Yankee Clipper

Cape Ann, Massachusetts

Early 1900s

Luther stood on the pier watching his boat rise and fall with the waves as the sky turned a dark gray. A cold wind came blowing through making it hard for Luther to light his cigarette.

“Lutha betta lash ya boat down good t’night. Theys a storm a comin’.” Luther new the voice and turned around. “I spect ya want be a huntin’ t’ day . Be a good night to stay in an cook up some chowda.”

Luther’s thin frame turned toward Jamison. A short fat man who has never spent a day on the sea.

“ I don’t concern myself ‘bout things I can’t control. I ‘ve already cooked my suppa. If you want chowda , ya had betta get home an start a cookin’

Luther’s face looked like crumpled brown paper bag, with wind burns on his nose and cheeks. Long days on the water had aged him. “Jamison just keep ya dolla green an I’ll have ya some ducks on tha table in tha ‘morrow. They’ll be plenty a ducks afta this clippa passes.”

Luther was not a market hunter. He did sell ducks but not to the markets. He caught fish, crabs and shot ducks for the local people . He was more of an order hunter. If someone told Luther they wanted fifteen pounds of fish, Luther would go catch the fish for them, same for ducks. Jamison had a taste for ducks but had never hunted in his life. He was more than happy to pay Luther for his work. Luther lived in a small house by the pier. He was kind of a very fresh meat market for the village. If a family in the village fell on hard times, unable to work or hunt or fish for themselves. They might find a few fish, ducks or other game on there porch to help get them by. Everyone knew it was Luther but he denied it every time.

Luther made his living hunting and fishing the sea. If he was not on the water you could find him milling about his house. Repairing his boat, fixing nets or carving a decoy. He was a simple man the locals called him “Old Salt”, he took his coffee black, whiskey straight and rolled his on smokes. Many people said he was such a good hunter because he was so thin he could hide behind a single cat tail

When Jamison left the “Yankee Clipper” started passing through. Luther grabbed an arm load of wood and walked inside. That night the wind howled and the temperature dropped. Luther laid in bed and knew he would have no problem filling orders in the morning. When Luther woke up he put more wood on the fire and started a pot of coffee. He dressed for the cold weather grabbed his gun and shells, stepped out into the snow and began the walk to his blind.

His blind was dug into a point, with the open sea on one side and a shallow cove on the other. Once there he removed the lid and settled in waiting for the birds in the predawn darkness. Luther struck a match and brought life to one of his cigarettes. Then by match light he checked his orders for the day. Today he needed 16, he might take a few more for himself.

Redheads were the first to come in. flying low and fast they banked right in front of his blind, headed for the calm water of the cove. Now he needed 14 more. Luther kept a small skiff near his blind. He paddled out to retrieve the two ducks. While walking back to his blind he heard whistling wings again and knelt down behind some bushes. A flock of Black Ducks was headed for his spread. The large group twisted and turned on cupped wings headed to the decoys. Shots rang out. 11 more to go. While in the skiff more Red Heads came in. 9 more would finish his day.

Back in the blind he noticed movement low on the water. It was a group of Old Squaw. Ten of the ducks came in and lit in his decoys. Luther stood up and water swatted the group. Only 4 more needed. After retrieving the birds, he settled back into his blind and fired up another cigarette. It was not long before he heard wing beats again. But he could not see anything in front of him. Looking back he saw another group of Blacks cutting wind to get down to the calm water. One more would fill his orders anything else would be for him. He finished off the day with 4 more Reds. Then gathered his gear and walked home. Once he got home people came by to pick up orders. Others dropped off orders. Throughout the rest of the day he fixed nets and put the finishing touches on some decoys. He lived to hunt and hunted to live. Just another day for the “old Salt’ of Cape Ann.