“We hope the same,” said Ray with a grin.
“Thank ’e, lad, thank ’e,” said Mitchell. Then he added, “’Eavens knows I need ’em. This ’ere is t’ sheddin’ season and hits t’ blimdest time o’ year ever fer hus lobster coves.”
“Shedding season?” said Jack. “Do lobsters shed their shells too? I thought only crabs did.”
“They’re t’ sheddinest fish as ever was,” said the lobsterman. “I’ve ’ad ’em shed over night on me. Put a lot o’ big uns in t’ lobster car one day an’ when I comes t’ wisit ’em t’ next day there’s ’alf o’ ’em just crawled hout o’ their shells. An’ they ain’t no good arter they’re shed neither. Just es soft es putty.”
“That’s mighty interesting,” said Jack. “Tell us something about lobsters, will you, Mr. Mitchell? How do they live? How fast do they grow? What do they—?”
“Tut, tut, not s’ fast, lad,” said Mitchell, holding up his hand. “Lobsters is pecooliar fish, seein’ ’as ’ow their chise allus runs t’ livin on rock bottom. Ye’ll never find a lobster as is livin’ hin water wi’ a sand bottom. They eats most heverythin’ too; that is heverythin’ what’s dead. Mostly they eats dead fish, an’ t’ best bait fer ’em is flounders. That’s what I baits my traps wi’. They’re ’eathens too; jest reg’lar cannibuls. I’m meanin’, by that, hif I puts three or four lobsters as ain’t got a little wooden plug stuck hin their nippers, hin my car together, why the next mornin’ I finds that they’ve chawed each other up in fine shape. Bite each other t’ pieces jest like cannibuls does.
“As fer growin’, why, lobsters grows habout a hinch er a hinch an’ a ’alf a year. When they sheds as ’ow I tol ye, why then t’ new shell as grows on ’em is habout a hinch too big for ’em; like a pair o’ daddy’s pants as is on a younker. Durin’ t’ year their body grows an’ fills hup t’ hinch o’ space, an’ next Summer they’re ready fer t’ shed and grow another hinch.
“When a lobster sheds ’e goes an’ crawls down hin t’ kelp an’ lives there ’till ’es shell grows hon agin. If ’e didn’t ’e’d get et hup by fishes as is lookin’ fer soft lobsters. In Maine ’ere we can’t take no lobsters what ain’t growed ten hinches long. Them’s called ‘counters.’ Nine hinch lobsters, what is sold in N’York and Bosting is called ‘Nippers’ and lobsters less ’en nine hinches is called just plain ‘bugs.’ An’ hif a Maine cove as catches lobsters ’as heny bugs hin ’es lobster car when Warden Williams come ’round ’e’s liable fer t’ get fined a dollar fer every one o’ ’em as is there.”
“Jiminy, is that so?” exclaimed Jack, who had been listening eagerly to all Mitchell had said. “How big do some lobsters grow?”
“Well, lad, an huncommon lobster is one as is seven or height pound, though I did see one as weighted twenty-seven pounds down Portland wi’ last time I went there. But when we gets a three or four pound lobster ’ere we don’t raise no ’oller habout bein’ cheated,” said the old salt dryly.