T one familiar with the New England coast for the past forty years or so, nothing is more painfully apparent than the change that has occurred in its deepsea fisheries. Four or five decades ago nearly every cove or harbor on mainland or isle from Connecticut to eastern Maine was a site for curing fish, or for "fitting out" vessels for the mackerel fishery, or for voyages to the ocean banks in pursuit of cod or halibut.

Harbor rivalled harbor in fleets of sturdy, trim-built, and gayly painted fishing-vessels, and the wealth and consequence of many coast towns were dependent on their piscatorial navies. While modern sharp-shooters," with their low hulls, long raking masts, and gilded filigree-work, rather ostentatiously elbowed the older types out of the way on Long Island Sound and in the larger Massachusetts ports, many a veteran sea-toiler was still content to sail his round-bowed "jigger" or pinky, and even the "Chebaccoboat" was occasionally in evidence in some of the out-of-the-way coves "down East. Indeed, though these coves could not compete with the larger ports, many of them claimed distinction for what had been accomplished in their restricted limits. Through thrift and adventurous en

terprise not a few of them had attained marked success. In unsuspected nooks, lying cozily quiet under a declining summer sun, that threw shadows of wooded heights and rocky points upon the placid water, one came upon little piers, storehouses, and flake-yards, redolent of the odors that characterize the industry to which they were devoted, and it scarcely required further evidence to convey the information that here fares of fish were received, and cured by careful and experienced hands. If the vessels were not there, one instinctively knew that they were away at sea collecting finny treasures, and erelong the eyes of watching women-mothers, wives, sweethearts, and daughters-would be gladdened by returning sails, that swept gracefully into the home port and came to rest at the pier, while the hardy fishers disappeared through many devious paths - winding among bowlders and beneath balsamscented firs and pines-toward their cottage homes in the near vicinity.

The tragedies of the sea, that occasionally brought mourning and distress to those whose loved ones had gone forth to exact tribute from old ocean's liv ing wealth, were the dark shades of the picture. Nevertheless, these threw into

stronger light the general happiness, as well as the value of an industry that utilized nearly every vantage point, maintained a hardy coast population, built and navigated fleets of ocean-going vessels, boldly dared storm and calm, and contributed largely to the food-supply of the nation.

From early spring until the flying snowflakes of latest autumn surely indicated the departure of migratory species of fishes, the white wings of swift smacks were seen on every fishing-ground from Montauk to distant Labrador-on the dread George's, the great bank of Newfoundland, in the Gulf of St. Lawrence, usually called "The Bay," and off the shores of New England from Grand Manan to Cape Cod. Fleets followed the migrations of the mackerel with unwearied ardor; not infrequently the vessels gathered in immense numbers, covering the sea for miles, as they lay close together, drifting slowly to leeward while engaged in fishing. It was something to be long remembered to see a fleet varying from three hundred to eight hundred sail of schooners thus assembled, the majority of them nearly motionless, but a considerable number always on the move, driving along under full speed, seeking more favorable positions.

But it was vastly more exciting to see them when a rising storm compelled all to seek shelter in harbor. Think of a regatta in an on-coming gale, with hundreds of vessels racing for a given point! What rivalry! What seamanship was displayed! How sails were reefed and set in haste! How lee rails were buried, and lines of creamy foam streamed astern! And then came the critical moment, when scudding schooners crowded so closely in the narrow entrance to the haven that the most skilful management could not always avert collision. Broken spars, torn canvas, and crushed bulwarks were not infrequent mishaps on such occasions. Words can scarcely convey an adequate idea of such an experience. It was often like a battle, so great was the excitement in some sections of the fleet; but even the participants thought little of their hairbreadth escapes from danger when once they were safely anchored in port, for greater peril to those outside the harbor's friendly shelter was presaged in the fierce blasts of the rising tempest.

ness of the situation when such a fleet is caught in a sudden gale at night on a long lee shore where harbors are inaccessible-when the rush of the storm-demon intensifies the blackness, filling the air with mist and driving sea spume; when death stares each fisher in the face, and nothing can be done except to courageously meet the conditions and make a desperate attempt to work to windward, away from the dangerous breakers and foaming reefs that stretch along the lee beam for miles and miles--a nearly hopeless task, as too often has been proved. Neither pen nor tongue can tell the horrors of such an experience, when the long struggle for life is perhaps successfully maintained for many weary, sleepless hours, and then, even while hope is in the ascendant, the rending of canvas, the snapping of a bolt, or the breaking of an overstrained spar makes further effort unavailing, and the

DOWN-EAST FISHING-SCHOONER, OR PINKY.

strewn with broken wrecks and drowned or maimed fishermen.

