THE WOMAN FROM NANTUCKET
Conversation among the captains was, for the next two days, confined to
two topics, speculation as to how soon they might expect a reply from
the Nantucket female and whether or not Mr. Langley would discharge
Hazeltine. On the latter point Captain Eri was decided.
“He won't be bounced,” said the Captain; “now you just put that down in
your log. Langley ain't a fool, and he can put two and two together as
well as the next feller. If I thought there was any need of it, I'd just
drop him a hint myself, but there ain't, so I shan't put my oar in. But
I wish you two could have heard that youngster talk to that McLoughlin
critter; 'twould have done you good. That boy's all right.”
Captain Jerry was alone when the expected letter came. He glanced at
the postmark, saw that it was Nantucket, and stuck the note behind
the clock. He did his best to forget it, but he looked so guilty when
Captain Perez returned at supper time that that individual suspected
something, made his friend confess, and, a little later when Captain Eri
came in, the envelope, bearing many thumb-prints, was propped up against
the sugar bowl in the middle of the table.
“We didn't open it, Eri,” said Perez proudly. “We did want to, but we
thought all hands ought to be on deck when anything as important as this
was goin' to be done.”
“He's been holdin' it up to the light for the last ha'f hour,” sneered
Captain Jerry. “Anybody 'd think it had a million dollars in it. For the
land's sake, open it, Eri, 'fore he has a fit!”
Captain Eri picked up the letter, looked it over very deliberately, and
then tore off the end of the envelope. The inclosure was another
sheet of note paper like the first epistle. The Captain took out his
spectacles, wiped them, and read the following aloud:
“CAPTAIN JEREMIAH BURGESS.
“Sir: I like your looks well enough, though it don't pay to put too much
dependence in looks, as nobody knows better than me. Besides, I judge
that picture was took quite a spell ago. Anyway, you look honest, and
I am willing to risk money enough to carry me to Orham and back, though
the dear land knows I ain't got none to throw away. If we don't agree
to sign articles, I suppose likely you will be willing to stand half the
fare. That ain't any more than right, the way I look at it. I shall come
to Orham on the afternoon train, Thursday. Meet me at the depot.
“Yours truly,
“MARTHA B. SNOW.
“P. S.--I should have liked it better if you was a Methodist, but we
can't have everything just as we want it in this world.”
Nobody spoke for a moment after the reading of this intensely practical
note. Captain Eri whistled softly, scratched his head, and then read the
letter over again to himself. At length Captain Perez broke the spell.
“Jerusalem!” he exclaimed. “She don't lose no time, does she?”
“She's pretty prompt, that's a fact,” assented Captain Eri.
Captain Jerry burst forth in indignation:
“Is THAT all you've got to say?” he inquired with sarcasm, “after
gittin' me into a scrape like this? Well now, I tell you one thing, I--”
“Don't go on your beam ends, Jerry,” interrupted Captain Eri. “There
ain't no harm done yit.”
“Ain't no harm done? Why how you talk, Eri Hedge! Here's a woman that
I ain't never seen, and might be a hundred years old, for all I know,
comin' down here to-morrow night to marry me by main force, as you might
say, and you set here and talk about--”
“Now, hold on, hold on, Jerry! She ain't goin' to marry you unless you
want her to, 'tain't likely. More I think of it, the more I like the
woman's way of doin' things. She's got sense, there's no doubt of that.
You can't sell HER a cat in a bag. She's comin' down here to see you and
talk the thing over, and I glory in her spunk.”
“Wants me to pay her fare! I see myself doin' it! I've got ways enough
to spend my money without paying fares for Nantucket folks.”
“If you and she sign articles, as she calls it, you'll have to pay more
than fares,” said Captain Perez, in a matter-of-fact tone. “I think same
as Eri does; she's a smart woman. We'll have to meet her at the depot,
of course.”
“Well _I_ won't! Cheeky thing! Let her find out where I am! I cal'late
she'll have to do some huntin'.”
“Now, see here, Jerry,” said Captain Eri, “you was jest as anxious to
have one of us get married as anybody else. You haven't got to marry
the woman unless you want to, but you have got to help us see the thing
through. I wish myself that we hadn't been quite so pesky anxious
to give her the latitude and longitude, and had took some sort of an
observation ourselves; but we didn't, and now we've got to treat her
decent. You'll be at that depot along with Perez and me.”
