Born by the Sea

By Violet Mae Bledsoe Robinson Daskevich

In the early nineteen hundreds, a small group of fishermen settled in a small coastal town in Texas led by Mr. Ball, commonly called King Fisherman. One day a shipwreck washed ashore and within the rubble, he found only one survivor, a baby girl and a dog. He named her Violet because of her beautiful, blue eyes. He raised her as his own until his death sixteen years later.

The child had grown into a beautiful young woman and had lost the only father she had ever known. Although many offered, she refused to live with anyone in the little village. She had lived her life on the beach, free as a bird.

She left the small village without telling anyone, and traveled by train to the big city of Los Angeles, California. She lived in a rooming house with a wonderful lady who loved her, and later took a job as an usher in a theater. Everyone she met loved her innocence and beauty, but the women were very jealous. She was fired for this reason and later kidnapped. Many people from her hometown had migrated to Los Angeles and joined in this exciting, mysterious and interesting adventure.

• Language: English
• Publisher: iUniverse
• Release date: Oct 18, 2004
• ISBN: 9780595782307

Violet Mae Bledsoe Robinson Daskevich

About the Author James Cicero Bledsoe Sr., born English parents, October 19, 1873 Shelby County, Tennessee. James thirteen, father died, educated Tennessee. Occupations: Engineer, Great Northern Railway, carrying Passengers, Freight, U S Mail, 1900?s, actor, Silent Movies, Western roles, writing hobby, published books, Born By the Sea, Western Trail 1923, lumber business, architect teaching carpentry. Marital life 1886?1944, several children, grandchildren, great, great grandchildren. Death, 1944, small town, Texas.

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CHAPTER 1 

Early in the Nineteenth Century, a party of twelve journeyed to Texas and settled on the coast, where they engaged in the business of fishing. A Mr. Ball, being the eldest, was nicknamed King Fisherman. He was of the Olden time, a Southern type and having different ideas from the rest, he never mixed with the rest, except long enough to give them orders of what to do. He did this in a very gruff way and always found plenty for them to do, such as minding their seines, nets and trot lines. The latter was generally used in the Colorado River near the mouth where it empties into the Matagorda Bay and here they made their big catches of catfish, mostly. The party always left the management to Mr. Ball. It seemed he always knew where and when to go and which fish would bite in the mornings and which ones would bite at night. He had made fishing a lifetime study. Before going to this place, he had traveled up and down the Natches River on the Western boundary line of Tennessee, in a little old houseboat, that he had constructed of his own design and skill.

Mr. Ball always had his own way and they never dared to cross him, but they could always do and work better when the King was not around. His presence seemed to upset them and they were all afraid of him, for what reasons they did not know, but still there was something about him they liked. One day when they were busy mending holes that had been torn in the seines, Mr. Ball came along and one of the six men forgot what he was doing. Ball did not notice him at first, but finally he called him by name and asked him, What in the heck are you doing? Do you think you are making a trammel net out of my seine?

Ball’s estimation of the men was the same as if they had been servants to him, and he considered everything belonging to the party, the same as if it was his own. Seeing a large torn place in the net, he was very much upset and continued, Wall I ‘lowed you most nearly catched an alligator from the looks of the torn place.

This completely upset the fisherman and he did not answer him at first. But when he did answer, as he fingered the cords, trying to do that which he knew not what, he said, Wall I was, and that was all he could say. Just then the Commission Man stepped up and interrupted the conversation by giving Mr. Ball an order for five hundred pounds of fish. They turned and walked away together.

Say, Bill, did you hear that? Will you come here and help me stop this hole before the boss comes back? Every time I try to tie a mash, I tear the darn thing bigger and besides we have got to use this thing pretty soon. Did you hear what that man said to the boss?

No, what did he say?

He told the boss to fetch him five hundred catfish. Well I’d laughed if we’d catch the one that got away out on this hole, we’d had him hankered out there in the bay now. Say, Bill, listen.

For God’s sake, shut up Sam you are always blowing off and you never say nothing. I was going to tell you, no fish ever tore this hole in this seine. You know this bag is one hundred and fifty feet long, has thirty-nine corks; this is the thirteenth cork where this hole is torn and this is the unlucky number. We will never have any luck as long as the boss is with us. He is the thirteenth one of us and thirteen is an unlucky number. Sam, luck is management, if you have good luck, you manage well; if you have bad luck, you are a bad manager. Where did the boss go, Sam?

I seen him over at his house trying to look through that funnel thing he has. What is that Bill? What does he use it for?

Well that is a field glass I ‘low. You can see things a far off with it. Here come the rest of the boys and their women. I ‘low we will have lots of help now to finish this bag.

Not far from where the little group of fisherman and their wives were gathered and were busy at their work mending the seine, they could see Old Ball’s hut. After leaving the commission man, he went to his house and seated himself on the little rustic bench on the porch, and he began thinking over the order he had just gotten from the commission man. He suddenly cast his eye in the direction of the coast and saw a pile of wreckage that had just drifted in. He entered his house and came out with field glass in hand and looked over the wreckage, trying to discover what it was.

He lay the glass on the bench and went down to the water’s edge to look over the mass of piled up wreckage. Here he found a large Newfoundland dog standing out at the water’s edge gazing into the water. He spoke to the dog, but apparently he did not see nor hear him. Ball spoke the second time, but the dog took a step or two towards the water and never once looked at him. Ball called him many names, but still the dog did not make up with him; instead he continued to look out toward the wreckage. Ball began to talk to the dog just as though he could understand every word he was saying; finally he called him Trusty. To this the dog waged his tail.

