The oyster-boat _Bertha B_ lay off her pier at Bivalve, the great New Jersey oyster shipping centre. On either side of her were other craft of the oyster fleet, all packed together like cigars in a box, and all held fast to one another by stout hawsers, for the tide in the Maurice River was running out at a gallop, driven by a high northeast wind. Yet an observer could hardly have told whether one boat or a dozen lay off the pier, so dark was the November morning. Heavy clouds obscured the sky, hiding star and moon. Not the faintest sign of daybreak was yet visible in the east. A dense mist, that even in daylight would have made things appear uncertain and indistinct, drove before the high w…
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