CHAPTER XVII.
THEY MARRY, AND GO ON TO THE ISLAND.
The wedding was at the widow Hadlock’s; but Captain Rhines made theinfare, as ’twas called,--which was an entertainment given the dayafter the wedding at the house of the bridegroom. To this were invitedall who had aided in building the house, including the girls whoprepared the victuals; and a merry time they had of it.
It was very hard for Sally and her mother to part. Since the death ofher father, and while the other children were small, Sally had been hermother’s great dependence; and, as they came to the edge of the water,the widow lifted up her voice and wept.
Sally, with her eyes full, strove to comfort her mother.
“Well, I ought not to feel so, I know; but it sort o’ brings upeverything, and tears open all the old wounds. May God bless you!you’ve been a good child to me in all my trials, and, I doubt not,you’ll make a good wife. There’s a blessing promised in the Scripturesto those who are dutiful to their parents. Keep the Lord’s day, Sally,as you’ve been taught to do, and seek the one thing needful.”
Ben had chosen a sunny, calm morning, that the impressions made uponSally’s mind might be as pleasant as possible, not dreaming thatshe had already visited the island, and been all over the house.Nevertheless, as he sat down to the oars, his old fears began somewhatto revive; but Providence ordered matters in a much better manner thanhe could have done, to render Sally’s first impressions of the islandboth pleasant and permanent.
When he left it the last time, knowing that Sally would return withhim, he had crammed the great fireplace with dry wood, and pushed underthe forestick the top of a dry fir, with the leaves all on, and coveredwith cones full of balsam. They were well on their way when a blackcloud rose suddenly from the north-west, denoting that the wind, whichhad been south for some days, was about to shift, with a squall.
“We are two thirds over now,” said Ben; “we shall be head to the sea,and soon get under the lee of the island; ’tis better to go ahead thanto go back.”
“I wish we were there now,” said Sally to herself, as she thought ofthat sheltered spot behind the thick woods, that no wind could getthrough.
“Sit down in the bottom of the canoe, Sally; if the water flies overyou, don’t move.”
When the squall struck, the wind seemed to shriek right out, and in aninstant raised a furious sea, drenching them with water from head tofoot. Sally uttered not a word, but sat perfectly still, though thecold spray flew over and ran under her, wetting her through and through.
The little boat, managed with consummate skill and strength, rode thesea like an egg-shell. It began to grow smoother as they approached thehigh woods on the island, when Ben, exerting his strength, drove herthrough the water, and they were soon at the mouth of the brook, whereit was as smooth as a mill-pond. Jumping out, he dragged the canoe fromthe water, and, taking Sally out, stood her, all dripping, on the beach.
“What a calm place,” she exclaimed, “after that dreadful sea! O, youwicked Ben, how could you tell me ’twas such an awful place?”
“You’re shaking with the cold; let’s go where there’s a fire;” andcatching her up, he ran into the house with her; then striking fire, helighted the fir top under the forestick; in an instant the bright flameflashed through the pile of wood, and roared up the chimney, diffusinga cheerful warmth through the room. Ben pulled up the great settle;Sally stretched herself upon it, her wet garments smoking in the heat.
“Isn’t this nice?” she said, as, safe from danger, she basked in thewarm blaze. “I shall always love this great fireplace after this, aslong as I live.”
Ben was delighted. He knew by experience the power of strongcontrasts,--for the whole life of a seaman is made up of them,--andthat nothing could have made the island seem so much like home toSally, as there finding safety when in danger, and warmth whenshivering with cold.
They now went over the house together; and Sally made Ben completelyhappy by telling him she would have been thankful for a house not halfso good. We see in this well-matched and hardy pair the representativesof those who laid broad and deep the foundations of our freeinstitutions, and whose strength was in their homes.
They flung themselves with alacrity upon these hardships, which wereto procure for them a heritage of their own,--the product of theirown energies,--confident in their own resources, and the protection ofthat Being whom they had been educated to believe helps those who helpthemselves.
They were now on an island, in the stormy Atlantic, six miles from thenearest land, which, with the exception of a little strip of grassalong the beach, was an unbroken forest.
Here they had commenced married life, in the face of a long, hardwinter.
It may seem to many of our readers idle to talk about happiness inrelation to people in such circumstances. They, perhaps judging fromtheir own feelings, wonder how they could pass their time.
In the first place, they had health and strength, were not troubledwith dyspepsia, and hence did not look at life through greenspectacles. They took pride in overcoming obstacles, and feeling thatthey were equal to the emergency. They had plenty to do from the timethey rose in the morning till they went to bed at night; not a momentto brood over and dread difficulties; and a June day was too short forall they found to do in it. Finally, they loved each other, had anobject to look forward to, had never known any of those things whichare considered by many as necessary to happiness, and thus neitherpined after nor missed them.
Sally had plenty of bed-clothes, which she had made herself; alsobeautiful table-cloths and towels of linen, figured, that she had spun,woven, and bleached; and tow towels, coarse sheets, and table-clothsfor every day. One little looking-glass, about six inches by eight insize, graced the wall, with a comb-case, made of pasteboard, hangingbelow it. They had one really beautiful piece of furniture, which herfather had brought from England--a mahogany secretary, with book-casesand drawers, and inlaid with different kinds of wood, contrastingstrangely with the rough logs against which it rested. They had chairswith round posts, and bottoms made of ash-splints; mugs, bowls, atea-pot, and pitchers of earthen ware; and pewter plates, from thelargest platter to the smallest dishes and porringers; also an ironskillet. Ben had a shoe-maker’s bench, awls and lasts, and quite a goodset of carpenter’s tools.
Sally now put all the earthen and new pewter ware upon the dressers,which made quite a show.