When Captain Eri spoke in that tone his two cronies usually obeyed
orders. Even the rebellious Jerry, who had a profound respect for his
younger friend, gave in after some grumbling.
They sat up until late, speculating concerning the probable age and
appearance of the expected visitor. Captain Perez announced that he
didn't know why it was, but he had a notion that she was about forty
and slim. Captain Jerry, who was in a frame of mind where agreement
with anyone was out of the question, gave it as his opinion that she
was thirty odd and rather plump. Captain Eri didn't hazard a guess, but
suggested that they wait and see.
But even Captain Eri's calmness was more or less assumed, for he did not
go fishing the next morning, but stayed about the house, whittling at
the model of a clipper ship and tormenting Captain Jerry. The model was
one that he had been at work upon at odd times ever since he gave up
sea-going. It had never been completed for the very good reason that
when one part was finished the Captain tore another part to pieces, and
began over again. It was a sort of barometer of his feelings, and when
his companions saw him take down the clipper and go to work, they knew
he was either thinking deeply upon a perplexing problem or was troubled
in his mind.
Captain Perez sang a good deal, principally confining his musical
efforts to a ballad with a chorus of,
| “Storm along, John;
| John, storm along;
| Ain't I glad my day's work's done!”
Also, he glanced at his watch every few minutes and then went to consult
the chronometer to make sure of the time.
Captain Jerry went up to the schoolhouse and gave its vacant rooms a
thorough sweeping for no particular reason except to be doing something.
His appetite was poor, and he actually forgot to feed Lorenzo, a
hitherto unheard-of slight, and one that brought down upon him a long
lecture from Captain Eri, who vowed that loss of memory was a sure sign
of lovesickness.
They started for the railway station immediately after supper. As they
passed John Baxter's house they noticed a light in an upper chamber, and
wondered if the old man was ill. Captain Eri would have stopped to find
out, but Captain Perez insisted that it could be done just as well when
they came back, and expressed a fear that they might miss the train.
Captain Jerry hadn't spoken since they left home, and walked gloomily
ahead with his hands in his pockets.
Mr. “Web” Saunders, fat and in his pink-striped shirtsleeves, sat upon
the steps of his saloon as they went by. He wished them an unctuous
good-evening. The oily smoothness of Mr. Saunders' voice cannot be
described with plain pen and ink; it gurgled with sweetness, like
molasses poured from a jug. This was not a special tone put on for the
occasion; no one except his wife ever heard him speak otherwise.
The response from the three captains was not enthusiastic, but Mr.
Saunders continued to talk of the weather, the fishing, and the
cranberry crop until a customer came and gave them a chance to get away.
“Slick! slick! slick!” commented Captain Eri, as they hurried along.
“Blessed if he don't pretty nigh purr. I like a cat fust-rate, but I'm
always suspicious of a cat-man. You know he's got claws, but you can't
tell where he's goin' to use 'em. When a feller like that comes slidin'
around and rubbin' his head against my shin, I always feel like keepin'
t'other foot ready for a kick. You're pretty sartin to need it one time
or another.”
The train was nearly an hour late this evening, owing to a hot box, and
the “ex-seafaring man” and his two friends peered anxiously out at it
from around the corner of the station. The one coach stopped directly
under the lights, and they could see the passengers as they came down
the steps. Two or three got out, but these were men. Then came an
apparition that caused Captain Jerry to gasp and clutch at Perez for
support.
Down the steps of the car came a tall, coal-black negress, and in her
hand was a canvas extension case, on the side of which was blazoned in
two-inch letters the fateful name, “M. B. Snow, Nantucket.”
Captain Eri gazed at this astounding spectacle for a full thirty
seconds. Then he woke up.
“Godfrey domino!” he ejaculated. “BLACK! BLACK! Run! Run for your lives,
'fore she sees us!”
This order was superfluous. Captain Jerry was already half-way to the
fence, and going at a rate which bid fair to establish a record for
his age. The others fell into his wake, and the procession moved across
country like a steeplechase.
