond hair running down her back to her waist.
She was not all heavyset or fat in any way but she did have an extremely well curved and long legged body.
It was an early Spring morning and she was only wearing jeans and a t-shirt and it was very obvious she was covered with goosebumps.
Remember the days of, Burn The Bra? I do…..😍
The Skipper was heading back to his pickup and I watched as the curly hair guy and his girl excitedly hugged then they climbed into a small orange Datsun four door she was driving and they disappeared.
Ok then, what’s up with that I wondered.
Jimmy came back to the boat with one more small bag and climbed aboard.
When he dropped his bag on his rack I stood waiting to hear wether or not he’d hired a Shacker so to get him talking I spoke up. “Everyone’s here except Old John”. “He’s at home with the Flu” came his reply. “If he’s a no show tomorrow I’m going to hire someone off the dock”. He then said, “I told them all to be here in the morning at 8 bells with gear ready to go, there might be a site open so expect a crowd tomorrow because I know some of those guys.
There were a few good men looking but I only saw two guys that I know I’d take at the last minute if it comes to that in the morning. They know who they are”.
“Why a crowd?” I asked. I kind of was surprised the way Jimmy then growled, “Because I know some of those guys are idiots, stupid morons that can’t keep there mouth shut and by noon today the entire waterfront will have heard.
There might be a sight open with Tinkerbell tomorrow at the North Terminal.
I couldn’t believe he’d referred to himself like that and it was sure one hell of a struggle for me to keep a grin off my face. He’d glanced out the corner of his eye at me as he said it too.
Holding a dead pan was a must!
I finally just HAD to ask, “What about a Shacker?” and Jimmy answered, “I hired a kid, well not really but I told him to be here with all his gear by 08:00 if he wants go. Once his gear is on the boat and he’s gotten his hands dirty then he’ll officially be hired. If he’s a no show too they’ll be plenty to pick from”.
Just then Jerry hollered up for the Skipper to engage the hydraulics so I ran down to the deck to start the gear.
We had to do quite a bit of replacing chain, links, shackles and other stuff to the drags as well but I’d saved us all a lot time and work while steaming home last trip.
Continued
Page 12
Earlier in the day I’d heard the Mate say, “The Starboard twine top needs replacing.”
Later on after eating a bit and a couple of coffees I climbed the galley ladder to stitch up both twine tops. Jimmy saw me doing it and nodded while smiling.
I’d paid close attention during those first couple of trips because I dove right in on the gear work and I’d learned a lot about putting the Chain Bags together and the Skipper knew it. It went a long way toward me making full share.
I also knew from my Dragging days that fixing the Twine Top using less than one ball of twine was faster and way, way less expensive than replacing the whole thing with a made to order piece of netting from Ship Supply and the sixty feet of 3/4 inch nylon rope that was used to tie a new twine top into the apron and siders that are part of the steel ring bag that makes up a Scallop Drags net, so why not, it worked out for everyone.
Sewing it all up up was easy for me, I’d already spent hours beyond counting by this point mending and building whole new nets.
For me it truly was real simple and just like any other twine top or shredded net I just trimmed out all the torn up parts and using half a roll of the orange twine that makes up the twine tops I sewed it all up nice nice.
When I got finished maybe an hour later the only way you could tell I’d done it was because the twine I used was still a shiny new bright orange.
The port side only had a few broken siders here and there and one small hole so I trimmed that little mess and tidied the whole thing up in about twenty minutes. It save time and money when we did the gear work next trip, that is for sure! Feeling good I went and hit the rack for the rest of steam home.
So a Shacker was kinda hired and gear work really began for our first Spring trip and the drags got hauled up off the deck so we could start working on the rock chains and a couple of guys saw the repaired tops and one of them, Junior, a real jerk hollered up to the wheelhouse, “I thought we were going to replace the twine top on this side” and Josh, the Mate/Engineer yelled at him. “Does it look like it needs replacing you idiot? Shut your mouth and get to work!”
The whole gang busted out laughing. The Mate hated Junior!
That guy literally had no friends on the boat but he was one hell of a good fisherman and he could cut wicked fast. Guys replied to his cutting by using a very complimentary term…..That Boy Can Whittle!
Juniors calling out like that had the exact affect he wanted it to, the Skipper came down but the result was not what Junior had hoped for, Me getting my butt chewed out. Jimmy grabbed the starboard twine top and tugged on it as he inspected it. “NICE” was all he said then he went down forward to the galley and Junior glared at me from across the deck.
I felt good, real good but I wanted more….
I wanted the Engine Room and Wheelhouse!