“I declare, Ben, I’ve forgotten my candle-moulds, and we’ve got nolight. Here’s a lamp, but not a drop of oil or wick in it.”
“I’ll shoot a seal,--I saw three or four on the White Bull when we cameover,--then to-morrow you can try out the blubber.”
Ben was better than his word, for before night he shot two.
There was one piece of property that Sally valued more than anythingelse, because ’twas alive, and there was such a look of home about it.
The widow Hadlock had a line-backed cow, that gave a great mess ofmilk. Sally had milked her ever since she was large enough to milk;indeed, she milked her that memorable night when Ben and Sam Johnsonwent blueberrying in the widow’s parlor.
They raised a calf from her, which was marked just like the old cow,and Mrs. Hadlock had given it to Sally. The creature, having beenbrought up with a large stock of cattle, missing her mates, had beenvery lonesome on the island, and roared and moaned a great deal. AsSally opened the door to throw out some water, the heifer came onthe gallop, and, putting her feet on the door-stone, rubbed her noseagainst Sally’s shoulder, and licked her face. The tears came intoSally’s eyes in a moment. “You good old soul,” said she, putting herarms round her neck,--half a mind to kiss her,--“do you know me, andwere you glad to see me? I wish I had an ear of corn to give you.”
After this the cow made no more ado, but went to feeding, perfectlycontented with the knowledge that her old mistress was present. Asnight came on, Sally made the discovery that they had no milk-pail; butBen was equal to the emergency: he cut down a maple
, cut a trough init, drove the cow astride of it, while Sally milked her into this novelpail. That evening Ben dug out a pine log, put a bottom in it, and abail, then drove two hoops on it, and made a milk-pail.
The next day Sally tried out the seals, while Ben went into the swampand got some cooper’s flags, which he cut into short pieces, forlamp-wicks.
Fowling, for a person in Ben’s situation, was not merely a source ofpleasure, but of profit, as the feathers sold readily for cash, thebodies were good for food, and could be exchanged at the store forgroceries, or with the farmers for wool and flax, which Sally made intocloth.
Ben had a little yellow dog, with white on the end of his tail, thatwould _play_. Sea-fowl possess a great share of curiosity, which leadsthem to swim up to anything strange, in order to see what it is. Theywould often swim in to a squirrel, playing in the bushes at the water’sedge, to see what he’s about. The gunners take advantage of this traitin their character; they teach a little dog to play with a stone on thebeach: he’ll roll it along the ground, stand up on his hind legs withit in his fore paws, and when he gets tired of it, his master’ll throwhim another from his ambush. The birds swim in to see what he is doing,and are killed, and the little dog swims off and brings them ashore.All dogs cannot be taught this, only those who have a genius for it.
Tige Rhines would pick up birds right in the surf, or in the dead ofwinter, but could never be taught to play; he was too dignified.
It is impossible for one destitute of a taste for fowling to conceiveof the intensity which the passion will acquire by indulgence. Ben wasso eager for birds, that he would lie on a ledge till Sailor froze hisears and tail. There were a great many minks on the island, whose furswere valuable: these Sailor would track to their holes, when Ben wouldsmoke them out.
The widow Hadlock had brought up her family to cherish a greatreverence for the Lord’s day. Ben had been trained by his mother in thesame way; but, after leaving home, he, like most seafaring men, carrieda traveller’s conscience, and did many things on that day which wouldnot have met her approval.
One Sabbath morning a whole flock of coots swam into the mouth ofthe brook to drink; ’twas a superb chance for a shot. Ben, without amoment’s hesitation, took down his gun from the hook, and was justgoing out the door when Sally laid her hand on his arm.
“Ben, where are you going?”
“To shoot those coots; I never saw such a chance for a shot in my life.I shouldn’t wonder if I could knock over twenty with this big gun.”
“Why, Ben, you must be out of your head; do you know what day ’tis?would you go gunning on the Lord’s day?”
“No, I wouldn’t _go_ a-gunning; but when they come right in under mynose, asking to be shot, I’d shoot them.”
“Well, I never would begin by breaking the Lord’s day; ’tis not right,and we shall not prosper; if we’ve not much else, let us, at least,have a clear conscience. What do you think your father and motherwould say, if they heard you had fired a gun on the Lord’s day?”
“It wouldn’t trouble father much; he would do the same himself; but’twould mother, and I see it does you.”
He took his ramrod, and thumped on the side of the house; the cootstook to flight in an instant.
“There goes the temptation,” said he. “I didn’t know before that youwas a professor of religion.”
“No more I ain’t, nor a possessor either; wish I was; but I mean tokeep the Lord’s day; I’ll do that much, any way.”
“I know you’re right, Sally; but you must make some allowance for afeller who has been so long at sea, and couldn’t keep it, if he would,as people can ashore. Suppose a hawk was carrying off a chicken on theSabbath--wouldn’t you let me shoot it?”
“No, I’m sure I wouldn’t; but if an eagle was carrying off a baby, Iwould.”
This was the first and only time Ben ever took the gun down on theSabbath. They made it a day of rest.
They had some good books, and one Sally’s mother had given her, whichshe was very fond of reading, called “Hooks and Eyes for Christian’sBreeches.” It was a queer title, but a very good book. In those dayspeople did not wear suspenders, but kept their breeches up by buttoningthe waistband, or by a belt. Where people were well-formed, and hadgood hips, they would keep up very well; but when they were all theway of a bigness, or were careless and didn’t button their waistbandstight, they would slip down; so some had hooks and eyes to keep themup, and prevent this by hooking them to the waistcoat. Thus this bookwas designed for those slouching, careless Christians who needed hooksand eyes to their breeches, and were slack in their religious duties.