Ted Russell "The Chronicles of Uncle Mose" LP

Now, the Chronicles of Uncle Mo. World literature is filled with courtroom dramas of considerable note, but none so dramatic as the one described now by Uncle Mo. In all the years that skipper Bob Kilik was magistrate along this shore, the shrewdest piece of court work he had to handle was the time when Uncle Salady stole the two holes from skipper Lig Bartle. Now what good you might say is two holes? Not much nowadays since most people give up keeping dogs. But years ago, well, how else can a man set a heronet on the dice? You cut two holes 8 or 10t apart. Tie a rope to one end of a flake longer. Poke it down through one hole and hook it up through the other with a handg. Oh yes, if you want to set a bigger net, you cut three holes or even four. But two holes was enough to serve Skipper Lodge Bartal's purpose that evening he was coming home down the arm on dog team from his rabbit slips. He chopped his two holes, then hurried home to get his net and a flake longer, so as to have it set and home again a forn night overtook him. He didn't even stop for a bite to eat. Just grabbed a pair of dry cuffs and was off again, a sprry man. But sprry as he was, Uncle Saul thought he was sprryer. Uncle Saul was already there and had just finished setting his net in Elijah's holes. Well, Lodge ordered Saul to take that net out of his holes. Saul said they was his cause cuz he'd found them. Lo said they was his cause cuz he chopped them. Well, Saul said, "Be that as night, he owned them now, cause possession was nine points of the law." Skipper Loge was a younger man than Uncle Saul and a bigger man. And if he hadn't been a churchgoing man besides, he said after as hell we he tied Uncle Saul to his own rope and reaved and down one hole and up through the other. As it was, he went home and he wired Skipper Bob Gillick the magistrate to come immediately or a bit quicker than that if it was possible. Skipper Bob wired back that he'd come and have court work in May when navigation opened. Public opinion was one-sided. Skipper Lodge was a respectable man, whereas Uncle Saul was the worst miserable hangy shore on the coast. And to make matters worse, Saul was doing real well with the heron, and even offered Skippo a meal for his Good Friday dinner. I can't repeat Skipper Elo's answer, but it made him feel so low that he didn't have the face to go to church on Easter Sunday. Well, pigeon inlet school was packed for court work when skipper Bob Kelly come on his rounds in May and he read out the charge of Uncle Saul had stolen the property of Skipper Lodge, namely and to it two holes. Then Uncle Saul, instead of having the common decency to confess what he'd done and take what was coming, had the impetence to look the magistrate right square in the face and say he didn't know whether he was guilty or not. And what he would like to know was what was the law concerning holes? Well, Skipper Bob was took right back for a minute and he said he allowed the law concern of holes was like the law concerning anything else. You mustn't steal them. Then Uncle Saul brazen never asked, "How could you steal a hole anyway?" And when Skipper Bob said, "What did he mean? How could you steal a hole?" Uncle Saul said, "Cause a hole." Well, a hole was nothing anyway. Only a hole. All this time poor Skipper Loge was there saying nothing but swelling up like a gut ready to bust. Then he said as though a hole might be nothing to the hanging shaw that stole it but was something to the man that had to chop it. But Skipper Bob called to order. So Lodge kept quiet, but he swelled bigger, if that was possible, until Skipper Bob ruled that on his first point, Uncle Saul had lost out, and the hole was something. "All right, then," said Uncle Saul, "I only buried the use of his holes, never intending to keep them, and now we can have them back again." Skipper Lloyd said the holes was drove out the bay when the ice went out, but Uncle Saul maintained that holes was only fresh air and water. and they were still up there in the arm and lodge could have them and 10,000 welcomes. Well, Skipper Bob had to call a 15-minute recess on that. But after it was over, he come back and he ruled as her uncle Saul was wrong on account of her in what he called the common law. A hole couldn't be a hole unless there was a edge around them. Then Uncle Saul tried his last dodge. He said as how a man couldn't steal anything without shifting it from where he'd found it in the first place and that he hadn't shifted these holes in inch. Skipoid said no Saul hadn't shifted them not cause he wouldn't but cause he couldn't and if he could have he'd slung the two holes over his back quick enough and gone off with them. Uncle Saul said