Everything on deck was wrapped up by 14:00 and even the cook was happy because all the dry goods were already aboard and stowed.
The sausage had arrived too and it was already hanging over the galley stove which Steve would leave alight on the very lowest setting of the carburetor over night to keep the drying process going.
Heck we’d be able to eat it by tomorrow afternoon during the steam out. The breads would be made tonight and as usual and be delivered warm early on the mornings the boat sailed. Routine stuff.
All the other things that are chilled or frozen would be delivered no later than 7 bells in the morning.
Heck, the guys where already at the big wheel of Extra Sharp Cheddar Cheese….
Jimmy again gave us the orders for call-out, 08:00 tomorrow, ready to sail and everyone quickly beat feet as soon as the boat was secured for the night.
Tomorrow and 07:30 came all too quickly and I’d already been awake for hours which seemed to be becoming a habit on the days we sailed.
Nervous excitement maybe? I really don’t know but I left the house early and stopped by Dillons on County street for a big breakfast.
They make the best New England style home fries…mmmmm.
I knew the owners brother Buzzy well, we had hitchhiked to Florida together only a few years earlier.
That was the year I met Barry. He was a Purple Heart Vet who’d been a door gunner on a Huey in Vietnam. Barry taught us how to pick mushrooms.
I got to the boat to find the main engine already purring away and the smell of roasting Linguica reached my nose. By the smell I knew it was already ready to eat but I was kinda stuffed.
I’d bought new oilers and boots too and that stuff went up to the hooks along the hull in the gear locker above the Foc’sle and I quickly made up my rack and stowed most of my other gear in a locker I shared.
Steve was down in the fish hold burying fifty or sixty gallons of milk in his ice pen and carefully placing or burying the other stuff that needed chilling under or around the ground ice.
Continued
Earlier in the day I’d heard the Mate say, “The Starboard twine top needs replacing.”
Later on after eating a bit and a couple of coffees I climbed the galley ladder to stitch up both twine tops. Jimmy saw me doing it and nodded while smiling.
I’d paid close attention during those first couple of trips because I dove right in on the gear work and I’d learned a lot about putting the Chain Bags together and the Skipper knew it. It went a long way toward me making full share.
I also knew from my Dragging days that fixing the Twine Top using less than one ball of twine was faster and way, way less expensive than replacing the whole thing with a made to order piece of netting from Ship Supply and the sixty feet of 3/4 inch nylon rope that was used to tie a new twine top into the apron and siders that are part of the steel ring bag that makes up a Scallop Drags net, so why not, it worked out for everyone.
Sewing it all up up was easy for me, I’d already spent hours beyond counting by this point mending and building whole new nets.
For me it truly was real simple and just like any other twine top or shredded net I just trimmed out all the torn up parts and using half a roll of the orange twine that makes up the twine tops I sewed it all up nice nice.
When I got finished maybe an hour later the only way you could tell I’d done it was because the twine I used was still a shiny new bright orange.
The port side only had a few broken siders here and there and one small hole so I trimmed that little mess and tidied the whole thing up in about twenty minutes. It save time and money when we did the gear work next trip, that is for sure! Feeling good I went and hit the rack for the rest of steam home.
So a Shacker was kinda hired and gear work really began for our first Spring trip and the drags got hauled up off the deck so we could start working on the rock chains and a couple of guys saw the repaired tops and one of them, Junior, a real jerk hollered up to the wheelhouse, “I thought we were going to replace the twine top on this side” and Josh, the Mate/Engineer yelled at him. “Does it look like it needs replacing you idiot? Shut your mouth and get to work!”
The whole gang busted out laughing. The Mate hated Junior!
That guy literally had no friends on the boat but he was one hell of a good fisherman and he could cut wicked fast. Guys replied to his cutting by using a very complimentary term…..That Boy Can Whittle!
Juniors calling out like that had the exact affect he wanted it to, the Skipper came down but the result was not what Junior had hoped for, Me getting my butt chewed out. Jimmy grabbed the starboard twine top and tugged on it as he inspected it. “NICE” was all he said then he went down forward to the galley and Junior glared at me from across the deck.
I felt good, real good but I wanted more….
I wanted the Engine Room and Wheelhouse!
Everything on deck was wrapped up by 14:00 and even the cook was happy because all the dry goods were already aboard and stowed.
The sausage had arrived too and it was already hanging over the galley stove which Steve would leave alight on the very lowest setting of the carburetor over night to keep the drying process going.