Nevertheless, while such dread tragedies came occasionally, almost with paralyzing power, and though peril and loss of life have ever attended the prosecution of the winter fishery, for many years no other industry had so great an attraction for the young men of the New England coast as the fisheries.

Catching mackerel was the poetry of fishing. Ordinarily there was only dan ger enough to give zest to its prosecution, while the rivalry between vessels, and even between different individuals of a crew, had all the elements of sport, not to speak of the daily contests between competitors in speed among the clippers, with all the attendant manoeuvres for advantage which prove so enchantingly attractive to the yachtsman.

Each cove had its clipper that could outstrip others, at least in the opinion of its local champions, and each of the larger ports usually had several claimants to the honor of being the swiftest of the fleet. The fame of the more noted of these spread from end to end of the coast. The names of swift fishing-schooners became household words among the seafarers, and at many a fireside and grocery, from Eastport to New London, discussions of their respective merits divided attention with tales of big catches of fish.

Evidently there was a pride in the vessels and a reliance upon the industry, and though the returns sometimes failed to meet expectation-for the sea-harvest is an uncertain one at best-reasonable prosperity prevailed, and there were happy and contented homes along the shores of the Northeastern States, where in many cases fishermen spent their winters with their families, and some even deferred going to sea in spring until after "the planting was in." Then these farmerfishermen devoted the remainder of the season to the sea, leaving the gardening at home" to be attended to by the "women folks," or by boys too young to pull an oar or haul a line, unless perchance the sea-toiler had the opportunity between trips to hoe the potato-patch.

If Dame Fortune was chary of her smiles during the summer months, if a "Jonah" in the crew (always an unknown but suspected pariah) threw the shadow of his dread presence over the vessel, and "luck" deserted her in consequence, then the fish

erman sought employment elsewhere in winter. Perhaps he shipped on a coaster or West-Indiaman, or went to Gloucester to brave the dangers of winter trips to the George's Bank for cod; or possibly he formed one of the crew of a schooner that, having followed the mackerel during its season, was now engaged in transporting oysters from the Chesapeake Bay region to ports north of Cape Cod. Many avenues were open for employment, and actual want seldom confronted the thrifty and energetic fisher, even though he might meet with temporary ill fortune.

Such was the condition of the New England deep-sea fisheries at the middle of the present century, and immediately thereafter, when they had reached their highest degree of development, as the result of more than two centuries of effort, during which they had been subject to many perils and vicissitudes.

Naturally it might have been expected that they would continue to increase with the general growth of the country. But the opposite is true, and instead of progress, signs of decadence are too evident. With the exception of a few of the larger ports, where the industry of deep-sea fishing has gradually become centralized, industrial paralysis is nearly everywhere apparent, for it has fallen like a blight upon the small fishing-towns along the coast.

In coves from which formerly sailed brave fleets of schooners on their cruises to the distant banks or mackerel-grounds. little or nothing now remains to tell of their one-time consequence. Tumbledown store-houses that may still shelter a few lobster-pots; decaying piers, alongside of which perhaps one sees the superannuated hulk of a fish-freighter leaning against this last support, while incoming and outgoing tides run riotously through its gaping seams; or an old-time clipper, once the proud queen of the fleet, lazily reclining on the mud at the head of the cove, her bare leaning masts silhouetted against the sky-are some of the objectlessons that tell of departed glories and ruined industries. They are like the crumbling ruins of antiquity, which, in some measure, tell the history of the decadence of industries that prospered in other years.

It is true that occasionally one still meets with a remnant of former activity. Fishy odors sometimes float on the mid

summer air, as schooners discharge their fares of cod in quiet nooks, where the wharves of other years still suffice, and the renovated flake-yard is filled with wide-spreading, salt-encrusted fish, which now lie drying in the sun. And we know that erelong these products from distant banks will appear in many a far-away grocery as "boneless cod."