Are you hungry? Do you live near here? I never seed you before that I know of.

By this time, Ball was down on his knees by the side of the dog and had his hand on his back and began petting him.

Won’t you come with me now? Trusty, I will feed you. I know you are hungry.

Ball turned to walk away, but the dog did not follow him.

If you want to go out in the water, why in the heck don’t you go?

He turned and walked back to where the dog was still standing. He heard a screeching noise among the wreckage and was startled. He looked but could not see anything; he heard the noise again and again, but still he could see nothing. The dog walked back and forth, eager to go in. Ball watched him when the sound came again. Now as old Ball looked more closely, he spied a corner of a red shawl or blanket hanging over the corner of a box or a basket. He started to go in after what ever it was and the dog bounded in ahead of him and reached the object first. By walking on the timbers, he stood over it. Ball finally reached it and found a bundle in the basket. He picked it up and upon reaching the waters edge another cry came. He quickly set it down and began to unpack the basket to see what its contents were. A horrified look came over his face. Ball had always been a man without sympathy or respect, until now. He looked into the face of a baby almost perished from exposure and hunger.

A baby, he cried, My God, what has happened.

The dog is crowding nearer, eager to get a glimpse of the child. Ball looked around and seeing no one in sight, he picked up his find and rushed up the sunny slope to the house.

The women, who had come to help their husbands mend the seines, were finishing just as one of them looked toward the boss’s house and saw him carrying something in his arms and a large dog following him.

Looky, looky, one of the women said, just as she took a fall from hanging her toe in the seine, as she started to cross it. See what the boss has got? What do you suppose it is? See that big dog following him.

That is the first dog, I ever seed follow the boss, says another.

They all gathered in a bunch to see what he had. They gathered around and watched as he uncovered the package that he had set on the bench. Trusty stood near to see that nothing happened to the child. Old Ball searched the contents closely in hopes of finding something to tell where the child came from. He turned to the men and their wives, who were standing near him, but did not speak. Then he looked back to the child just as it begins to quiver its little lips as an attempt to cry. One of the women stepped up and offered to take it and feed it. He would not let her touch it.

It is hungry and cold. What do you women know about caring for a baby? he asked her. None of you have enough grit about you to care for yourself, much less a baby like this.

He picked the baby up and entered the house.

Let him go, he will find it more a burden, than a pleasure, one of the women said, as they turned and walked away.

Say, Bill, you know that God has sent this child here for our good, declared Sam.

What does God know about a little mite like this?

He knows all about it.

Where did it come from? another asks.

How do we know? He never tells us anything. I suppose his wife sent it to him. Didn’t you see him coming up from the Bay and the dog following him? I know he got it off that boat that came in this morning.

Old Ball had something now to keep him busy. One would not think he could love anybody or any living creature as he loves this child and the dog, Trusty, as he had called him. He had a very hard time at first, finding out how to care for the child, in the way she most needed. He would let no one show him, tell him or even come near the house.

Days, months, even years passed and things changed with the fisherman. Ball ceased to be cross with them. Everything seemed to move more smoothly than ever before. They went ahead with the work, but Ball never went out with them. He stayed at home with the baby, managed the selling of the fish, collected the money and divided it equally among them, even to the penny.

One day there was a gloom over them all. Sad hearts and tear-filled eyes could be seen among them when they gathered at the little cemetery and laid to rest their Chief, their Senior. They had never realized until now the value he had been to them, the help he really was in managing for them. Many times they thought they could handle their own affairs better if they were left alone. They began to realize now as the last little shovel of dirt was cast on the grave, over his lifeless form, that the state of affairs was soon to fall on them.

Now sixteen years had passed and Ball is dead and buried. Violet, as he had named her for her blue eyes that so reminded him of the wild violets that grew in the fields, was his only treasure and thought. She had been thinking and wondering in her grief if she could return to the little adobe hut where Old Ball had cherished her. Violet now for the first time realizes she is alone in the world, to go out to find another home and a way to make a living. No one had come near her since the funeral. She had walked away to a nearby spot where she would find and gather many violets. She now returns to her foster father’s grave, kneeling by it she said, Daddy did you call me? I heard you. I was not far away gathering some violets for you. Oh, Daddy, I am so lonely. Why did you go away? Why did you not take me with you? Nobody here loves a little girl like me.

Old Trusty, her dog, had disappeared, and they never knew where he went or what happened to him. Ball loved the dog equally with the child, for he always thought Trusty had save the child’s life. There had been a shipwreck and he had in someway rescued her at sea. He was holding her on the floating mass of ruins, until she had drifted ashore. Through all the days and years, Ball had seen the value of having Trusty with him. He felt that nothing could happen to Violet when he was away. After Trusty disappeared, Old Ball seemed to be failing day by day, until at last he could bear the grief no longer.

Ball was not friendly with the rest of the fisherman, though he never bothered them after the finding of the baby and the dog. Aside from these, there was Mr. Beebe and his wife, the village postmaster and the merchant. Old Ball forbids intimacy with these two. He was in himself just a strange mystery from some unknown part of the world. He had come here eighteen years ago, lived his old quiet life and died. He had lived alone up to that glorious day, sixteen years ago, when on that one special day the sea had borne to him a lovely baby girl.

Violet knew very little of books and studies. All Old Ball had taught her was to love the sea and flowers just as she had grown as a flower grows; she only knew life as it was. She knew