be that was at night the fact was he hadn't shifted them and on that point skipper Bob Kilik the magistrate had to agree with him. He gave his verdict that although Uncle Saul hadn't actually stole the holes he had trespassed on them and he asked Uncle Saul what he had to say before a sentence was passed. Well, Uncle Saul said right cheerful like that if all he done was to trespass against Skipper Lodge. No doubt Skipper Loy as a churchgoing man would be only too ready to forgive those including Uncle Saul who had trespassed against him. And Skipper Loge bust right out then for sure. And he said he'd forgive Uncle Saul when Uncle Saul give him back his holes, edges and all. And with that Skipper Bob delivered his judgment. He ordered Uncle Saul to cut two holes the following winter in the same place for Skipper Loge to set his eronet in. And that was the end of it as far as the law was concerned. Of course, Uncle Saul got the best of it in the long run. But that's another story. And like Skipper Bob, his own self said the following summer after he'd heard the outcome, he doubted very much if even the Supreme Court could do much to cure a hangyshore like Uncle Sali, cuz he was one miserable angshore, if ever there was one. Today I'm going to try to tell you about the trouble that broke out not long ago between Aunt Sophie and King David. That's Jetro's Billy Goat. First of all though, I'd like to say that opinion is divided here in Pigeon Inlet as to which one of them is in the right. And if there could be a vote on it, I wouldn't be surprised but what King David had go in with a sweeping majority. Personally, he'd win my vote because even though I got a high regard for Aunt Sophie, still right is right and wrong is no man's right. Here's another funny thing. I've read or heard somewhere how a fellow said one time that this life was like a big wheel always turning over. So that what was on top now would be sure to end up on the bottom sometime later on. Well, whoever said that never spoke a truer word cuz look what's happened now. Only two year ago, I had caused to abuse King David for stealing me cabbages, and Aunt Sophie took his part and was on the out with me for weeks about it. Now she's mad with King David. And in all fairness, I had to take his part this time, and she's on the outs with me again. Well, here's what happened. Up till a year or two ago, Aunt Sophie used to keep three or four sheep. Then she give it up. like she told me it was too much trouble for a woman when there was no man around the place. Well, ever since then she's had a little problem about what to do with her potato scraps. She used to save them in a little bucket in her back porch and every Monday morning she'd put them out. Well, King David got to know Monday morning just as well as if he had an almanac to go by. I don't know how he figured it, but he did. It wasn't by the clothes on the lines cuz even on rainy Mondays he'd be there just the same. And when Aunt Sophie had put the bucket of scraps outside her back door, he'd just say whatever Gracie says and dig in. Aunt Sophie said afterwards, trying to defend herself, that she used to notice he was there. All she said she'd do was put out the bucket full and take it in empty an hour or two later. Well, that might be. But one thing for sure, if she didn't know, King David did. And it got so we used to look forward to it every Monday morning. Well, three Sunday nights ago, coming home from church, Emma Jane Bartle happened to tell Aunt Sophie how hard it was to get food for her three sheep. And Sophie promised to run across next morning with her bucket of potato scraps. And so next morning with poor King David all ready to ask whatever blessing goats do ask, Aunt Sophie went right by him with the bucket right over to Emma Jane Sheep's house. The only time she looked back was to admire her lovely wash that she had out on the line that fine Monday morning. She says she didn't even notice that King David was there. She noticed them on the way back, though. First thing she spied was the big gap in her line of clothes where her best tablecloth had been hanging. Next thing she noticed was King David trottting off down the road, towing the tablecloth along behind him through the mud and the slush. So, Aunt Sophie went wing and wing after him. I missed that part of it myself, but Sam Prior told me afterwards that when they passed along by his place was something worth seeing. and Sophie said, "Put him in mind of the old Paulina in the song." He was looking out to the window. And he hurried and put his boots and cap to chase him, but when he got there, it was too late. What seems to have happened was this. And Sophie got close enough to tread on the rear end of the tablecloth, and