USA > Massachusetts > Essex County > Gloucester > The book of the three hundredth anniversary observance of the foundation of the Massachusetts Bay Colony at Cape Ann in 1623 and the fiftieth year of the incorporation of Gloucester as a city > Part 15
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Like you comedy? Read of that Gloucester Irishman who on the Cut kept the watch house with power to stop any stranger and fumigate him, lest he bring small pox into the settlement, and how he kept there all day in fumigating smoke, his majesty's unpopular
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GLOUCESTER, ENGLAND
River Severn In Foreground. Cathedral in Center. Gloucester is Said to be the Most Inland Seaport in England, the Tidal Bore Making Fourteen Miles Above the City "There twice a day the Severn fills ; The salt sea-water passes by And washes half the babbling Wye And makes a silence in the hills."
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custom's officer so that he could collect no customs from the schooner being rapidly unloaded at the dock.
Do tragedies interest you more? In her history you may find a thousand tales of disaster and of woe. A hundred wrecks have been cast upon her shores. In one wreck, that of the Dutch ship of War in 1783, on this coast, 302 lives were lost. Hither were brought many of the distressed Acadians and here they found refuge.
Would you read of the discovery of hidden wealth? See Gloucester taking it from the sea and look again and see her blow- ing granite from the everlasting hills and exchanging it for gold.
Would you hear of indomitable spirit? See Gloucester rising from the ruins of two great fires.
Like you to read of magic? Here within the neighboring cove, man from the shore first used the lightning to guide a ship with no engineer at the lever and no pilot at the wheel.
Would you hear of noble women? Scan the lives of the women of Gloucester who have made even greater sacrifices than her men and shared equally in all that has contributed to her colorful life.
Would you hear of heroes? In war and in peace, every page witnesses to the deeds of such. No vessel of her thousands of the past but what, if it could speak, could add to the story.
Nor did the race of heroes live only in the past-they are here today and all about you.
Go read again how on the evening of April 23d last the schooner Ingomar in a heavy sea lost overboard one of her men and how the Captain hearing the man cry for help as he was drifting away from the rapidly moving vessel, left the wheel and without removing a coat or a boot, jumped over the rail into the icy water shouting, "If you go down, we'll go together, Chris." Yes, both were saved, for there were other heroes there who got in their work also.
Go read again in the columns of the daily paper how in the Spring of this year the Elizabeth Howard, the "White Ghost" of the fishing fleet, near the dreaded shoals of Sable Island, racing under bare poles, in a ninety mile gale, was struck by a giant sea ; how a mountain of water was upon her deck and everything movable went by the board, and how the count was taken by the bruised and battered men that remained and they found four men were gone. Read further how, when morning came, under reefed foresail, all the other sails having been blown to ribbons, the vessel
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was trying to make Halifax and how her men exhausted and hungry and depressed by the loss of their comrades saw far in the distance a floundering vessel, flying signals of distress, and how, without hesitation, the course was changed and like a race horse the Howard bore down on the vessel whose distress was greater than her own. How they launched the few remaining dories and soon had saved sixteen men of the sinking Lunenberg vessel, for, as they explained, "we couldn't have left them there, even though we had all gone by the board ourselves in trying to get them off."
I have told you, as it were, only one in hundreds of the stories that might be told to illustrate the uniqueness of Gloucester's history. Its every page is crowded full. I would that time permitted to tell you of her men and women who have distinguished themselves in other ways. Of her artists and her sculptors, of her poets and historians, of her statesmen and jurists, of her philanthropists and ministers of the living God.
"Fair City, rejoice mid these jubilant throngs, As thy children assemble today, With pageants, and banners, and garlands, and songs, Their tribute of honor to pay. And among us yet others are standing unseen, Sober-clad and of visage austere: They have noiselessly come from their low tents of green To partake of our festival cheer."
"They have not perished-No! Kind words, remembered voices once so sweet, Smiles radiant long ago, And features, the great soul's apparent seat."
