Narrated by Edward Michael "Pa" Wells, recorded by Joe Cahill
Courtesy of Ken Ryan, family historian

"A five week trip"

In 1903, in the month of April, on the sixth day of that month I left home for the first time. I was eighteen years of age and my mother (Christina) was bothered by the trip. She went to seen Norman McIsaac, an old man who was a groomsman at my mother's wedding, and asked him to look out for me as he would be a shipmate of mine on my first trip fishing out of Gloucester. I did not know this at the time, but wondered why Norman was so solicitous for my welfare.

Edward's mother, Christine Johnston, in the late 1800's.

We left the port of Gloucester, Massachusetts in the morning and arrived on the East Boston Flats, an anchorage and seaway to the North Shore of Massachusetts Bay, in the afternoon. The anchorage is now all filled in the Logan airport Complex and is no longer covered by water. It was rainy weather with an east wind and we were four days at anchor. I had a chance to go ashore and was around the Atlantic Avenue waterfront area, which was a busy place even in the rain. It was interesting to me, as I had not seen it for about three years.

Fishermen who shipped out were required to outfit their own needs for the trip; this included all wearing apparel that may be used on a trip. My outfit included rubber knee boots and a set of oilskins that included a coat, trousers and a hat called a "souwester." The oil skins were generally made of heavy cotton cloth or linen, which had been saturated with boiled linseed oil and colored yellow by some process unknown to me. When you got a set of "new skins" on you, you felt all dressed up. They were worn on occasions of wet and rainy weather, and while working in the seine boat while fishing for mackerel.

The seine boat on a mackerel schooner is 39 feet long, and has an operating crew of the following people: a steersman; a seine thrower who is usually a tall and strong man; a seine passer who passes the folded twine to the seine thrower; and nine oarsmen, eight of whom sit on four seats, two to a seat, and pull their oars; and a cork-puller who occupied a small seat in the bow.

His work is hard because in hauling the corks, which are attached to the seine, there is a lot of dead weight. The seine may be set ten or more times a day because the sets of seine have been unsuccessful. A crew could work all day like Saint Peter and take nothing!

In order to tell how the mackerel are brought to the schooner, it will first be necessary to explain the intricacies of a net-seine. A seine is 20 feet wide, with a good length of maybe 400 feet. The part that goes down in the water is weighted by iron rings that have a heavy rope passing through them.

This seine is kept in the waist of the seine boat until set around a school of mackerel, after which the seine is again pulled back into the seine boat and folded into the waist of the boat. Later, the seine would be pulled onto the deck of the schooner and then replaced in the seine boat in an orderly fashion. The first part of the rope is attached to the dory after which the seine and the part of the rope going through the rings was thrown over with the seine, which was set in a circle.

After the circle is complete, the other end of the rope and the end that was in the dory were attached to the seine boat. The cork end, which is the part of the seine that floats over the water, is given to the two dory men who follow the seine boat. They, in turn, secure the cork ends and bring them to the seine boat. And the hauling-in or drying-up (of) the seine was now in progress in the seine boat.

Mackerel schooner cruising in Massachusetts Bay Lookout on foretop on the watch for schools. From photograph by T.W. Smillie.

The hauling-in of the seine is a hurried affair, as the rope that runs through the bottom part also has to be dried-in. This part of the business must be done first and hurriedly, as being pulled in tightens all the lower part of the seine that is down in the water, and makes a huge bag in the water. It may enclose some or no fish, as the mackerel is a very elusive fish and may dive out of the seine before it can be closed at the bottom.

If the fish, or some of them, are enclosed in the net seine, the seine is then brought into the boat, and the two ends of the rope are then passed to the schooner. The seine is pulled into the schooner until what is left in the water is just a net-bag full of fish. A crew of hoisters and two men on large dip nets unload the fish from the net-bag onto the deck, where the other members are busily handling them. Think of a large catch of fish in the evening, and the processing of them in the subsequent hours.

Fish keelers are large shallow things with a board on one end for splitting the fish, with a large space in the box to throw them after splitting, where they were stripped of their gills and entrails, and dropped into a barrel of sea water to clean them before salting, generally a short period later. Many of the fish were put entirely in the hold in regular fish-pens all fixed for the purpose, and surrounded by ice to be brought to market fresh. This process would take much of the night-hours by the time that the whole catch was taken care of. If anyone’s watch happened to run right after the processing, it would be a case of no sleep at all; most watches were of two hours duration. But there would be a chance for sleep the next day if the mackerel were not running.

Mackerel are not fished for if they do not show in the water as there is no way to find them unless they show red in the sea, or the school is close enough to the surface so that they cause the water to ripple. The masthead-man is an important factor in finding fish, and especially (is) the one who can see them red in the water. This is the gift of good eyesight. The masthead-man notifies the men on deck, who shout to the captain. And the order is given: “get into the boat"; the order is always given with those words. Then there is a lot of hurry and scurry, as the men get into the boat.

