Life With A Fisherman
Chapter 3: The Smoker

Together, we cleaned the fish. It took hours to clean them We ran a knife up the bottom from one end to the other, leaving the head intact. As we cleaned them, we put the fish into a big wooden tray, where Mom would salt them. She rubbed the salt from one end to the other. “This is what helps keep them from spoiling,” she said. “We salt them, then we smoke them.” We worked through the night preparing the fish. I was exhausted. It had been a very long day and night. This was hard work. But Mom said we had to get it done so the fish didn’t spoil. Captain Ben fell asleep at the outdoor table. I unhitched the horse from his wagon a while ago. I knew he wasn’t able to make it home. He was a very old man, and he had had a long day. But he didn’t let that get in his way. I don’t know how he kept going. “OK,” mom shouted, “the fish are ready.” We had been working under the lanterns all night, and the sun was just starting to come up. We had hundreds of heron all salted and ready for the smoker. “Let’s get the smoker going,” Mom yelled. She had a huge smile on her face. I knew she was very tired, too. But those were the days. You just kept at it till you got it done.

Now the smoker was a sight to see. Mom smoked everything in it. From beef to fish, it all went into the smoker. Dad was in Edgartown with the crew repairing the sails for the ships. So it was up to us to get the smoker going and keep it going till the fish where done. And thist was a two-day cook. Now the smoker was the best on the island of Martha’s Vineyard, and my dad built it. It was built on a hill. The fireplace was dug in the ground and lined with brick. The chimney was underground and ran uphill into the bottom of a five-by-five building through a clay-tile flue pipe. The building was seven foot high. There was holes drilled out at the bottom of the little building and racks all over the place inside of it. The smoke traveled up the clay chimney into the building and filled it from the top down and breathed through the drilled holes. It was built out of apple tree boards that my dad cut. He built the whole thing himself.

And when I say we smoked everything in it, I mean everything. Once the fire starts, you have to keep it going until the smoking is done. Mom started running a rope through the gills of all the fish to string them all together. That’s why she left the head on. We hung all the fish from wall to wall in the smoker, then shut the door. “It’s time to get the fire going, Cappy,” she said. She built a fire in the pit, and we put some apple wood on for flavor. “Now every once in a while, throw some apple wood in the bucket of water and wet it good,” she said. “Then throw it into the fire for a good smoke taste.” Then she said the smoking was up to me. “I’m going to get some sleep,” she said. Mom was very tired and was leaving me in charge of the smoker. I was tired, too, but I was on pins and needles. I was very excited. It was my first time running the smoker, and I wanted to do it right.

Now Captain Ben was just starting to wake up. I remember looking at him and thinking he was a rugged old sea man. I wondered how he ended up on Martha’s Vineyard. So I asked him. Now you have to remember, I was 10 years old and Captain Ben was in his 90s. So that was around 160 years ago when he stepped foot on the rocks of the island. He shook off his sleep and asked for coffee. I made some up for him on the fire of the smoker. As he sipped his coffee, he said, “The year was 1848 I was a mate aboard the Barnacle. My, it was a fast-sailing ship. But not fast enough, for we encountered pirates off to our south. We were out of England and had been at sea for some 90 days or so. We were supposed to be coming to the Keys, but the storm took us here. The was no fighting the storm. The winds were blowing some 60 to 70 miles per hour, the waves were some 40-footers. We were in that storm for a good 10 days and nights. There was a ship off our south that was following us, I don’t think by choice. We made our way into the channel here, between the mainland and the point. now called Vineyard Haven. We were between the two lands and the storm was at rest. Our sails were in pieces and our mains all broke up from the winds. We were dead in the water, and that ship was approaching us . We had bounty in our bottoms, we were flying our English colors. The pirate ship was flying the skull and crossbones. I remember our Captain John yelling to fire at will. The guns were like thunder roaring, and the smoke from the powder was thick. We were outgunned and outmanned. The pirate ship was 10 feet from our side and 20 cannons firing at us for a good 20 minutes . The whole side of the ship was blown apart. While the guns fired, the ropes were flung onto our sinking ship, and the pirates were crossing the ropes and boarding our ship. All of my crewmates were slain; there were body parts everywhere. My arm was bleeding from where a piece of plank went through it. The ship called the Barnacle set on the shore in the harbor. I was the only one left alive. I remember two pirates holding me up in front of their captain. I’ll never forget that moment. He stunk of sweat. There was blood everywhere. All his men were pillaging the Barnacle of all it carried. They took everything they could find of worth. Then that captain put his sword into my neck. He shouted as he looked in my eyes, ‘I leave you, young lad, to bury your mates.’ They left as fast as they came, sailing back into the storm. S~ᴇaʀᴄh the Findɴovel.ɴet website on Gøøglᴇ to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.

I was just a young boy then, and I had my work cut out for me. I brought all my crewmates up and made them graves. Some are unnamed stones. It’s one of the oldest grave sites on the island, just off the water of the lagoon in the bluffs. I buried 35 mates that week, and as I stood over them, I swore to avenge their deaths. Someday, these pirates will pay for their dirty deeds. I hauled all the boards that I could salvage from the Barnacle and built my house. This has been the place I call home since that day. And young Cappy, some years later, I did just that. I went in search of those men. That’s how I became known as the mighty captain of the sea. That’s another story for another day.”

Then he got up from his chair, finished his coffee and said, “Finish your smoking, young Cappy. I’m going up to my house and finish the traps. When the fish are done, we will set the traps for the crawls.” And off he went. I remember thinking, “What a life this man has lived.” Well, hours passed as the fish were smoking, and Mom relieved me so I could get some well-needed sleep. I think I slept 12 hours. When I woke up, Mom was hanging the smoked fish in the root cellar for storage. We had enough heron for the hard winter to follow. My God, there was a lot of heron hanging. “Next month, we will make some jerky,” she said as she smiled.

I headed up the hill and Mom yelled, “Where ya going, Cappy?” “I’m off to lay crawl traps with the Captain.” And off I went. I still had no idea what a crawl was, but it didn’t matter to me. I figured I’d find out sooner or later.

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