And so we celebrate today, not merely a settlement three hundred years ago, but three hundred years of rugged, valorous, successful living. Nor has Gloucester yet run her course, but rugged and courageous, she still
" _- fronts the sun, and on the purple ridges The virgin future lifts her veil of snow; Look backward, and an arch of splendor bridges The gulf of long ago."
And so may Gloucester ever "front the sun" and to "the purple ridges of the future" build an arch that shall rival in splendor the arch that "bridges the gulf of long ago."
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Mr. Russell said :
"And now I invite your attention to the Anniversary poem and author's reading thereof by a distinguished poet and dramatist well- known to all of you as the author of the Canterbury Pilgrims a page- ant produced here with great success some years ago, and a poem entitled Dog Town Common which has a decidedly local flavor. I present to you Percy MacKaye who will deliver the Anniversary poem. Mr. MacKaye on arising said :
Ladies and Gentlemen, the name of this poem is the "Skippers of Nancy Gloucester," By the Nancy Gloucester I typify those 300 years of sea life which Gloucester has experienced and her three skippers are the three centuries and each one tells his yarn. If you were reading this you would see that there is a brief prologue and then the yarn of the skippers:
THE SKIPPERS OF NANCY GLOUCESTER by Percy MacKaye (Prologue)
1923-THE NANCY AND HER THREE SKIPPERS
Between midnight and morning star, When the steeples all were chiming,
I saw three masts against the scar Of the old moon come a-climbing. There was no wind; There was no sound But the clear bells rhyming.
There was no wind, but every mast Bloomed sails from jib and spanker
As in to port like a spirit she passed With a proud and easy swanker. Upon her deck Three Shadows bowed And heaved over her anchor.
Under the blazing Milky Way She bridled to her tether.
Those Shadows there they did not stay To scan the starry weather. Instead they rose And lit their pipes And puffed them all together.
From each pipe-bowl a fog went up As each mouth bit the nipple, And a threefold cloud from spar and shroud Dropped down a hoary dripple
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Where the shadow of Those Shadows lay Enormous and triple.
Each puff-glare showed a shaven lip, And the shine of a tooth was showing Through grizzle of beard that had tossed unsheared For a thousand moons a-growing In the salt scud And the sun's scorch And the hail sleet blowing.
The Shadows leaned where the gang-rail stopped. Two crossed their knees at the buckle; The Third he crossed both arms and propped His chin on a tarry knuckle, And each behind The fog of his pipe Chuckled a lonely chuckle.
In the glooming light I drew more near That dream-ship to accost her,
But at my call she seemed to veer And almost I had lost her Till faint, above Her water line, I read there: NANCY GLOUCESTER.
Then through a rift I saw their eyes Peer with the setting Dipper. A century's haze was over each gaze, But a gust like a nor'east whipper Cut with the twang Of a triple voice: "Hoy! - Who called - 'Skipper' ?"
' 'Tis strange,' I thought, ' What cry so hoarse Has set the night-bells jangling? This shadowy barque-who has steered her course? From what far forage or angling Does she dock so proud With towering sails And her top-gallant spangling? '
Thereat there came a scuffing sound Like the roar of a clog-dancer, And a fog-horn laugh went booming off Past Capricorn and Cancer Till its echo returned On the eerie tones Of a bravely ringing answer:
"Our Barque was born of the mist and morn And cradled by gale and thunder.
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Three hundred years of hazard and fears And blinding storms have stunned her, And she has foundered In unknown deeps, But always she rose from under.
"For the stars designed her steadfast plan; The forges of nature framed her; The mysteries of death and disease Have maimed but have never tamed her, For the Spirits of freemen Manned her helm, And NANCY GLOUCESTER they named her.