The New Bedford fishing schooner Ernesta, added to the Massachusetts fishing fleet February 5, 1894. Like the James A. Garfeild she had two masts, and was about the same size at 112".

To resume my trip south- I was on the schooner James A Garfield, an old schooner very much weakened by her sea trips, and in a rough sea she did a lot of complaining, grinding and groaning from loosened timbers. She was a wooden sailing ship of about 100 feet, and she had two masts; she was captained by Captain Roy Kimball, a native and resident of Barters Island, Boothbay Harbor, Maine. He usually was skipper of the Lewis H. Giles, a better schooner, not in port at the time of sailing, so he took out the James A. Garfield instead.

We left the East Boston Flats on April 10th, sailed across Massachusetts Bay to Cape Cod and went south over the shoals, which lie right off the Cape Cod shore and are marked by the Highland Light and other beacons, which at the time included small light ships that were named after the shoals which they marked to guide the mariners. Some of these were Sow & Pigs Lightship, Hen & Chickens, and Orleans Lighthouse, which stood on the heights above that place.

When the lightships and other beacons were passed, we came out into the water near the Elizabeth Islands and sailed across Narragansett Bay for Long Island and Montauck Point, with Watch Hill Light to guide us into the Sound. The Sound was a great place to pass and it was passed on May 11th, with an all-night passage in the darkness. The shore lights were gleaming, especially the lights of Westerly (RI), Mystic and New London, Connecticut, and all of the remaining places along the shore, which all showed plainly.

An hour or two sleep was all I required, and next morning, after sun-up, we were passing through Hell Gate, where the ship Hussar was wrecked in the revolutionary days with a load of gold for the army payroll.

The first thing I remember about the Hell Gate trip was "Sunny Jim", who was pictured as a large young figure on a package of cereal called Force. We were sailing along, and on the Long Island side there was Sunny Jim extending 200 feet in the air. He was an impressive sight, with a bright suit similar to an Uncle Sam suit. He also had a high hat with a limerick along side the last two lines. It was, indeed, the largest advertising sign I had ever seen. We dropped Sunny Jim astern and passed Blackwell Island and other institutional places. It was Easter Sunday, April the 12th.

Fulton Fish Market, New York City. photo 1938 by Sol Libsohn Property of The Museum of The City of New York

Our experience of sailing under the Brooklyn Bridge was exciting, and started a lot of speculating about how high it was above the water. At the time, it was the only bridge spanning the East River. We sailed by the Fulton Market and the Navy Yard, on both sides of our passage. Coming out more fully into the harbor, we passed quite close to the Statue of Liberty holding her torch. We kept sailing across the harbor, over to the Staten Island Anchorage off the town of Stapleton.

I had a shipmate along with me on the trip, a young fellow by the name of Nelson; he was the son of Captain George Nelson of Boothbay, Maine; and probably because of Barter’s Island being in Boothbay, and our captain and Nelson’s father having common interests, that he was with us on this trip. I think we matched each other in some ways: neither of us knowing anything about the conduct of going to sea.

We knew a little of (an) old schooner that was anchored in the stream, much as a roadbed is known within harbors, or of wharfs where (we had) the experience of going aboard, and climbing up the rigging to the masthead and out onto the jib- boom and the bob-stays, which are precarious when out at sea or in the seaways. (And these experiences) were very valuable to us.

Nelson and I were both making all the efforts to conceal our ignorance on board the ship, such as (ignorance of) sea sickness and forecastle sickness, or where we slept and ate.

In rough weather, anything that was liquid would follow the old law of physics: that everything will find its own level. The cooks would try not to have soup on a rough day. Eating a boiled dinner was a great effort (what) with its cabbage or sauerkraut and, generally, corned beef with a lot of saltpeter. This meat was generally known by all sailors as Old Horse. Eating was an ordeal, but young Nelson and I showed all our valor and never missed a meal of Old Horse.

The tide where we were anchored at Stapleton was a strong one, and even had a ripple on it. My young shipmate and I had our minds made up to test the flow: together on two seats, each with a pair of oars in our fishing dory, we could conquer it.

We began to reflect on whether we could do it alone with a single pair of oars. As the current was flowing, we lay toward the shore, got out in the dory and rowed out a little from the ship, and (then) drifted down with the tide.

Nelson had the first try, and valiantly tried, but could make no headway, as he did not have the experience of doing hard work, as I did. I then took my turn, and, after long trying, managed to bring the dory back to the schooner.

A storm arose. The anchorage that we were at was not a safe place, as the wind was on the shore. Our exposure to an open and heavy sea was dangerous; and we had to up anchor. We sailed down to Sandy Hook, which was a more sheltered spot. Where during the storm the wind blew off the land and the danger of going ashore was less.

We stayed at Sandy Hook for the period of the storm, which lasted around three days.

It did not rain all the time, and we had the pleasure of going ashore on the beach and enjoying ourselves with looking at and examining flotsam and jetsam. Some interesting things were there, probably drifting there from scowloads of garbage (that were) towed out to the ocean and dumped.

Edward Wells in 1923, with one of his fourteen children.

