(upbeat music) - [Marshall Dodge] It was in the early twenties when we did our lobstering from a Friendship sloop.

We also used the vessel to hunt turkeys.

Every fall, we would sail out to the offshore islands where turkeys were plentiful.

In the fall of 21, we sailed to Hog Island in Muscongus Bay, nosed our sloop against the shore, and started rounding up the turkeys with our turkey hunting dogs.

We corralled them turkeys onto the boat.

So they perched all over the deck on the cabin and even on the spars.

We stapled their feet to the decks but we forgot one turkey.

And he must have been in the head man.

He was perched on the tip of the bow spread.

He flapped his wings, let out a squawk, gobble, gobble, and took off.

Then there was a terrible commotion among the other birds.

A squawking, gobble gobble, and a flappin' their wings.

Then the boat commenced a shuddering.

And we jumped a shore in the nick of time.

When we looked back our vessel had taken off in the direction of Ireland.

You know, if we'd stayed aboard that sloop, we would've beaten Lindbergh by six years.

(gentle music) My name is Marshall Dodge.

Though I am a native and resident of the city of New York, the state of Maine is closer to my heart.

It was 15 years ago that I started delving into Maine humor.

Since that time I have worked to put out six records of down east stories and have performed them from Maine to Texas.

I'm going to tell you some Maine stories.

Some of them have been told to me, some I have come upon in books, and some I have made up myself.

All of the stories reflect the spirit of old Maine and all are stories, not jokes.

They end gently with a poke rather than a punch.

And most have a message that lives on through many tellings.

Burt and I come down to the dock about six o'clock in the early morning.

Burt went into the boathouse to fetch the pots and the slickers.

And I went down on the dock to start up the Bluebird.

It was pretty cold as I stepped into the cockpit to loosen her up with a few turns.

(Marshall imitates engine) That confounded bulldog engine.

You know the old bulldogs are make and break and it's kind of hard to start it.

So I gave it a few minutes to rest a bit.

Seems to start better when you rest it.

I advanced the spark, gave it a bit more choke, and a wee bit more throttle and started in again in earnest.

(Marshall imitates engine) Well, so I got it started.

Burt come down on the dock with the pots and the slickers.

"Throw 'em aboard, Burt."

(Marshall imitates thudding) He threw 'em aboard.

"Cast off the bow, Burt."

He cast off the bow.

He cast off the stern, loose the Springer, hopped aboard, gave the dock a shove with the buttock, and the Bluebird slithered out into harbor.

(Marshall imitates engine) Well, so we hit on number two about on schedule.

When we could feel a cold breeze coming in off the ocean, late in with humidity.

(Marshall imitates wind) That was a breeze.

(audience laughs) And as you could tell, laden with humidity.

Who ah, whoo ah.

That were all greasy frog light, three miles to starboard, giving off its signal twice every 30 seconds.

And along the horizon we could see a dark ominous looking cloud, it were a fog bank.

And it weren't but five minutes before we were in a dungeon of the stuff.

So thick, you couldn't stir it with a spoon.

I told Burt to cut engine so as we could listen for the Bangor Packet about do through at that time.

"Cut engine, Burt."

(Marshall imitates engine) Burt cut engine.

(Marshall imitates engine) God for mighty, that with a Bangor Packet about a half mile to starboard.

"Give a blast to the horn, Burt."

(Marshall imitates horn) (Marshall imitates engine) That with a Bangor Packet, a quarter mile to starboard and bearing down at a good 10 knot clip straight for the Bluebird.

"Give another blast to the horn, Burt."

(Marshall imitates horn) That were a good one, but it weren't good enough for outta the fog about an eighth of a mile to starboard come the Bangor Packet, coming along at a good 10 knot clip.

(Marshall imitates horn) The Packet smuck the Bluebird about mid ships and drove on through a like green corn goes through the new maid.

The water come up to our necks before we decided to swim for it.

I dove down about a fathom or so so to avoid the two whirring propellers of the Packet as she went our top.

(Marshall imitates engine) I come up to the side and cried out, "Burt!

Are you there?"

Well, there was no answer so I thrashed about in the water till I struck upon a hard object about a foot or beneath the surface.