"Like her mother, the Mist, she shifts her shapes; Sloop, schooner, packet and dory, For to fish or fight, she has weathered the night Of perils unnamed in story, Where the untold deeds Of her dauntless soul Are Nancy Gloucester's glory."-
Their answer ceased; and yet it seemed, Ere the echo had stopped dinning,
That one of the Three still spoke to me, And his fog-gray eyes were grinning Like an old sea-skipper Beginning a yarn- And this was the beginning :
(PART I) (JOHN WHITE AND GOD) 1623-FOUNDING THE FISHERIES
John White, a man of God, In Sixteen Twenty-three, 'Dear God!' he said 'I'd rather be dead Than never put out to sea.
'I'd rather go down in the wave For all eternity, Than stay on shore, a land-bred slave, When I might go fishing free.
'To labor on the land It tames man like an ox; For a wage he'll chew his cud in a cage And suffer his master's knocks.
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'In towns he'll borrow new clothes, Or burrow in old books, Or crookle a knee to high degree And climb the more he crooks.
'But the man who wants to climb By robbing his fellows' right And grows to be master by their disaster- His name is not John White.
'On land, it's rob one another : But Lord (Beg your pardon I do! ). Rather than fish from my brother I'd lots rather fish from you,
'Seeing, Lord, you've enough of your own Lardered away in the tide To last us both till the Judgment's blown- And you never miss it beside.
'So what I'm praying for Is us to be partners, Lord, With me to do a freeman's chore And you to give me your word
'How I may earn my own To mine and others' good, And lay the keel of a new world weal In a stubborn livelihood
'Where a man takes the weather to wife And the sou'west by the bit And speeds his course by the glory of life Whose spirit grows by grit,
'Where sun-dazzle sharps his eyes, And fog-dark keens his ears, And ache of the eating flaw and ice Benumbs his landsman fears.
'So, of your bounty, God, Knowing from marineers How the western deeps are running with cod To fish for a thousand years,
'I ask your word: Am I wrong Or right to want my wish?' God said: 'John White, I guess you're right; If I were you, I'd fish. '-
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So John White gathered his friends And they sailed due west away And builded fish stages for all ages On Massachusetts Bay.
(INTERLUDE)
The Skipper kindled his pipe as he stopped. His neighbor tightened a buckle. The Third still crossed both arms and propped His chin on a tarry knuckle; And each behind The fog of his pipe Chuckled a lonely chuckle.
"Aye, that was Nancy's first trip out, Though they named her name another; And I was her Skipper."-Thereabout The First Shadow turned in the smother Of fog, and nudged His neighbor's arm: "When did you board her brother?"
"In Twenty-three of Seventeen, The midnight when you quit her."-
The Second Shadow spoke. A sheen On the spars began to glitter, As over the dunes Of Annisquam Piped a dreamy twitter.
"We fished, but there was fighting when THE SQUIRREL (She was Nancy !) And I and Andy Haraden Made the old De'il go dancy. The pirates and The fisher boys- I hear them still, I fancy .
(PART II) (ANDY HARADEN AND THE PIRATES) 1723-FISHING AND FIGHTING "Andy Haraden! Andy Haraden! What are you doing over in Annisquam?"
Over in Annisquam, Among the bluebirds And the budding barberries, April whistled it down on the dunes
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To the hammering, hammering, Hammering
Of echoing mallets,
Scrunch and squealing and slither
Of adze, rip-saw, jack-plane, broad-ax, hatchet,
That rang ever brisker
In lulls of the lowtide roar
And wind of the salt-keen morning.
Tart-sweet was the smell Of cedary shavings
And the piney sawdust
Where Andy Haraden,
Andy, the boy-captain of carpenters,
Stooped with his jack-plane
Sleeking the tawny flanks of the Squirrel,
His little sloop, the trim-masted
Unlaunched darling of Annisquam.
Blithe in the salt-keen morning
He whistled and laughed, Laughed and whistled,
As the winds on the dunes
Asked and answered, asked and answered.
"Andy Haraden! Andy Haraden! What are you doing over in Annisquam ?"-
-"Taming a Squirrel to catch me some fishes!"
"Pirate Phillips! Pirate Phillips!
What are you watching for, out on the waters there?"