They climbed over stone walls and splashed into meadows. They took every
short cut between the station and their home. As they came in sight of
the latter, Captain Perez' breath gave out almost entirely.
“Heave to!” he gasped. “Heave to, or I'll founder. I wouldn't run
another step for all the darkies in the West Indies.”
Captain Eri paused, but it was only after a struggle that Captain Jerry
was persuaded to halt.
“I shan't do it, Eri!” he vowed wildly. “I shan't do it! There ain't no
use askin' me; I won't marry that black woman! I won't, by thunder!”
“There! there! Jerry!” said Captain Eri soothingly. “Nobody wants you
to. There ain't no danger now. She didn't see us.”
“Ain't no danger! There you go again, Eri Hedge! She'll ask where I live
and come right down in the depot wagon. Oh! Lordy! Lordy!”
The frantic sacrifice was about to bound away again, when Captain Eri
caught him by the arm.
“I'll tell you what,” he said, “we'll scoot for Eldredge's shanty and
hide there till she gits tired and goes away. P'raps she won't come,
anyhow.”
The deserted fish shanty, property of the heirs of the late Nathaniel
Eldredge, was situated in a hollow close to the house. In a few moments
the three were inside, with a sawhorse against the door. Then Captain
Eri pantingly sat down on an overturned bucket and laughed until the
tears came into his eyes.
“That's it, laff!” almost sobbed Captain Jerry. “Set there and tee-hee
like a Bedlamite. It's what you might expect. Wait till the rest of the
town finds out about this; they'll do the laffin' then, and you won't
feel so funny. We'll never hear the last of it in this world. If that
darky comes down here, I'll--I'll drown her; I will--”
“I don't blame Jerry,” said Perez indignantly. “I don't see much to laff
at. Oh, my soul and body there she comes now.”
They heard the rattle of a heavy carriage, and, crowding together at the
cobwebbed window, saw the black shape of the “depot wagon” rock past.
They waited, breathless, until they saw it go back again up the road.
“Did you lock the dining-room door, Perez?” asked Captain Eri.
“Course I didn't. Why should I?”
It was a rather senseless question. Nobody locks doors in Orham except
at bedtime.
“Humph!” grunted Captain Eri. “She'll see the light in the dining room,
and go inside and wait, more 'n likely. Well, there's nothin' for us to
do but to stay here for a while, and then, if she ain't gone, one of
us 'll have to go up and tell her she won't suit and pay her fare home,
that's all. I think Jerry ought to be the one,” he added mischievously.
“He bein' the bridegroom, as you might say.”
“Me!” almost shouted the frantic Captain Jerry. “You go to grass! You
fellers got me into this scrape, and now let's see you git me out of it.
I don't stir one step.”
They sat there in darkness, the silence unbroken, save for an occasional
chuckle from the provoking Eri. Perez, however, was meditating, and
observed, after a while:
“Snow! That's a queer name for a darky, ain't it?”
“That colored man up at Barry's place was named White,” said Captain
Jerry, “and he was black as your hat. Names don't count.”
“They say colored folks make good cooks, Jerry,” slyly remarked Eri.
“Maybe you'd better think it over.”
The unlucky victim of chance did not deign an answer, and the minutes
crept slowly by. After a long while they heard someone whistling. Perez
went to the window to take an observation.
“It's a man,” he said disappointedly. “He's been to our house, too. My
land! I hope he didn't go in. It's that feller Hazeltine; that's who
'tis.”
“Is it?” exclaimed Eri eagerly. “That's so! so 'tis. Let's give him a
hail.”
Before he could be stopped he had pulled the saw-horse from the door,
had opened the latter a little way, and, with his face at the opening,
was whistling shrilly.
The electrician looked up and down the dark road in a puzzled sort of
way, but evidently could not make up his mind from what quarter the
whistles came.
“Mr. Hazeltine!” hailed the Captain, in what might be called a whispered
yell or a shouted whisper. “Mr. Hazeltine! Here, on your lee bow. In the
shanty.”
The word “shanty” was the only part of the speech that brought light to
Ralph's mind, but that was sufficient; he came down the hill, left the
road, and plunged through the blackberry vines to the door.