Things that were attractive to the men were gathered and taken aboard. I remember that Foster Swain brought back a large piece of cedar wood in good condition. He was a clever man with a jackknife, and always kept it sharp and fit to work. He was a good carver with just a jackknife; and amongst the things that he made was a nice picture frame.

He could also make a knife-handle for any kind of fisherman's knife: cutting out places on the blade handle that could be filled with lead, which held the blade and handle very firmly together. The blade was protected from the heat of the lead by being pushed into a potato, which saved it from losing its temper; and the hot lead was poured into the handle at one end protected by a covering of stiff paper.

While we stayed at Sandy Hook we did little except eat and sleep. After three days, we returned to Staten Island but only for a short period of time. It was quite different from when we left, as a lot of craft had been blown ashore. One of the ships that had blown ashore was a large square-rigged ship of a type that abounded at that period.

We left Staten Island and cruised to the south. On the way out of New York Harbor, I was given the wheel and a compass course to steer. There was a Light Ship there called the Ambrose Channel (Light) Ship. The course I was given brought me right close to the Light Ship due to the current; but I said nothing and the people that were on deck were busy at the time, mending nets, and did not see. Our closeness was due partly to our course and partly to the tidal current. I was young and green and afraid to open my mouth. Then, someone looked up and saw how close we were; and the captain said to be more careful.

We sailed out into the open ocean, and while it was not rough there were large, long rollers. I had a watch with young Nelson; we were the only ones on deck. We soon became ill and tried to hide it from each other. I was at the wheel, and seasick, when I noticed that young Nelson did not look well. He finally edged over to the rail to empty himself. And, while he was engaged at it, I lifted the coil of halyard and let my load go under them.

There is a lot of dirty water off New York City, resulting from the waste brought out in the scows and also some oil slicks.

We kept along the Jersey coast. At night and for some nights thereafter we could see the lights from Navesink Heights. This was a very strong electric beam, and may have been the strongest beacon in America. It could be seen when the ship was hull down from the coast. The flash was so strong that it could be seen flashing in the sky many miles away.

We cruised in and out and up and down without a sign of mackerel. The sea was full of schooling porgies, which is a herring-like fish and full of oil. The oil was extracted and taken to port where the extracted oil was used to lubricate machine parts. But I have since heard that they have been fished out.

When Cape May came into view we were low on water, so (we) went in by the Delaware Breakwater and had our tank filled with a mixture of water and vegetable trash. It served the purpose for cooking but was hard to drink. I’d go to the forecastle and get a dipper of it, then wait for the vegetable and small matter to settle. I would then drink the water on top that was a little clearer. It did me no harm but some of the crew had to go over the bow a lot.

We got the water at the town of Lewes, Delaware, which is inside the Breakwater and across from it. It had a population of 5,000 by recent figures. There were probably less people in 1903 and the population was mostly colored at that time. "Crow Law" was operating in good order.

On April 12th a Captain Benjamin Spurling had sailed into New York Harbor with a catch of 10,000 in the schooner Marguerrite Haskins. He believed that the fish had moved farther north since that date, so we went no further south than Cape May, and not to Hatteras as was usual, but kept cruising slowly to the northward.

It was off Fire Island, New York that we caught our first and only fish of the trip. The night was dark, dark which is good for seining. The fish school was shining like phosphorous and easily seen. The sea was a little rough when the word came "get into the boat" with the dory, and to stay at the seine end and wait there for the mackerel, about 12,000. And, after getting the fish aboard the Garfield, we immediately headed for Fulton market Pier in New York City.

When we arrived in New York we got a tow into the fish pier. While waiting to unload, some of the crew, who were always thirsty for alcohol, went up to the liquor tavern. The fish were taken out quickly and, as we wished to go out again, the delinquent members, who were in the bar, had to be rounded up and got aboard. I went along to notify them.

It was a surprising visit because of the amount and price of the beer and liquor. Beer sold for five cents a glass; a glass held two pints. I did not drink so I had no interest in the liquid refreshment. But across from the bar, against the wall, was a shelf with all good food; all sorts of food imaginable was there, and it was free; just help yourself at no cost.

My great-grandparents Edward "Pa" Wells and Helen "Nana" Wells in 1963.

When I think of this today, it puzzles me as to how it could be done: salami, ham, corn beef, bread to make a sandwich, and everything except tea, coffee or tonic. During that time, bars stayed open all night. And it was common saying to "throw away the keys."

We finally persuaded the crewmembers that were there, to leave and come back aboard. The towboat took us as far as the Ambrose Lightship. We sailed around for a day or two and then got closer to and around the South Shoal Lightship. We cruised out onto George's Bank near the channel, which is the outside seaway around Cape Cod.

We finally came into Massachusetts Bay and, on May 15th, we arrived at Gloucester, Massachusetts.

When I left Gloucester, winter was nearly over. Now that we had returned, it was like apple blossom time in Normandy. We had been gone a period of six weeks.

(Narrated by Edward Wells, an old man, about adventures as an 18 year old in 1903.)