Out on the waters, Far amid white caps And bursting wind-squalls, Wild gulls screaked it over the bay,
To the shudder of straining masts
And the whine And clacking of reef-tackle,
Mingled with oath-yells and moaning Of 'forced men', beaten by cutlass and barb-nailed whiplash Held in the horrible Hands of the black-flag gang- The crew of the blood-ship, Cross-bones.
Grease-foul was the ooze Of blood in the scuppers And the stinking forecastle Where Pirate Phillips, Phillips, the old captain of cutthroats, Stood with his gang-mates, John Nott, James Sparks, and Burrell the boatswain,
-
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Aiming his blood-fingered spyglass Over the waters to Annisquam. Black in the salt-keen morning He glowered and scowled, Scowled and glowered, As the wild gulls and winds Asked and answered, asked and answered:
"Pirate Phillips! Pirate Phillips! What are you watching for, out on the waters there?"- -"Watching for shore-fools, to feed to the fishes."
"Andy Haraden! Andy Haraden! Why don't you fish while the fish are a-plenty now?"
"The fish are a-plenty now. The tides are full of 'em. Out with The Squirrel boys! We'll finish her out on the bay while we catch."
So out on the bay, still hammering,
Hammering, They raced the quick Squirrel:
Scrunch, and squealing and slither Of adze, rip-saw, jack-plane, broad-ax, hatchet, Mixing with catch-cries
Of cod and halibut, till all Dead weary they slept with the sundown.
Too sweet was the smell Of cedary shavings!
Too deep their boy-slumber,
As over the ship-rail Swarmed the darkling crew of The Cross-bones, Led by old Phillips Stalking one 'forced man', big Edward Cheeseman .- Hooting an owl-cry they startled
The dazed boys bunked in the shavings.
-"Sleep on! You can shave in the morning!" Old Phillips laughed loud As "Whew!" Andy whistled;
And the wild gulls, awaking, Asked and answered, asked and answered:
"Andy Haraden! Andy Haraden! Why don't you fish while the fish are a-plenty now ?"- -"I've got to shave deck-boards for old Pirate Phillips."
"Pirate Phillips! Pirate Phillips! Why are you nosing about in the shavings there?" __ -"I thought I smelled Hell and the roof was on fire."
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"Damn you! Don't smoke in Those deck shavings, Haraden!
"Right, Sir!" - And Andy Watched Phillips stoop to the rum-barrel tap, While big Edward Cheeseman the 'forced man', Slouched along Where Andy, nudging him,
Nodded to the others, and pointed
To adze, rip-saw, jack-plane, broad-ax, mallet; "Quick! Give 'em Hell now!" And quick to their tools on the deck Sprang the carpenter fisher-boys.
Dead by the broad-ax Fell Burrell, the boatswain.
Stunned by a mallet
Lay John Nott and, hurled by great Cheeseman, Fell in the ocean.
Old Phillips-sprawled in the shavings-
Reached Hell by the adze-blow of Andy. High swung his head at the yard-arm!
So the boy-captain
Sailed back to Annisquam,
Where the bells in the steeples
Rang and answered, rang and answered:
"Andy Haraden! Andy Haraden! What are you fetching back home to Annisquam?" ___ -"Fetching old Phillips, to feed to the fishes!"
(INTERLUDE) THE SECOND AND THIRD SKIPPERS
The pipe of the Second Skipper dropped As he bent to loosen his buckle. The Third still crossed both arms and propped His chin on a tarry knuckle, And each behind The pulsing fog Chuckled a lonely chuckle.
"Aye, that was Nancy's thousandth bout, And Andy and I were each other, For I was her Skipper. "-Squinting out In to the lifting smother, He touched the Third One's Tarry hand: ."When did YOU board her, brother?"
"In Twenty-three of old Eighteen, The same midnight you quit her." The Third One spoke. - And now the sheen
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Set all her sails a-glitter, As out of the east The wild gull cries Drowned the shore-birds' twitter.
"You fished and fought and so did we, But mostly there's been trading Since old Sol Davis upt to sea With his first mackerel lading From this same wharf: I can see him still There-where the fog is fading."
