By Peter Matthiessen
An eloquent portrayal of a disappearing lifestyle of the manhattan fishermen whose voices--humorous, sour and bewildered--are as transparent because the threatened great thing about their as soon as quiet shore.
From the exchange Paperback edition.
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Additional resources for Men's Lives: The Surfmen and Baymen of the South Fork
But regardless of the fights among the 2, Stewart’s sisters suppose that their father spoiled the one boy. Stewart used to be no longer spoiled, yet he was once convinced. Having attempted early and with no luck to inform his father how one can do issues, he made convinced that any new males at the crew—and outsiders especially—deferred to his personal greater event; and infrequently this manner of compensating for his formative years came upon as stubbornness and conceitedness, specially out within the dory the place his father couldn't yell at his error. because the guy atmosphere the internet, he used to be dory captain, and not anyone disputed him other than the “captain’s captain,” as Stewart known as him, the guy within the long-billed cap and checked wool blouse waving his palms and yelling from the seashore. at some point of massive rolling swells, with the web set and the dory headed again towards shore, Stewart discovered he had left in the back of the gloves he had to carry the jack line that may sluggish the dory and carry her stern into the seas as she entered the surf. “Hell, that’s nothin,” Stewart stated, as though this was once the way in which that he had deliberate it. considering that there isn't any cleat on a dory—it may foul the net—he took a flip round his leg to snub the road, then jerked his obdurate chin towards the white seashore that rose and disappeared back at the back of the wave crests. That day i used to be stroke oar and John Cole was once within the bow. staring at Stewart’s set face and the seas looming at the back of him, John cleared his throat in comedian alarm and that i grinned an uneasy grin. massive swells lifted and fell underneath the dory as we pulled towards shore, prepared to “put our again in it” to trap the 1st small wave, but being cautious to not circulation too quickly in case the boat used to be picked up by way of a sea too mammoth for us to deal with. on the better of occasions, the fellow at the jack line wishes power to carry the dory at the again of the wave, in the back of the crest; now not till this wave collapses does he ease off a bit at the line in order that the dory settles at the damaged wave and coasts ashore. while the seashore is flat, the trick is lots more uncomplicated. today the tide was once excessive and the seashore was once steep, and it appeared to the sad oarsmen that the seas have been growing to be. The wave that eventually stuck us was once too tremendous; it lifted up our stern and pitched us ahead. Stewart was once powerful, he did his most sensible to haul us again bare-handed, yet despite that risky flip round his leg, the yellow dory used to be too heavy; the road sizzled throughout the transom notch as she collected pace. Our dory captain wore an odd expression. To today, i will see the white scar status out on his stiff face because the ache hit him, and the shrill caution cry from shore, just like the voice of a much gull around the wind. Stewart, grunting, permit pass of the line—he had no choice—and the dory shot ahead, stern emerging to the sky as she cascaded wildly down the wave face. Yanking the oars in, we spun on our seats, ready to leap. within the nook of my eye I observed Ted Lester, scuttling over the sand a lot swifter than a guy in waders used to be ever intended to run. given that dory careen towards the steep seashore, he knew simply what used to be going to ensue, and it did.