Heck we’d be able to eat it by tomorrow afternoon during the steam out. The breads would be made tonight and as usual and be delivered warm early on the mornings the boat sailed. Routine stuff.
All the other things that are chilled or frozen would be delivered no later than 7 bells in the morning.
Heck, the guys where already at the big wheel of Extra Sharp Cheddar Cheese….
Jimmy again gave us the orders for call-out, 08:00 tomorrow, ready to sail and everyone quickly beat feet as soon as the boat was secured for the night.
Tomorrow and 07:30 came all too quickly and I’d already been awake for hours which seemed to be becoming a habit on the days we sailed.
Nervous excitement maybe? I really don’t know but I left the house early and stopped by Dillons on County street for a big breakfast.
They make the best New England style home fries…mmmmm.
I knew the owners brother Buzzy well, we had hitchhiked to Florida together only a few years earlier.
That was the year I met Barry. He was a Purple Heart Vet who’d been a door gunner on a Huey in Vietnam. Barry taught us how to pick mushrooms.
I got to the boat to find the main engine already purring away and the smell of roasting Linguica reached my nose. By the smell I knew it was already ready to eat but I was kinda stuffed.
I’d bought new oilers and boots too and that stuff went up to the hooks along the hull in the gear locker above the Foc’sle and I quickly made up my rack and stowed most of my other gear in a locker I shared.
Steve was down in the fish hold burying fifty or sixty gallons of milk in his ice pen and carefully placing or burying the other stuff that needed chilling under or around the ground ice.
Continued
Page 13
Maybe five minutes later I hear a voice calling out, Hello On The Boat so I climbed the ladder to find Steve the cook already heading this way from the after hatch of the hold. He’d already finished down there and secured the heavy steel cover that weighed at least two hundred pounds.
The Shacker Jimmy had shaken hands with yesterday was standing next to the boat on the dock.
Steve turned in his direction and we both got to the rail at the same time and I just nodded. This guy standing there who had just yelled out said, “I spoke with the Captain yesterday and he told me to be here today ready to go fishing.”
The cook spoke up, “You mean you spoke with Jimmy Tinker the Skipper and you’re going out with us?”
Before he could answer I blurted out, “You got a name?” “Brandon” he quickly replied.
He was rocking back and forth from foot to foot and he kept looking behind him, I could sense how nervous he was.
Just then Jimmy pulled up and got out saying, “I see you two have met our Shacker.”
He then turned to the new Shacker and asked if his gear was aboard.
“Not yet” Brandon replied and the Skipper got a little loud when he said, “What are you waiting for?”
Go and get it if you’re coming!”
Our new Shacker turned without a word and ran as fast as he could and disappeared around behind a white pickup truck.
We waited, we wondered and I was glad to see him coming from behind the pickup with two big sea bags hanging from his shoulders and a double armload of stuff.
As he dropped it all against the bulkhead’s safety beam he breathlessly said, “I got one more load” and took off again.
I nodded at Jimmy and then looked at Steve, “He’s all yours cookie, you own the Foc’sle,”
Steve took a fake swing at me. He hated being called cookie!
I turned and headed for the galley and some hanging Linguica thinking, Our first Shacker of Spring.
Three months earlier, I had been this boats first Shacker of Winter.
I am, going to help him!
Spring, is Shacker season…..
The END
Maybe five minutes later I hear a voice calling out, Hello On The Boat so I climbed the ladder to find Steve the cook already heading this way from the after hatch of the hold. He’d already finished down there and secured the heavy steel cover that weighed at least two hundred pounds.
The Shacker Jimmy had shaken hands with yesterday was standing next to the boat on the dock.
Steve turned in his direction and we both got to the rail at the same time and I just nodded. This guy standing there who had just yelled out said, “I spoke with the Captain yesterday and he told me to be here today ready to go fishing.”
The cook spoke up, “You mean you spoke with Jimmy Tinker the Skipper and you’re going out with us?”
Before he could answer I blurted out, “You got a name?” “Brandon” he quickly replied.
He was rocking back and forth from foot to foot and he kept looking behind him, I could sense how nervous he was.
Just then Jimmy pulled up and got out saying, “I see you two have met our Shacker.”
He then turned to the new Shacker and asked if his gear was aboard.
“Not yet” Brandon replied and the Skipper got a little loud when he said, “What are you waiting for?”
Go and get it if you’re coming!”
Our new Shacker turned without a word and ran as fast as he could and disappeared around behind a white pickup truck.
We waited, we wondered and I was glad to see him coming from behind the pickup with two big sea bags hanging from his shoulders and a double armload of stuff.
