52 The Sea

That he was a capable seaman, we know from his record trip of 59 hours from St. Jacques, Newfoundland, to Gloucester with a load of frozen herring in January, 1896.2 For those who understand sailing terms, it was noted that his ship “carried both topsails and her baloon as well as her four

owers.”

Earlier in September, 1887, he rescued the crew of the schooner, Neskiti- tia, of Lockport, Nova Scotia, wrecked off Malpeque.3 Because, at this time, American vessels could only enter the three mile limit for shelter, repairs, wood or water, he was refused permission to land the rescued seamen. The captain of the Canadian patrol boat, Critic, finally told him he could put “saved material” aboard a Nova Scotia boat if he went outside the three mile limit.

In the end, he lost ten days of valuable fishing time while the fleet took large quantities of mackerel and, having to feed extra men on board, ran low on provisions. He gave the rescued men sixty dollars for passage home and rations for the journey. He himself was forced to make the return trip of 300 miles on short rations. He never got a cent from the shipwrecked crew or a word of thanks from the owners of the shipwrecked vessel.

He was a capable seaman and a humane man but his greatest claim to fame was his ability to catch large quantities of fish. In Souris, today, we boast a fisherman, now retired, with the nickname, “Sol Jacobs”. Truly a great compliment.

The Night Sol Jacobs Died (By: Sea Gull)‘

The wind is nor nor’east tonight

And blowing half a gale.

The sea outside the Point is streaked with white

And a tall-sparred Yankee beauty is a lugging every sail A trifle down the lee o’ Souris light.

She’s a phantom out of Gloucester

This tall-sparred white-winged queen

A-scooting bone-in-mouth, up through the swell

And Sol Jacobs, King of Fishermen, stands at the wheel unseen.

He’s making Souris Port to say farewell.

Though he cleared tonight from Gloucester

For grounds beyond life’s main

Left seine boats back ashore, all high and dry

Yet he shoots his phantom flyer into well known haunts again

To look around and shout a last good-bye.

And the spirit of old Souris answers Sol across the swell: “Farewell King Sol, Brave Heart farewell again. May the golden luck of dear dead days and the old time cry,

“All’s well” Be yours ere dawn beyond life’s troubled main.