(PART III) (SOLOMON'S VOYAGE TO SURINAM) 1823-SEA TRADING
Sol Davis was a silent man. At home they said he talked in Dutch.
In Surinam, where they talked such,
They said he talked American. But where he stood on Pearce's wharf
He dreamed in Dutch, as he looked far off
Sou'east toward sunny Surinam, For he dreamt dreams of Surinam And the palms of Paramaribo Did Captain Solomon Davis.
So to his townsmen on the beach Sol turned and spoke his maiden speech: "In Gloucester, friends a pretty pass is! We've mackerel but no molasses. In Surinam they've got to sell Molasses but no mackerel .-
So why not sail to Surinam, Sou'east to sunny Surinam And the palms of Paramaribo Along with Solomon Davis?"
His townsmen raised three ripping cheers, And straight they docked the NANCY GLOUCESTER. The Captain made a sailing roster --- Mate, second mate and marineers. They stowed her, half with dried fish, pounding, And half with hogsheads, hollow-sounding.
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Then out they sailed for Surinam, The sunny shores of Surinam And the palms of Paramaribo With Captain Solomon Davis.
In such a ship with such a man Who would not sail from old Cape Ann With a deep blue tide and the caps blowing, To voyage through twenty southing days And nights with wonder stars ablaze And dawns in deeper sea-dawns glowing,
Out bound for dreamy Surinam, The drowsy banks of Surinam And the palms of Paramaribo With silent Solomon Davis!
The anchor sinks in azure calms. The punts put out through gold-green palms
Where, naked from the tawny thatches, The slave-boys drop like ripened plums To shrill the noon with tinnient drums While Yankee chanteys ring the hatches:
'Ho -! Here we are in Soo- ri- nam, Soo- Soo- Soo- ri- nam!
Port of Para- ma- ri- bo .- Huzza for Captain Davis!'
Sol plies his sugar trade ashore. The Yankee clips his Dutch. The planter Clinks rims across the rum decanter As dollar trumps the old moidore. The banjo tinks; girl-laughter chimes; The red moon blinks among the limes
Where, lulled by songs of Surinam, The crooning songs of Surinam And the rum of Paramaribo Snores old Solomon Davis.
But NANCY GLOUCESTER chafes for north. Molasses makes her ribs rebel As Dutchmen gorged on mackerel, Troop down to speed her captain forth-
Forth on the route the trade winds seek Past Guadaloupe and Martinique
Home bound nor'east from Surinam And the planters of Paramaribo With thrifty Captain Davis.
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The blue Bermudas smile; but soon She reefs in dark for roaring Hatteras, Where slatting boom and torn spar clatter as
Blindly she batters the tides in swoon, Till, nine days laggard, with bulging tierces,
She sights home port and docks at Pearce's :-
Home with the spoils of Surinam, Tamarinds limes of Surinam,
Molasses of Paramaribo And the glory of Solomon Davis!
(Finale)
1923-THE NANCY AND A NEW DAY
Toward fiery beacons of new day The NANCY tugs at her tether.
Those shadowy Skippers do not stay To scan the eager weather; Instead they heave Her anchor up, Singing-all together:
"Our Barque was born of the mist and morn And cradled by gale and thunder.
Three hundred years of hazard and fears And blinding storms have stunned her, And she has foundered In unknown deeps, But always she rose from under.
"Like her mother, the mist, she shifts her shapes: Sloop, schooner, packet and dory,
For to fish or fight, she has weathered the night Of perils unnamed in story,
Where the untold deeds Of her dauntless soul Are NANCY GLOUCESTER'S glory !"
Then followed the anniversary prayer by Rev. Albert A. Madsen, Ph. D.
"Almighty God, we give Thee thanks this day for Thy unnumbered blessings in the days of yore to this Thy people whom Thou hast guided and preserved through three hundred years as they came year after year to lay their hearthstones and set up their altars on this rocky coast.