As he dropped it all against the bulkhead’s safety beam he breathlessly said, “I got one more load” and took off again.
I nodded at Jimmy and then looked at Steve, “He’s all yours cookie, you own the Foc’sle,”
Steve took a fake swing at me. He hated being called cookie!
I turned and headed for the galley and some hanging Linguica thinking, Our first Shacker of Spring.
Three months earlier, I had been this boats first Shacker of Winter.
I am, going to help him!
Spring, is Shacker season…..
The END
a reply to: PiratesCut
VERY powerful story PC! Thank you for posting it here!
You truly need to commit your memories to book form for posterity!
VERY powerful story PC! Thank you for posting it here!
You truly need to commit your memories to book form for posterity!
Thanks for your Submission.
Good Luck in the Contest!
Johnny
**ETA**
Don't forget to add a link in the "Contest Thread" to your story so that everyone can enjoy it!
Good Luck in the Contest!
Johnny
**ETA**
Don't forget to add a link in the "Contest Thread" to your story so that everyone can enjoy it!
edit on 4/30/2022 by JohnnyAnonymous because: Forgot to add that a Link is necessary in the Contest Thread.
a reply to: PiratesCut
Well, blow me down! Your story is literally an Odyssey! A fascinating behind-the-scenes of life on the sea.
I will never eat seafood again without thinking about your tale, and with a new-found respect for fishermen/scallopers. It sounds like a truly arduous and dangerous profession, even if rewarding when the haul is good.
ETA, I know you wanted to add pictures to your story. It would have been nice, but aren't necessary... Your narration and attention to details helped create the imagery in my mind as I read it. Well done!
Well, blow me down! Your story is literally an Odyssey! A fascinating behind-the-scenes of life on the sea.
I will never eat seafood again without thinking about your tale, and with a new-found respect for fishermen/scallopers. It sounds like a truly arduous and dangerous profession, even if rewarding when the haul is good.
ETA, I know you wanted to add pictures to your story. It would have been nice, but aren't necessary... Your narration and attention to details helped create the imagery in my mind as I read it. Well done!
edit on 30/4/2022 by Encia22 because: (no reason given)
Thank You Encia!
I finally found the time to read the stories submitted so far for this contest.
Only minutes ago I replied to yours.
Awesome job! You write so well that your words humble me.
I’m an infant when it comes to truly trying to write stories.
Let’s just say my school years were less than stellar. I never graduated from High School.
I did get my GED years later without opening a book but as far a writing goes I know all but nothing about punctuation, sentence or paragraph structure etc etc.
People tend to be their own worse critics.
Once I read my story after posting I found many errors. I thought I’d found them all after going over it again and again until I felt it ready to post.
Now one question looms large in my mind.
Did I try too hard? That and it sure seems long to me now for a “Short Story”!
I know I’m in a big learn curve, as I stated, I’m an infant. I only began doing this last September or so.
Anyway, I digress……
Thank You for you kind and encouraging words!!!
Cheers….
da pirate 😎
a reply to: Encia22
I finally found the time to read the stories submitted so far for this contest.
Only minutes ago I replied to yours.
Awesome job! You write so well that your words humble me.
I’m an infant when it comes to truly trying to write stories.
Let’s just say my school years were less than stellar. I never graduated from High School.
I did get my GED years later without opening a book but as far a writing goes I know all but nothing about punctuation, sentence or paragraph structure etc etc.
People tend to be their own worse critics.
Once I read my story after posting I found many errors. I thought I’d found them all after going over it again and again until I felt it ready to post.
Now one question looms large in my mind.
Did I try too hard? That and it sure seems long to me now for a “Short Story”!
I know I’m in a big learn curve, as I stated, I’m an infant. I only began doing this last September or so.
Anyway, I digress……
Thank You for you kind and encouraging words!!!
Cheers….
da pirate 😎
a reply to: Encia22
a reply to: PiratesCut
Thanks, I'm humbled because I was never good academically. I started working in a supermarket at the age of 16 and have very few qualifications. Engineering and art were my forte, but I did enjoy Shakespeare, too.
As for punctuation, I can't really give advice because I don't really know what I'm doing, or at least how to explain it. What I find helps is to read it out loud to yourself or someone. Whenever you naturally pause or go off on a tangent, to later come back to the narrative, stick in a comma, semicolon, hyphen or brackets. Also, check out the Oxford comma. It is rarely used but can help structure "itemised" sentences.