I reached down, grabbed hold, pulled it up, and it were Burt, only he were half drowneded.

So I held on to him until by some stroke of luck the tide carried us alongside a Bell Boy.

I climb atop, pulled up Burt beside me, emptied him out.

And we were near dry as two wishbones for the time fishing smack spiders come up alongside and brung us back into Kennebunkport, Maine.

Now I wish to extend an invitation to all you find people gathered here this evening, so that if you're ever down long coast round Kennebunkport, and if you want to go fishing, swimming, or just plain sight seeing, you can always do any one or all three of them things aboard the Bluebird two with Burt and I. Cutler, Cutler Harbor.

That's where I was born and raised, lived there all my days, man and boy, following the sea.

Well, I say following the sea, ain't never done much blue water sailing, mostly just coasting.

You see me and me nephew, Willy and me.

We got a boat, a little jib and mainsail boat, the Nancy and Betsy.

We don't carry no hands.

We really don't need no hands.

'Cause though the mainsail is kind of heavy for Willy and me, we just ease the peak and let the mainsail flap.

Now you'd think that we'd know every ripple and reef from Eastport to Kittery, but you know I recollect we was taking on a deck load of lumber down to Chase's Wharf and transportin' to Ram Island.

And we got in there off Goat Head about noon time.

When they come a hail from shore.

It seems they was having a hair setting party, what you might call a christening.

Well, we hauled in closer up under the head there and dropped anchor.

We lowered the jib, but we didn't have to lower the mainsail 'cause the mainsail is too heavy for Willy and me.

So we just eased the peak and let the mainsail flap.

We went ashore and when I tell you they had two barrels of Barbados rum jacked up there on the beach.

You'll understand me when I tell you that they were parting the baby's hair good and proper.

After an hour, I told Willy if we were going to get that deck load of lumber to Ram Island, we'd better get a move on.

So we went back aboard than Nancy and Betsy, weighed anchor, raised the jib but we didn't have to raise the mainsail.

You see, the mainsail is kind of heavy for Willy and me.

So we had just eased the peak and let the mainsail flap.

Well, we raised the peak and sailed off for no more than five minutes time.

When they come in one of them fogs you get up round Cutler way.

So thick you can't see your nose in front of your face.

So I brung her to the wind and dropped anchor.

We lowered the jib, but we didn't have to lower the mainsail.

We just eased the peak and let the mainsail flap.

I said, "Where be we, Willy?"

And he says, "I don't know."

Well I says, "We can find out.

Go down below and fetch up that coast wise pilot."

You know, the local chart book.

Well he brung it up and it were kind of tattered and old and Willy no sooner got that pilot open to the Cutler page when they come along a little puff of wind that blew that page right overboard.

"Well, Willy," I says, "what are we gonna do now?"

"I don't know," he says.

"Willy," I says, "we're gonna weigh anchor.

We're gonna get a-moving and we're gonna keep a-moving by gosh, until we sail over into this next page here and then we'll know where we be."

Lobstering is a very lonely business.

There's a story about a lobsterman who comes upon another lobsterman in the fog.

The first says to the second, "I thought I heard you talking to yourself."

And the second says, "Yes, I enjoy talking to an intelligent man.

And I enjoy hearing an intelligent man speak."

There's also a wonderful story about a lobsterman who comes upon another in the fog and says, "Tom, I understand that your wife just gave birth to a baby boy this morning."

And Tom says, "Yes, he's a cunning little cast, but you know you could get me a sharp knife and a soft piece of white pine and I could whittle you a better looking baby than the one I've got."

"Well, how much does he weigh, Tom?"

"Oh three pounds, five ounces."

"That's a pretty skinny little kid.

Ain't it?"

"In fact, I'd say you just barely got your bait back."

George Brown telephoned over to Wilber Morse as soon as George had heard that the Titanic had sunk.

He said, "Wilber," of course he was so excited and he wanted Wilber to hear the story straight.

He said, "Wilber that great ship, the gigantic sunk in about 200 foot of water.

And that fellow John Jacob Astor was of board of her.

And he blow bubbles too, Wilbur.

