Fishermen have always been among the most daring and hardworking men of the sea. For thousands of years they have experimented and invented, always in search of the boats and ships and nets that will do the best job for them. New England fishermen used to be great whittlers of ship models. They carved out their models partly for fun, partly to give shipbuilders new ideas for improving their designs.

One of the great fishing towns is Gloucester, Massachusetts, and there’s a story about it that goes this way: Almost two hundred and fifty years ago, a ship builder in Gloucester launched a vessel that everyone admired. On the day when she first slid into the water, a big crowd gathered to watch. She was graceful and light, and she fairly skimmed along—the way a flat stone does when a boy skips it over the water. In those days in New England, some people called skipping “scooning.”

All at once, someone in the crowd called out, “See how she scoons!” The builder called back, “A scooner let her be!” And according to the story, the name schooner—a new spelling—has stuck to this very day.

A modern schooner still has sails, but not so many as the early ones. An engine now gives her power, so that she can make fast time to and from the fishing grounds, and her sails are used mostly to steady her in the sea while the men work. The engine also helps with the heavy work of handling the nets.

Each kind of fish has its own habits, and the fishermen know them well. Some fish, such as cod and flounder, live down near the floor of the sea. They are caught in drag nets which are towed at the right speed behind the vessel. Men haul the net in, dump the catch into ice-cooled bins in the hold, then drag the net again.

Mackerel behave differently. They swim along in huge groups called schools near the surface of the water. The lookout man on the mast keeps his eye on the sea till he can yell, “School O!” Quickly the men lower a boat that sets a huge net called a purse-seine. At first the net is really a fence. Hundreds of floating corks at the top, and lead weights at the bottom, hold it in place, while the seine-boat draws it into a circle around the fish. Then, at a signal, a motor in the seine-boat pulls on a sort of drawstring in the bottom of the net, closing it and turning it into a kind of giant sack. The seine is “pursed” with the fish trapped inside.

This is what happens on a lucky day. But mackerel can be very irritating fish. Sometimes the whole school will suddenly dive and race away to safety, just the moment before the trap closes. Fishermen must have patience as well as skill.

Before engines went to sea, the men had to purse the seine by hand. Since their schooner carried no ice, they cleaned the fish, salted them and packed them into barrels as fast as possible. Everybody, including the skipper, worked at top speed. Even the cook lent a hand, and he was often a boy of ten who hung his pots in an open fireplace or smoked some of the mackerel in the chimney.

Fleets of fishing vessels go out together when the season is right. There’s a race for the fishing grounds, and then a race back to deliver the catch to market. In fishing towns all around the seacoasts, small forests of masts fill the harbors when the fleets are in.

Among the schooners you can also see sturdily-built trawlers, which are usually driven by steam-power. Newest of all are the vessels that work like quick-freeze factories. Machines on board clean the fish, cut them up, package them and freeze them right where they are caught. Or the fishermen may quick-freeze the whole fish, then bring them back to be thawed and sent to market.

People in fishing towns are proud of their fleets, and there’s a warm welcome for the vessel that comes in first with a big load.