that of course brought King David up into the wind facing her. But he didn't let go. Well, she scooped up a mixture of mud in her hand and hovered at him. Now, any school boy in pigeon inlet could have told her that was the wrong thing to do, but by this time she'd lost her temper, and then she made the biggest mistake of all. She looked round for a rock and spied one just behind her. So, she turned around to pick it up. to stuck into the ground. So while she was trying to prize it loose with her fingers, King David had plenty of time to survey the situation and figure out what he could do to vent his spider out on Sophie for throwing the mud at him. Grandpa Walcott often says that an old man looks back at the happy days when he was young and wishes he could have the same chances over again. Well, I imagine the same thought was in King David's head when he viewed Aunt Sophie with her back turned, trying to pick up that rock. To him, it must have looked like his happiest days had come back again, and he'd better not miss this golden opportunity. According to Sam Prior, who was just too late to save her, King Davyy didn't hit her hard, just nudged her enough to topple over so that the crown of her head, pin curls and all, went into the mud. And it took Sam all he could do with his brother Joe's help to straighten her up. It was only then that those of us who were down at Skipper Joe's net loft found out about it. from here an Sophie expressing her opinion of King David and Jet Ronari and the community council and a few other things that come into our mind. Whatever trouble we might have making a Canadian out of Pete Briggs, the same can't be said about Skipper Joe Irwin. Boy, even before Confederation, Skipper Joe used to say how it would be a good thing, even though he never seemed sure what had be good about it. And after we got it, he figured that the higher taxes on his backy and fishing supplies was just about offset by the family allowances for his two youngest. And for that, he said he was thankful. But he wanted to be more than just thankful. He wanted to be proud. He's that kind of a man. I'll never forget the day when Skipper Joe first found something to be proud of in his new citizenship. Almost four years ago, it was a Sunday afternoon. We were sitting in my kitchen, just the two of us, me being a bachelor. He says he loves to come here to get away from the women and the youngsters, to find a bit of what he calls peace and quiet. He was in his stocking feet cuz his Sunday shoe was pinched. And I happened to turn on the radio, expecting to hear a word of prayer, or perhaps a hymn. When what should we hear Sunday and all as it was? But this hockey game with a fellow all worked up telling us all about it and a lot of people in the background almost as excited as he was. Yes, a hockey game. Well, in spite of it being Sunday, I didn't like to switch it off while Skipper Joe appeared interested. So, we listened and the game was between a crowd of Russians and a crowd of Canadians from British Columbia. Well, I said that as far as I was concerned, Russia and British Columbia was about the same distance from Pigeon Inlet. But Skipper Joe reminded me that was Canada we joined up with four years before. So we kept on listening and before long we found another reason for siding with the Canadians. Why even their names sounded homelike like our own. Now the Russians they had outlandish names like Bob off and knock them off and push them off things like that. Whereas the Canadians why there was one fellow there named Warrick spray too and skipper Joe said he'd be bound. Why he'd bet his compass that fellow was related to Uncle Tom Warrick from Rumble Cove just down the shore. Uncle Tom had a brother that went away to the harvest fields 40 years ago. And Uncle Tom is still expecting them back as soon as he saves up his passage money. But now with his boy playing on this hockey team, it looks like he'll bite up there after all. Anyway, me and Skipper Joe found ourselves getting excited and cheering for Canada and of course for Rumble Cove whenever this war did something smart. Then they stopped to take a spell and I said to Skipper Joe, "How perhaps we ought to call out the Grandpa Walcott to come over and hear the game." Now Grandpa lives just across the road. He was 83 at the time, and Saturday night hockey is past his bedtime. So Skipper Joe said, "No, Grandpa wouldn't understand it anyway." You see, Grandpa's no authority on local matters like fish and weather and prices. But since Confederation, there's so much crowding in on him at once, he gets confused over what he hears from foreign parts. Like one blowy evening the fall before, he'd heard something on the radio and he went all around