[Illustration:  “THE TRAP IS SUBMERGED A HUNDRED YARDS OR SO FROM SHORE”]

In deep water, however, bait is necessary and the squid is a favorite bait.  A squid is a baby octopus, or “devil fish.”  The squid is caught by jigging up and down a lead weight filled with wire spikes and painted bright red.  It seizes the weight with its tentacles.  When raised into the boat it releases its hold and squirts a small stream of black inky fluid.  In the water, when attacked, this inky fluid discolors the water and screens it from its enemy.

The octopus grows to immense size, with many long arms.  Two Newfoundlanders were once fishing in an open boat, when an octopus attacked the boat, reaching for it with two enormous arms, with the purpose of dragging it down.  One of the fishermen seized an ax that lay handy in the boat and chopped the arms off.  The octopus sank and all the sea about was made black with its screen of ink.  The sections of arms cut off were nineteen feet in length.  They are still on exhibition in the St. Johns Museum, where I have seen them many times.  Shortly afterward a dead octopus was found, measuring, with tentacles spread, forty feet over all.  It was not, however, the same octopus which attacked the fishermen, for that must have been much larger.

We can understand, then, how much Skipper Tom’s cod trap meant to him.  We can visualize his pleasure, and share his joy.  The trap was, to a large extent, insurance against privation and hardship.  It was his reward for the self-denial of himself and his family for years, and represented his life’s savings.

When at last the ice cleared from his fishing place and the trap was set, there was no prouder or happier man on The Labrador than Skipper Tom.  The trap was in the water when the Princess May, one Saturday afternoon, steamed into Red Bay and Doctor Grenfell accepted the hospitable invitation of Skipper Tom to spend the night at his home.

It was still early in the season and icebergs were plentiful enough, as, indeed, they are the whole summer long.  They are always a menace to cod traps, for should a berg drift against a trap, that will be the end of the trap forever.  Fishermen watch their traps closely, and if an iceberg comes so near as to threaten it the trap must be removed to save it.  A little lack of watchfulness leads to ruin.

“The trap’s well set,” said Skipper Tom, when Doctor Grenfell inquired concerning it.  “The ice is keepin’ clear, but I watches close.”

“What are the signs of fish?” asked the Doctor.

“Fine!” said Skipper Tom.  “The signs be wonderful fine.”

“I hope you’ll have a big year.”

“There’s a promise of un,” Skipper Tom grinned happily.  “The trap’s sure to do fine for us.”

But nobody knows from one day to another what will happen on The
Labrador.

According to habit Skipper Tom was up bright and early on Sunday morning and went for a look at the trap.  When presently he returned to join Doctor Grenfell at breakfast he was plainly worried.