“It was somewhat paradoxical that the steam engine industry had once again turned to the Pines to procue a charcoal that could aid in the burning of the less-combustile coal. Charcoal was a light fuel that burned steadily, with considerable heat, where draft was applied. The demand of charcoal meant that pineland, which had dropped to ten cents an acre, when up to $6 and then as high as $25 per acre in good areas.
The art of charcoaling required first the erection of a ‘fergen,’ or central core, that was essentially a rigid pole, 6- or 7-feet high, set vertically in the ground. The kiln was built around this, consisting of closely stacked pinewood, and covered with sod ‘floats,’ set with the grass facing inward. A notched log was laid against the side so the tender could get to the apex for inspection and ignition. Since there was a virtual absence of air, the kiln burned slowly downward for several days, with new fuel being constantly introduced at the neck. Ordinarily the tender spend his time in the little lean-to beside the kiln, so he could watch for too rapid burning or spreading of fire to the nearby woods. When the fire burned out, the kiln was allowed to cool carefully for a day or so. If the fresh coal were exposed while it was still hot it would crack into tiny bits, or perhaps burst into flame and negate a week’s work. After cooling, all that had to be done was rake off the san, that being all that remained of the sod, and bag or load the finished charcoal.
When the charcoal was a flourishing industry, the schooners came in to landings at Waretown, Forked River, Barnegat and Toms River. The wagons that brought goods out of the Pines held the equivalent of three cords, equal to about a hundred bushels at ten cents a bushel; or $9 a wagonload. The bottoms were set sliding, with old horseshoes nailed on as handles so the load could be jettisoned by a single swift yank. The coal wagons were drawn to the docks by teams of four ill-tempered mules. Most thought them unmanageable, but the teamsters handled them without reins, employing a sharp tongue and, perhaps more significantly, a long blacksnake whip!”
Taken from Kent Mountford's Closed Sea: From Manasquan to the Mullica, A History of Barnegat Bay, (Harvey Cedars, New Jersey: Down the Shore Publishing, 2002), 98-99.