Pigeon Inlet, saying how polio was spreading something awful up in the United States cuz he just heard 40,000 people screeching their poor heads off, burned up in a place called the polio grounds. So we decided not to disturb Grandpa and me and Skipper Joe listened by ourselves till it was over. And the Canadians got the best of it. Five to nothing, I think it was. And Skipper Joe said, "How at last, after four or five year, he'd found something to make him downright proud to be a Canadian." But just then the door opened, and who should come in but Grandpa Walcott, all out of breath, trying to tell us what a wonderful thing he just heard on the radio. and out erosions as he called them had given the Canadians awful beaten. Well, he tried to explain to him that it was the other way round and grandpa said skipper Joe. Sure. Didn't you hear the announcer telling about young Warrick, Uncle Tom Warrick's nephew from Rumble Cove? Yes, said Grandpa did I did, and a spray young fellow he was too. Most a spray as Uncle Tom was in his prime. But said grandpa, he wasn't half as sprry as that Russian fellow. What Russian fellow? said I can't recall his name, said Grandpa. It was an outlandish name anyhow. Was it Bob off? said I. No, not he, said Grandpa. Well, then we tried him with push him off and kick him off, but he shook his head. Then, ah, he said. Now I remember. Who? Said I. Face off, said Grandpa. That was his name. Face off. Why? said Grandpa. He was 10 times spired and young Warrick. Why? One minute face off would be down in one end, the next minute he'd be down in the other end, and before he could blink, there'd be face off smack out in the middle. And another thing, said Grandpa, he had good wind. This face off, the others would have to stop every few minutes to take a spell. But he bited out there all the time. Well, there was no use trying to explain hockey to grandpa at his age. So, we contented ourselves with telling them how it was his duty as a Canadian to cheer for his own side. He agreed a bit dubiously, though, and he hoped the Canadians had managed to convert face off and get him to be a Canadian, too. He said, cuz if they kept on playing this hockey, the time had come when they'd surely need him. If there's one sure proof the times are getting more civilized than they used to be, it is the way business has carried on nowadays. Well, years ago, according to Grandpa Walcott, was something awful. And to prove his point, a thing which Grandpa's always ready and willing to do, he tells this story about how he got the pair of soil skin slippers that he's been wearing now for non 30 years. Of course, he's had three new pair of soles and two new pair of uppers in them during that time, but they're the same pair of slippers. And he likes to treasure them because he says they remind him of the one and only time he ever got the better of old Joe Sia Bartle, who was the merchant here 30 years ago. And even then, he said he'd never got him, only for a thing called algebra. And when I asked him what in the world algebra was, he said he didn't know, but it must be a wonderful fine thing. Sure enough, to help a poor man like him get the better of a shrewd old bird like Josiah Bartle. It was long about the middle of April in 1931, says Grandpa, when Liz, his Ms. That's Grandma, told him the molasses keg was empty and he better go down to Josiah's store and get some. Grandpa wondered how he'd pay for it. Cost was too early in the spring to get credit on next summer's account, and he certainly didn't want to disturb the bit of gold he had in the sock. It was then Liz reminded them of his two soil skins. True, one of them had some shot holes in them, but the other was perfect, and between them they ought to fetch enough lassie to tide them over till credit time. So taking his empty keg and the two soil skins, off he went. Now Skipper Josiah the merchant was glad to see him, business being what it was that time of the year, and told Grandpa how lassie was current price, a dollar a gallon. Likewise, swilkins skkins was current price, a dollar a skin. Grandpa asked him, "What about shot holes?" And Josiah told him they was current price, too. 10 cents off for every shot hole. Well, Grandpa didn't need any learning to figure he ought to get a gallon for the good skin and a part of a gallon for the shot hole he won. So, when Jo saw come back from the inside where he kept these spoil skins and lassie and things like that and said right friendly like, "Here you are, Ben. There's your keg with your half gallon of lassie." Grandpa was took a back and said it ought to be more than a half a gallon. Well, Josiah rubbed his hands friendlier than ever and said, "No, half a gallon was exactly right." You see, he said, "Two