Wouldn't it have been a great thing if you and me was aboard that Dory and got out to rescue John Jacob Astor.

And he'd stuck his hands up on the rail and we'd wrapped them with the oars and told him to get his clutches off.

And we'd held him in the water there till we run him up to six, $7,000 Then we'd let him aboard."

Well, of course, Wilbur shot right back to George on the telephone.

And he said, "George, after you'd swung your oars for six or seven days, getting back home with John Jacob Astor you'd think you'd earned your money."

It was all on account to that woman, Addy Lou.

Every day I'd haul that trap I got out beyond the point and up she come, up would come a Addy Lou, that is.

I could tell it was her because she was speckled red and black.

Since lobstering is a lonely business, I used to like to stick Addy Lou right up there in the bow of the skiff and talk with her.

Course, she couldn't carry on a conversation really but I could tell her moods by the color of her speckles.

When she was sad, the black speckles would come out.

And when she was annoyed, she'd turn red.

She took on an orange shade when she was happy.

At the end of the day, when I passed by Addy's point of land I'd give her a little nudge and she'd drop overboard for the next day's haul.

But evidently, Addy started numerating some 'cause I began to haul speckled lobsters in my other traps.

I had to throw them back in since I was never quite sure they weren't Addy.

After a while, it got to be that every trap I hauled was nothing but speckled lobsters.

That's why I had to haul all my traps permanent and give up lobstering all together, all on the counter of that woman, Addy Lou.

A lady come over to Oren Wormwood's place to buy one of the mackerel he'd sanded that morning.

When he saw her comin', Oren decided to play a trick on her.

He stuffed a fish with beach pebbles.

When the fish weighed out to 25 pounds the lady looked at Oren real skeptical but when she saw a pebble fall outta the fish's mouth she screamed at Oren that he was a scoundrel.

"Madam," he said, "Don't you know, it's the spring of the year.

This is the time when mackerel take on ballast and start heading off shore."

This object which I hold in my hand is what is called a lead.

It was dropped from the bow, or as they said heaved, at the end of a line with markings on it by which they were able to ascertain the depth of water.

At the bottom of the lead is a hole in which they stuffed grease, or as they said, served it with tallow and the grease would bring up a little bit of the sand or the mud from the bottom by which they were able to tell a little bit more about where they were.

Some of the captains in the old days were known for their skill at navigating by nothing but the lead.

This story is about just such a captain.

I shall never forget that homeward passage back to Castine when I was mate aboard the Lida B.

On the morning of November 28th, we judged ourselves just off Pripit.

The old man was below on his beam ends with the cruel rheumatism and the wind which had been blowing hard from the west hauled to the Southwest and increased to gale force.

I went below to ask the captain permission to shorten sail.

"Captain Phillips, we are too close with the land.

The fog is too thick and the wind too fresh to be carrying so much canvas, sir."

"Sound," said the old man, "and pass the lead below."

I went on deck and heaved the lead myself for I wished no slip ups.

I went below with the lead and shouted into the captain's good ear, "Five fathoms with sand, sir, and a cracking good breeze."

He scraped the sand from the lead with his right fore finger and placed some of it on his tongue.

"Don't you mean seven fathoms, Mr.

Saltar?"

he queried.

"Seven fathoms it was, sir, but I subtracted two to be on the safe side."

"Right, Mr. Saltar.

Right.

I am glad to find you so particular.

We are close in with the land and cannot be too careful.

You may keep her Northeast, half east.

Shake out all the reefs, Mr. Saltar, and we shall bring her home in style.

If you do not hear anything in the course of 15 minutes, let me know it and open ear for breakers, Mr.

Saltar."

In 10 minutes, I heard the roar of the breakers.

"Luff, luff, and shaker!"

I cried.

The schooner was brought to the wind in an instant but the dark line of Castine off our stern told me that everything was right.

After we had anchored safely, I determined to put the old man to a test.

I swung the lead like a sling and hurled it high on Castine shore, less than 75 feet away.

Then I hauled the lead back aboard and took it below to show the captain.

"Captain Phillips," I said, "the 15 minutes are gone.

