Later also Ben found it hard to recall anything else said by Faith or
himself--small talk, surely--in those moments of nearness while
_Artemis_, clear of the harbor shipping, moved down on them tranquilly,
a great wind-begotten dream realizing herself in the here-and-now.
A round bulky man held a rope at the bow of _Artemis_. Below him a face
cruelly pure and calm, carved from apple-wood a year ago by an old
artist of Dorchester who was nearly blind, stared into a world of many
homelands. In the momentary enclosing silence, Ben saw a flash of
startled recognition between that stout man in the bow and Daniel Shawn;
since both looked away immediately, Ben dismissed it as a vagary of his
own imagination, or none of his business. The stout man was unknown to
Ben, perhaps one of the replacements signed on at Kingston; a greasy,
unrevealing face. Ben heard a flurry of shouts from men aboard and men
on the dock who knew each other. He also found a face he knew, and
waved--the mate, yellow-haired Jan Dyckman, who had visited at Roxbury,
brick-solid and big, a shy and gentle soul ashore, moving with a warm
confidence in all the ways of his Lutheran God. But Jan did not see
Ben's wave or had no time for it, taut at the starboard rail and
watching simultaneously every inch of remaining canvas, every ripple
between _Artemis_ and the wharf.
"Ahoy, Mistress Faith!" That was a north-wind voice overriding all other
commotion, from the bald giant looming aft near the helmsman. _Artemis_
was yet some thirty yards away, gliding, barely disturbing the filthy
dockside water. Ben's glance took in the giant--it could only be Peter
Jenks--with a wonder that such an iron mountain could have begotten the
loveliness of Faith. Even that far away Captain Jenks was more than
life-size, and surely knew it. His nose was flattened like a board, set
in deep leather creases between small eyes icy blue in the
sunlight--courageous arctic eyes without compassion.
Faith jumped at her father's shout, clutching her skirt prettily.
"Clarissa! My kerchief--quickly!" Her hand behind her snapped a finger
impatiently before the Negro girl gave her a white kerchief; then Faith
was running, waving the cloth, expertly careless of ropes and tackle and
the roustabouts who lurched out of her path. She knew her way; she was
not impeding them, and stepped back properly when it was time for that
rope in the bow to leap ashore.
Another snaked from the pier to be caught amidships. The lady _Artemis_
needed no restraining thrust of the fenders. She nudged wet timbers as
one arranging a pillow for her head, and fell asleep.
* * * * *
"I would not," said Reuben, "utter any gratuitous multiloquence which
could be construed as a detraction, libel or impudicitous derogation of
another man's periwig."
"I yield. You know bigger and sillier words than I do."
"Then will you tell me, sir, what on earth you were looking for over
there by the pond?"
"Mm-yas," said Mr. Welland, "the pond. Why, I've been longing for years
to learn how peeper frogs peep. Don't have much time to
ramble--difficult for a doctor to break away, but now and then I do,
with the excuse of hunting for herbs. I heard 'em peeping hereabouts,
thought at last I might catch 'em at it. No such thing. They hide when I
peep at 'em, and devil a peep will they peep. Why's that?"
"Too near them, sir, and not still enough. You should have sat well
away from the water, with no motion for at least a quarter-hour."
Deliberately Mr. Welland took snuff from an enameled box, and sneezed, a
light explosion with a double after-echo. "Fi-_choo_-shoo!... Mr. Cory,
I take it they have peeped in your presence?"
"Oh yes. The little throats swell up enormous and they shake all over."
To soften the blow Reuben added: "I'm sure they would for you, Mr.
Welland. Merely a matter of making yourself look like a rock."
"At my age I'm to imitate a boulder--boulder and yet more bold."
"Paronomasia," said Reuben. "The ultimate in wit."
"Boo! You imitated a rock rather well yourself. I never heard a sound.
When I first saw you I thought I had to do with one of the Little
People."
"Ah! The invisible world!" Daringly Reuben made horns of his fingers and
waggled them. He was very happy, no longer much concerned to wonder why.
"Might I ask further, why you don't find it strange that I should spend
my declining years endeavoring to watch frogs peep?"