spoil skins at a dollar each was $2. Then 15 shots in one of them at 10 cents a shot. That was $1.50. Take that off of the $2 and you had 50 cents left and with lassie a dollar a gallon here was his half gallon. Now grandpa knowed there was something wrong. He said there was no shot hole at all in one of them and he asked Joe Sawyer to give him a gallon for that one and give him back the holy one. But Josiah explained how we couldn't do that because the two skins went together in what was called in business a package deal where the good points of the one had to offset the bad points of the other. Then grandpa wanted to call the whole thing off and go home again with his two skins and his empty keg. But Josiah said no. Business was business and what was done couldn't be undone. Oh my. the business world and never know where it stood. Then grandpa made a remark, but Josiah threatened the law on him for it. So all that was left for him to do was to go home. Now when Lizz's Mrs. Grandma that is now, tipped up the keg that night to fold the molassie dish, she noticed there wasn't much in it. So she wormed the story out of Grandpa and give him 24 hours to go back to Josiah and get his rights or else she'd do it. Of course, a thing like that had disgraced Grandpa completely. So he spent nearly all that night lying awake thinking up a scheme. Next morning he had it and he went over Uncle Finn Prior to get his help and carrying it out. And Uncle Finn was only too glad to do it. And so the upshot was late that evening grandpa visited Josiah's store and Finn Py with two or three more had just started an argument about the big profits merchants made. They asked grandpa's opinion and he went even further than the rest and said yes merchants often sold things for 10 times what they paid for them. Well, Josiah got mad and he poked his snout right into the trap. He told grandpa he'd be glad to sell anything he had for 10 times what he paid for it. All right, then said grandpa, sell me back that soil skin that got the 15 shot holes in it. Well, what a holly below. Everybody wanted the particulars and they all agreed Josiah hadn't paid nothing for it. So being as though 10 times nothing was nothing, Josiah was bound by his word of a man to give it back to grandpa for nothing. Now if Josiah give in right then, he'd have been better off. But he couldn't bear to get the worst of it. So he said he wouldn't be guided by people with less book learning even than he had. And then who should come in but the school master? And they put the thing square up to him. Answers Grandpa, it was the school master that brought up this business about algebra. According to algebra, said the school master, Josiah hadn't just paid nothing for the swilk skin with the holes. He'd paid 50 cents less than nothing because he took off 50 cents from the good one on account of it. Now algebra called that a minus50 and 10 times that was a minus $5 which again according to algebra meant that Josiah had to give grandpa back the skin and $5 besides well Josiah was fit to be tied. He said that Marky's words algebra someday it'd be the ruin nation of business but he gave grandpa back the skin and the $5 besides and grandpa went home happy. Liz wasn't so happy though. She said if that was what algebra was like was no better than bingo. And she made grandpa give the $5 to the church organ fund. But you let him keep the soil skin and that's what he made the pair of slippers out of that he wears to this very day. He calls him his algebra slippers. And he says that whatever algebra is, there's no doubt about it is a true friend to the poor man. After hearing the unkind remarks that Grandpa Walcott passed about the stupidity of such animals as the rabbit and the beaver, you might get the idea he's a man with no respect for dumb animals at all. But don't get them wrong. You should hear him talk about what he calls genuine animals. Ones that any upand cominging country like Canada might well be proud of to have as their national animal. Take for example the dog hood. Now there's an animal with character. Why a dog hood will sit there on a pan of ice all day long minding his own business. Leave him by and he'll do as much for you. But molest them and see what happens. That is if you live to tell about it. Grandpa says he's heard tell about animals in foreign parts that have been known to fight till they're dead. But the dog hood is different. Well, he'll fight after he's dead. Skipper Loge Bartle out spoiling one morning years ago shot and peltied one just after daylight. And coming back that way late in the evening, the carcass of that old dog hoodie head snapped at him. And if Skipper Lo hadn't been soary, he'd have lost a piece off his starboard leg. Or take