Anthony on a journey North.

With fifty-odd people aboard, and a long trail of nineteen fishing
boats we eventually got back to Indian Harbour, where every one joined
in helping our friends in misfortune till the steamer came and took
them South. They waved us farewell, and, quite undismayed, wished for
better luck for themselves another season.

The case of one skipper is well worth relating as showing their
admirable optimism. He was sixty-seven years old, and had by hard
saving earned his own schooner--a fine large vessel. He had arranged
to sell her on his return trip and live quietly on the proceeds on his
potato patch in southern Newfoundland. His vessel had driven on a
submerged reef and turned turtle. The crew had jumped for their lives,
not even saving their personal clothing, watches, or instruments. We
photographed the remains of the capsized hull floating on the surf.
Yet this man, in the four days during which he was my guest, never
once uttered a word of complaint. He had done all he could, and he
"'lowed that t' Lord knew better than he what was best."

"But what will you do now, Skipper?" I asked.

"Why, get another," he replied; "I think them'll trust me."

One of our older vessels started a plank in a gale of wind in the
Atlantic and went to the bottom without warning. In an open boat for
six days with only a little dry bread and no covering of any sort, the
crew fought rough seas and heavy breezes. But they handled her with
the sea genius of our race; made land safely at last, and never said a
word about the incident. On another occasion two men, who had been a
fortnight adrift, had rowed one hundred and fifty miles, and had only
the smallest modicum of food, came aboard our vessel. When I said,
"You are hungry, aren't you?" they merely replied, "Well, not
over-much"--and only laughed when I suggested that perhaps a month in
the open boat might have given them a real appetite.

One October, south of St. Anthony, we were lying in the arm of a bay
with two anchors and two warps out, one to each side of the narrow
channel. The wind piled up the waters, much as it did in Pharaoh's
day. We were flung astern yard by yard on the top of the seas, and
when it was obvious that we must go ashore, we reversed our engines,
slipped our line, and drove up high and dry to escape the bumping on
the beach which was inevitable. There we lay for days. Meanwhile I had
taken our launch into the river-mouth and was ma