More commonly no one remains except lobster-men and perhaps a few pound-net fishermen, though sheltered behind some point and quite hidden from view one may come upon a "pogy-factory," where fish, supplied by steamers, are converted into oil and fertilizer, the wealth of the sea thus being drawn upon to enrich the soil. But the rule is that these fishing-hamlets have been invaded by "rusticators," who seek rest and recreation in summer along the coast, where their pretty cottages and pretentious hotels confront the less imposing homes of the fishermen, and constantly encroach upon territory once devoted to other purposes.

Fishermen often find profitable employment in catering to the wants of these summer visitants. And it is among the interesting phases of the change which has come to see bronzed skippers, who have dared every peril, now engaged in boat-building, or in "running" a cat-boat for the accommodation of pleasure-seekers. He whose word was once law on the quarter deck, who has rounded Cape Horn, and hunted whales in the icy North or among the palm-covered isles of the tropics, is now obsequiously solicitous for patronage. And the same is true of the rugged cod-fisher or other brine-hardened sons of the ocean, who in earlier days sought fortune in many seas, and led a life of self-reliance and independence.

What has wrought this change? Why has the deep-sea fishery industry fallen into such decay all along the New England coast, until it is no longer vigorously pursued except at a few ports? Why have erstwhile clippers been allowed to decay, or disappear sometimes, while yet sea

AN OLD TIME CLIPPER.

worthy, being left to lie deserted beside wharves? Why have their places been unfilled by other craft? And why is it that this industry, which is such a great nursery of American seamen-a trainingschool of inestimable importance to a nation that aspires to commercial or naval greatness-has been left to such a fate? These and many other similar questions may appropriately be asked. And it will be found far easier to make inquiries than to give correct and satisfactory answers. Most writers find in a temporary scarcity of certain species of fish the sole cause of all changes, and much that is misleading concerning fish and fishing has been published. But it is evident to the well-informed that the trouble lies deeper, and that there must be other reasons for a decline that is permanent, and which has been most noticeable in recent years, despite the most determined efforts to combat it. It is the purpose of the writer to invite attention to some of these causes of decadence, for he believes there are many. But in or der to present the subject more clearly, brief reference will be made to certain

historical facts bearing on the development of the deep sea fisheries.

Fishing was the earliest industry of New England. Years before the advent of the Pilgrims, ships came to its shores, and temporary settlements were effected in its sheltered coves and harbors, for no other purpose than to engage in the fisheries. The fame of its marine resources had reached Europe, and glowing accounts were spread abroad of the wealth to be gained from the waters that washed its coasts. The exiled Pilgrims, then residing in Holland, saw in this industry commercial possibilities that might make emigration to the New World a prosperous undertaking. History indicates that when the delegation from Leyden appeared before King James to solicit a charter, this thought was uppermost in the minds of the Pilgrim leaders. For when the King asked, "What profit may arise?" they laconically replied, "Fishing." In a few years after they settled in Massachusetts they despatched ships to England loaded with fish. Thus it is evident that the Pilgrim was disposed to improve the opportunities open to him.

Certain it is that of all sections of the colonies which subsequently became the United States, New England was early noted for its prominence in sea fishery. Not only did it supply a large percentage of the fish food eaten in America, but cargoes of fish, chiefly dried cod, were sent to southern Europe. Its fleets grew apace. Before the Revolutionary war Massachusetts had more than five hundred fishingvessels, and Marblehead alone had one hundred and fifty sea-going schooners engaged in fishing. As early as 1701 Glouces ter had a fleet of seventy vessels employed in the cod-fishery on the Grand Bank. In winter some of the largest schooners carried the products of their summer's fishing to Bilbao, Spain, and returned laden with European goods, that found a ready sale in the colonies. Thus a spirit of enterprise and adventure was stimulated, and many fishermen became expert traders, as well as skilful navigators.

In the mean time the schooner rig had been invented at Gloucester, Massachusetts, by a builder of fishing-vessels. His tory records that "Captain Robinson built