King David as Jetroy's Billy Goat. He got his name from a clergyman that was here one time who watched that billy goat jumping fences and christened them King David after a character in the Psalms who used to be good at jumping over walls. And when you remember that that clergyman went away from here in the First World War, it'll give you some idea about King David's age. Naturally, he's through with jumping fences now and is what you might call past his labor. But what dignity and even today if you throw something at him and then bend over with your back turned to him like Aunt Sophie did that time after King David took her best tablecloth off her clothesline. And uh but that's a story in itself and is not the one I started to tell in the first place. The noblest animal of them all says grandpa is the bull moose. And to prove his point he tells the story about skipper Jonathan Briggs as Pete Briggs's father and the experience he had one time with a bull moose. Now grandpa's not sure about the exact date. All he's sure of is that there was no war on at the time because the price of fish was low and times were bad. So he figures it was between 45 and 50 years ago when Skipper Jonathan was in his prime. The spryest man with the longest legs that pigeon inlet ever produced. Well, this day according to Grandpa Skipper Jonathan had an awful longing for meat. Naturally, of course, with times bad, there was only credit for flour and molasses, and was the wrong season for tur. But he figured if he took his muzzle loader and walked the two-mile across Gash into the low woods, he might spy a rabbit or something that might help keep body and soul together. So off he went, muzzle loader, powder horn, shot and all. Now, as everybody knows, the shore to the Nared between here and Hartley's Harour is awful and rugged with cliffs about 200 ft high in a sheer drop to the beach below. There's not a tree to be seen all along that stretch of cliff, except one old pine tree right on the edge about a mile to the nar of here. Nowadays, with the frost eating away the cliff every spring, that old tree is hanging out over the water and likely to fall anytime, but in those days was standing straight up right on the edge of that precipice with the lowest limb about 20 ft off the ground. Well, according to Grandpa's story, Skipper Jonathan left Pigeon Inlet that morning, followed the dog team trail along the edge of the cliff till he got to that old pine tree. Then, taking his beer from it, he turned off and headed straight across Gulmash towards the woods. Oh, about two mile back. He stopped just before he got to the scrub timber and put about four fingers in his muzzle loader, just about the right load for a rabbit. He put a cap on the nipple and went in about half a gunshot. When what should he almost bump into a headon but this bull moose for size like he'd never seen before or even heard tell off and so close he could almost reach out and touch him with the muzzle of the gun. And then as Skipper Jonathan often admitted afterwards he got excited and lost his head. He upgun and fired right into that bull moose's face. although he should have known that four fingers had have about the same effect on that animal as a handful of pepper. Well, the moose shook his head, give a snort, and took towards him, and Skipper Jonathan scooted out of that clump of trees in a hurry, and headed back across Gulmash with the bull moose right on his heels. The mash was dry, so Jonathan made good going, but so did the moose. Jonathan looked back once, but what he saw didn't look too pleasant, so he holed away his gun and settled down to running. He said after that he remembered seeing a rabbit or two on the mash, but they got out of the way to let somebody run as no, and then skipper Jonathan remembered an awful thing. He was headed straight for the cliff with a 200 ft drop and sure death ahead of him and that bull moose which was even worse right behind him. But then he thought of something else, a hope, that old pine tree straight ahead on the edge of the cliff. But the limb, the lowest one, 20 foot off the ground. Could he jump up to it? Well, just then the moose snorted right down the back of his neck. So he opened his throttle right to the last notch. The tree was just ahead. He judged his distance, not 20 foot from the edge of the cliff, and he jumped with his hands above his head and his fingers stretched out, hoping to clutch that limb. Did he clutch it, says Grandpa? No. Sad to say, he missed it. Missed it on the way up, that is. But fortunately, he grabbed it on the way down. And that bull moose went through the air below him like he was shot from a gun and tumbled right down among the rocks in the land wash. And Skipper Jonathan