We thank Thee, our Father, that Thou hast been equally mindful of the needs of their children and their children's children after them, that the hardy courage and perseverance of the pioneers has not perished from our midst.
We thank Thee, O God, for the peoples of many races and from
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many lands who have come through the years and built here their homes with friendly neighborliness until we have become one com- munity and are reaching out toward a common high faith and a com- mon ideal.
We thank Thee, our Fountain of Strength, for this city by the sea, our Gloucester, for the old Commonwealth of Massachusetts, for our Country, with their noble traditions of freedom and equality.
God of our fathers, now united as one in the common possession of a noble heritage, we humbly beseech Thy continued favor upon this land of fisherfolk. As Christ loved the hardy sons of toil who daily cast their nets into the blue waters of Galilee, may His love and friendly spirit inspire our people that we may build here upon the restless sea a city of God.
Make us lovers of home; grant us freedom as we grant to others the right to be free; teach us the love of truth; burn into our very souls the passion for justice; keep us humble, simple and natural; help us to mingle courage with kindness, hardiness with grace; make us men of peace.
Purge our land, O Father, of the influences which divide man from man; cleanse us from greed and arrogance; remove from our souls the ambitions which breed strife and war; give to us the love of God and man which makes for joy and peace.
Preserve, we pray Thee, this community of simple fisherfolk, and grant us strength to carry on among men with loyalty and friendliness, with kindness and courage, with self-sacrifice and in fellowship." Amen.
Mr. Russell continuing, said :
The committee felt that this occasion would be incomplete with- out a contribution and discussion of the question of the permanency of the settlement of 1623 at Cape Ann. No one appeared to be more qualified to discuss that question than our local historian and anti- quarian James R. Pringle, that the record night be preserved in permanent form. I have the pleasure of presenting Mr. James R. Pringle.
THE PERMANENT SETTLEMENT OF THE MASSA- CHUSETTS BAY COLONY AT FISHERMAN'S FIELD, CAPE ANN, IN 1623 BY JAMES ROBERT PRINGLE
Author of "A History of Gloucester," 1892; "A History of Tyrian Lodge of Freemasons"; "Gloucester, An Outpost of Liberalism," etc.
Dedicated to the Memory of John J. Somes, Esq., One of Gloucester's Most Loyal Sons-City Clerk 1873-1921-Emeritus 1921-22
In 1897, Fisherman's Field, later Stage Fort Park, was, by legis- lative sanction, acquired by the City of Gloucester as a "permanent
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memorial of the settlement of the Massachusetts Bay Colony." In 1907, certain citizens of Weymouth petitioned the legislature that the clause relating to the "permanent settlement" be stricken out, it being contended that priority in this matter rested in Weymouth, where a group of fishermen tarried in 1622. Hearings were given before a legislative committee. The Weymouth delegation had its day and say in court. The argument for Gloucester was advanced, convincingly, by the late City Clerk John J. Somes. The question was referred to the next General Court (1908) but the Weymouth representatives al- lowed the matter to drop and the legislative pronouncement in refer- ence to the "permanent settlement at Cape Ann" stands. In the sum- mer of 1907 the memorial tablet in the massive ledge at Stage Fort Park recounting the facts of the permanent settlement and founda- tion was placed in position.
In this controversy the writer assisted City Clerk Somes in as- sembling facts relative to the case. September 21, 1917, during his absence, resolutions, of which an abstract is appended, drawn by Mr. Somes, were unanimously passed by the Municipal Council in part as follows:
"Whereas our esteemed fellow citizen James R. Pringle, cor- respondent of the Boston Globe, has been called to the colors and taken his departure in the naval service of his country and its flag and, whereas, each Sunday he has furnished a letter to the Globe containing many historical facts not previously mentioned in history showing a deep and abiding faith in the city of his birth especially in the fisheries, as well as matters pertaining to the settlement of the town, which remain uncontradicted and which went largely to win the contest of the first settlement between our sister town of Weymouth and our own historic Gloucester," etc.
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