I'll admit that the first couple of pages of your story had me struggling for want of a few commas to help structure your thoughts. However, your writing style changed, it became more natural. I believe that we write better when we describe our passions. In your case, your experiences put you in the writing comfort zone... you don't have to worry about getting facts wrong because you know what you're talking about.
In any case, your natural storytelling abilities are evident because I kept going, reading the whole tale, and as I mentioned, the details in your prose helped create the scene in my mind. I felt that I was on the ship with you, the Skipper and the odious John; not to mention the bacon!
Thanks, I'm humbled because I was never good academically. I started working in a supermarket at the age of 16 and have very few qualifications. Engineering and art were my forte, but I did enjoy Shakespeare, too.
As for punctuation, I can't really give advice because I don't really know what I'm doing, or at least how to explain it. What I find helps is to read it out loud to yourself or someone. Whenever you naturally pause or go off on a tangent, to later come back to the narrative, stick in a comma, semicolon, hyphen or brackets. Also, check out the Oxford comma. It is rarely used but can help structure "itemised" sentences.
I'll admit that the first couple of pages of your story had me struggling for want of a few commas to help structure your thoughts. However, your writing style changed, it became more natural. I believe that we write better when we describe our passions. In your case, your experiences put you in the writing comfort zone... you don't have to worry about getting facts wrong because you know what you're talking about.
In any case, your natural storytelling abilities are evident because I kept going, reading the whole tale, and as I mentioned, the details in your prose helped create the scene in my mind. I felt that I was on the ship with you, the Skipper and the odious John; not to mention the bacon!
a reply to: PiratesCut
Wonderful! Your story is so frank and genuine and it reads very well. It was so engaging, that I reduced the screen size such that it was the same ratio I am used to when I read my Kindle. My brain likes that size.
Another thing, and this is so rare: You have such a great understanding and control of dialogue. That was magnificent; we are never made aware of the artifacts which you use to tell the story, but it just flows like a winding river. Elmore "Dutch" Leonard is my hero, and to read his novels is to understand dialogue.
My favorite story in a long time!
Wonderful! Your story is so frank and genuine and it reads very well. It was so engaging, that I reduced the screen size such that it was the same ratio I am used to when I read my Kindle. My brain likes that size.
Another thing, and this is so rare: You have such a great understanding and control of dialogue. That was magnificent; we are never made aware of the artifacts which you use to tell the story, but it just flows like a winding river. Elmore "Dutch" Leonard is my hero, and to read his novels is to understand dialogue.
My favorite story in a long time!
new topics
-
This should be plastered all over the airwaves
Mainstream News: 3 hours ago -
Oh, Good Gosh. “Kremlin Warns Stay Away from Greenland.”
World War Three: 5 hours ago -
Archbisop Vigano Warns of Deep State and Deep Church
New World Order: 5 hours ago -
A Flash of Beauty: Bigfoot Revealed ( documentary )
Cryptozoology: 11 hours ago
top topics
-
This should be plastered all over the airwaves
Mainstream News: 3 hours ago, 12 flags -
Fire insurance in LA withdrawn months ago
General Conspiracies: 14 hours ago, 9 flags -
Oh, Good Gosh. “Kremlin Warns Stay Away from Greenland.”
World War Three: 5 hours ago, 9 flags -
A Flash of Beauty: Bigfoot Revealed ( documentary )
Cryptozoology: 11 hours ago, 7 flags -
Archbisop Vigano Warns of Deep State and Deep Church
New World Order: 5 hours ago, 7 flags
active topics
-
This should be plastered all over the airwaves
Mainstream News • 27 • : Xtrozero -
Oh, Good Gosh. “Kremlin Warns Stay Away from Greenland.”
World War Three • 13 • : fringeofthefringe -
Los Angeles brush fires latest: 2 blazes threaten structures, prompt evacuations
Mainstream News • 329 • : Ravenwatcher -
Elon Musk Calls for Tommy Robinson to be Freed - and Takes a Dig at Starmer
Politicians & People • 19 • : gortex -
To become president, Zelensky had to learn Ukrainian
Political Conspiracies • 38 • : Imhere -
-@TH3WH17ERABB17- -Q- ---TIME TO SHOW THE WORLD--- -Part- --44--
Dissecting Disinformation • 3983 • : IndieA -
A Flash of Beauty: Bigfoot Revealed ( documentary )
Cryptozoology • 6 • : CarlLaFong -
Dr. Demento
Music • 13 • : mysterioustranger -
The Acronym Game .. Pt.4
General Chit Chat • 1041 • : JJproductions -
Judge rules president-elect Donald Trump must be sentenced in 'hush money' trial
US Political Madness • 91 • : Vermilion