worked his way along that limb to the trunk of the pine tree, got down on the ground and had that moose dressed and brought home to pigeon inlet in a boat before dark that evening. That animal, said Grandpa, dressed, 1100 lb, and the authorities in St. John's when they heard it reported to them wired skipper Jonathan to distribute the meat among the poor families of pigeon inlet. Well said grandpa everyone is poor at a time like that. So it was cut and come again in every house and pigeon inlet for the next week or two. What an animal killed awful too. Yes said grandpa. If I had my way, the bull moose would be the national animal of Canada, and every pigeon in letter had be proud then to be a Canadian. Tall are the tales that fishermen tell when summer's work is done. Of fish they caught, of birds they've shot, of crazy risks they've run. But never did a fisherman till a tale so tall be a half a mile. As Grandpa Walcott told that night in the smoke room on the Kyle with Becky smoke from 20 pipes the atmosphere was blue. There was many I have another boy and don't mind if I do. when somebody suggested that each in turn should spin a yarn about some circumstance he'd personally been in. Then tales were told of gun barrels bent to shoot around the cliff, of men thought out and brought to life that had been frozen stiff, of bark pots carried off by flies, of pathways chopped through fog, of Uncle Bill who barefoot kicked the knots from a 12-in log. The loud applause grew louder when Uncle Mickey Shay told of the big potato he'd grown in Gander Bay. Too big to go to the cell door. It lay at rest nearby until one rainy night that fall the pig drowned in its eye. But meanwhile, in a corner, his gray head slightly bowed, sat Grandpa Walcott, 84, the oldest of the crowd. Upon his weatherbeaten face, there beamed a quiet grin when someone shouted, "Grandpa, it is your turn to chip in." "Boys, leave me out," said Grandpa. "Thanks. Don't mind if I do." "Well, all right, boys, if you insist. I'll tell you one that's true. It's a story about jigging squids, I'm going to relate, that happened in pigeon inlet in 1888. Me, I was just a bedr of fishing with me dad. And prospects for the summer were looking awful bad. The Capellan skull was over. It hadn't been too bright. And here was August come and gone and nar squid in sight. Day after day we searched for squids till dark from the crack of iron. We dug up clams and and hens till even these were gone. And still no squids. So in despair we give it up for good and took our gear ashore and went a cotton firewood. Well one morning we were in the woods with all the other men and wondering if we'd ever see another squid again. Father broke his ax that day, so we were the first ones out. And as we neared the land wash, we heard the women shout, "Come hurry, boys! The squids is in." We jumped aboard our boat and started out the harbor, the only crew afloat. But soon our ke began to scrunch like scraping over skids. "Father, says I, we've run. me son say squids say he a haven out and quick as a flash I did and soon as it struck the water to was grateful be a squid Ien in and what do you think just as he crossed the rail I'm blessed if there wasn't another squid clung to the first one's tail and another clung to that one and so on in a string I tried to shake him loose but father said a foolish thing. You've got something was never seen before in Newfoundland. So, drop the grab the string, and pull hand over hand. I pulled that string of squids aboard till the boat could hold no more. Then we hitched it in the risens and rode for the shore. The crews were coming from the woods. They'd heard the women ball. But father said, "Don't hurry, boys. We've squids enough for all. So Uncle Jimmy took the string until he had enough. Then neighbor like he handed it on to skipper Levi Cuff. From stage to stage that string was passed throughout the whole night long till daylight found it on Eastern Point with Uncle Billy Strong. Now Uncle Bill quite thoughtfully before he went to bed took two half inches of that string round the grump on his stage head. Next morning, Hartley's Arbor heard the news, and up they come in a trap skiff with three pair of oars to tow the string down home. When Artley's Arbor had enough the following afternoon, that string went on from place to place until it reached Carpon. Now, what happened to it after that, I don't exactly know, but people say it crossed the straits and ended in forto. Yes. Tall are the tales that fishermen tell when summer's work is done. Of fish they've caught, of birds they've shot, of crazy risks they've run. But never did a fisherman tell a tale so tall be a half a mile, as Grandpa Walcott told that night in the smoke room on the Kyle.