It blows spitefully in flaws and spits thick."

"Mr. Saltar," returned the old man, "Northeast, half east should have brought you within earshot of the breakers some minutes ago.

I am afraid you have not kept us straight.

Now let me see that lead."

The captain tasted the dirt in the lead and spat it all over the cabin.

Obviously shaken he said, "There has been no fault in your steering, Mr. Saltar.

The schooneer has run Northeast, half east as straight as a gun barrel, but I regret to inform you that the town of Castine has sunk for we have sailed directly over ma'am Hackett's compost heap."

It was on the good Ship Mozambique and Captain Simes was at the command.

He had the same name as me, but thank God, no kin.

And we was outta Portland more than two years whaling off the coast of New Caledonia with not a drop of oil in the tanks.

And I was standing watch forward.

And that was in more than half a gale.

When the lookout on the mast head cried out, "Thar she blows!"

"Where away?"

said I.

"Four points of the starboard quarter!"

And I goes aft and I says, "Captain Simes, thar she blows.

Four points off the starboard quarter.

May I lower, sir?"

And he says, "By the left hand hind leg of the lamb of God, it's blowing to pert.

And I don't see fittin' for to lower.

Go forward and stand your watch."

And I goes forward and the lookout at the mast head says, "Thar she blows and breaches!"

And I goes aft, and I says, "Captain Simes, thar she blows and breaches.

May I lower?"

And Captain Simes says, "Mr. Simes, I told you once by the 23 legs of the 12 apostles it's blowing two pert and taint fittin' to lower.

Now go forward and stand your watch."

And I goes forward and the man at the mast head says, "Thar she blows and breaches and spam at that."

And I goes aft and I says, "Captain Simes, thar she blows and breaches and sparm at that.

May I lower?"

And he says, "Mr. Simes, I told you once.

And I told you twice by the 24 fat cherry beam that flutter about the throne of the thrice blessed Lord above, it's blowing too pert and taint fittin' for to lower.

But if you see fittin', then lower away and be damned."

And I lowered away.

And we went on the whale and we came within 70 foot of her.

And I says, "Get me three seas nearer for I'm hell with a long harpoon."

And be gosh, I darted the iron and she took.

And when we returned to the Mozambique, Captain Simes was standing there and he said, "Mr. Simes, you are the finest mate that we have ever had aboard the good ship Mozambique.

Below decks, I have a keg of Barbados rum and a box of the finest Havana cigars.

They are at your service."

And I said, "Captain Simes, I don't want your Havana cigars.

And I don't want your Barbados rum.

All I want is plain Christian civility and God damn little of that."

And I goes forward.

(gentle organ music) People always said that Tom Riles should have been a preacher.

He was always the first into church and the last to leave.

He had a seat right up next to the pulpit with his name onto the back of it.

And when people would come into the church late he'd turn around and stare at 'em.

One Sunday, the Reverend Forbes preached an unusually inspiring sermon about how Christ walked on the waters.

Well, Tom dashed out after the service and ran into the water in the bay, right up to his neck.

Well, some of the congregation saw him there and asked him how the water was.

He replied, "Well, it's still pretty soft, but you know I went two or three steps before I went down."

Aunt Mehitabel went out to Washington state for her asthmatic condition.

She sent us a postcard telling us she had got there by way of Bangor, but that she didn't like the place on account of it was so fur from the ocean.

Her asthma got worse and she passed away on the train coming home.

We telegraphed arrangements to have her crated and shipped the rest of the way.

When the box arrived, we had a funeral for her and were about to put her under when we decided to have a final viewing.

When we opened the coffin, there were an Admiral in full dress uniform.

Well, making the best of an unsettled situation, we closed the lid and buried the Admiral in the hopes that Aunt Mehitabel would get a 21 gun salute.

You know, it's surprising, I was just thinking about it.

How many nautical expressions have crept into our descriptions of women.

I was thinking maybe I could kind of hitch up with one of them nice little teenagers.

'Cause I have an awful passion for them young ladies.

I saw one go by and she was in one of them tight t-shirts and as we say, her topsails were set and she was humming taught.

(audience laughs) (gentle music) (upbeat music)