“I think I remember reading somewhere about how, when a lobster loses a leg or a claw a new one begins to grow on immediately. Is that so?” asked Jack.
“Right an’ so lad, right an’ so. I’ve ketched ’em as ’ad one claw which is a big one and t’other which ain’t ’alf as big, en I’ve seen big lobsters wi’ a couple of little small legs as looks ri-dic’lus, too.”
“The Winter season is the best, isn’t it, Mr. Mitchell?” said Ray.
“T’ best for ketchen ’em, but hit ain’t t’ best weather t’ be hout a-hauling hof t’ traps. Why, lads, sometimes hits been s’ cold as me nippers ud freeze fast t’ me ’ands and many’s t’ time I’ve ’ad t’ hang me whiskers ower t’ back o’ a chair near the fireplace when I got ’ome so’s t’ git t’ hice outen ’em.”
The mental picture of the old lobsterman sitting with his beard hanging over the back of the chair tickled the lads, and they roared with laughter, much to the amusement of the one-legged fisherman.
“Lobstering is mighty good sport though,” said Ray. “I’ve been out with the fellows down Ascog way and had a heap of fun. The lobstermen down that way are bad ones though, and they are constantly getting into trouble with one another. They have regular feuds sometimes; the French Canadians and the Yankees. I remember Uncle Vance telling a story once of how one fellow planted a half dozen lobster traps near an island and then hid behind a rock until he saw one of his rivals, a French Canadian, haul one of his traps. He blazed away at him from shore with a rifle he’d taken out there, and the Frenchman shot back with a revolver. They had a hot time until the Frenchman got hit in the knee.”
“Them ’air Cannucks is t’ natchralest lobster piruts as ever was,” said Mitchell with emphasis.
Thus did the crew of the Betsy Anne chat as they sailed here and there in the water north of Hood Island while Old Mitchell dropped his twenty-odd lobster traps overboard. The lobsterman explained, as he finished this task, that these were merely by way of trying out the new location, and that if it proved a good fishing ground he would shift a hundred or more traps north of the island. This amount he said was about one-third of the total number he owned. He also assured the lads that three hundred lobster traps were about as many as one could handle conveniently and that some lobstermen limited their string to half that number.
By high noon the old sailor had deposited all of his traps and was headed back toward the island. Past the northern end they sailed and down the west coast. In the lee of the island the ocean was a great deal calmer, for the mighty currents that swept the other side did not reach them. The shore did not seem as rocky either, and sandy beaches were quite numerous.
When they reached the extreme southern end the lads saw a large cove, and on the shore, above a short sandy beach, the neatest little cottage they had ever set eyes upon.