“Who is it?” he asked. “Why, hello, Captain! What on earth--”
Captain Eri signaled him to silence, and then, catching his arm, pulled
him into the shanty and shut the door. Captain Jerry hastened to set the
saw-horse in place again.
“Mr. Hazeltine,” said Captain Eri, “let me make you acquainted with
Cap'n Perez and Cap'n Jerry, shipmates of mine. You've heard me speak of
'em.”
Ralph, in the darkness, shook two big hands and heard whispered voices
express themselves as glad to know him.
“You see,” continued Eri in a somewhat embarrassed fashion, “we're sort
of layin' to, as yer might say, waitin' to git our bearin's. We ain't
out of our heads; I tell you that, 'cause I know that's what it looks
like.”
The bewildered Hazeltine laughed and said he was glad to hear it.
To tell the truth, he had begun to think that something or other had
suddenly driven his nearest neighbors crazy.
“I--I--I don't know how to explain it to you,” the Captain stumbled on.
“Fact is, I guess I won't jest yit, if you don't mind. It does sound
so pesky ridic'lous, although it ain't, when you understand it. What we
want to know is, have you been to our house and is there anybody there?”
“Why, yes, I've been there. I rowed over and dropped in for a minute,
as you suggested the other day. The housekeeper--I suppose it was the
housekeeper--that opened the door, said you were out, and I--”
He was interrupted by a hopeless groan.
“I knew it!” wailed Captain Jerry. “I knew it! And you said there wa'n't
no danger, Eri!”
“Hush up, Jerry, a minute, for the love of goodness! What was she doin',
Mr. Hazeltine, this woman you thought was the housekeeper? Did she look
as if she was gettin' ready to go out? Did she have her bunnit on?”
“No. She seemed to be very much at home. That's why I thought--”
But again Captain Jerry broke in, “Well, by mighty!” he ejaculated.
“That's nice, now, ain't it! SHE goin' away! You bet she ain't! She's
goin' to stay there and wait, if it's forever. She's got too good a
thing. Jest as like 's not, M'lissy Busteed, or some other gab machine
like her, 'll be the next one to call, and if they see that great black
critter! Oh! my soul!”
“Black!” said Ralph amazedly. “Why, the woman at your house isn't black.
She's as white as I am, and not bad-looking for a woman of her age.”
“WHAT?” This was the trio in chorus. Then Captain Eri said:
“Mr. Hazeltine, now, honest and true, is that a fact?”
“Of course it's a fact.”
The Captain wiped his forehead. “Mr. Hazeltine,” he said, “if anybody
had told me a fortn't ago that I was one of the three biggest fools in
Orham, I'd have prob'ly rared up some. As 'tis now, I cal'late I'd thank
him for lettin' me off so easy. You'll have to excuse us to-night, I'm
afraid. We're in a ridic'lous scrape that we've got to git out of all
alone. I'll tell you 'bout it some day. Jest now wish you'd keep this
kind of quiet to oblige me.”
Hazeltine saw that this was meant as a gentle hint for his immediate
departure, and although he had a fair share of curiosity, felt there
was nothing else to do. He promised secrecy, promised faithfully to call
again later in the week, and then, the sawhorse having been removed by
Captain Perez,--Captain Jerry was apparently suffering from a sort of
dazed paralysis,--he went away. As soon as he had gone, Captain Eri
began to lay down the law.
“Now then,” he said, “there's been some sort of a mistake; that's plain
enough. More 'n likely, the darky took the wrong satchel when she got up
to come out of the car. That woman at the house is the real Marthy Snow
all right, and we've got to go right up there and see her. Come on!”
But Captain Jerry mutinied outright. He declared that the sight of that
darky had sickened him of marrying forever, and that he would not see
the candidate from Nantucket, nor any other candidate. No persuasion
could budge him. He simply would not stir from that shanty until the
house had been cleared of female visitors.
“Go and see her yourself, if you're so set on it,” he declared. “I
shan't!”
“All right,” said Captain Eri calmly. “I will. I'll tell her you're
bashful, but jest dyin' to be married, and that she can have you if she
only waits long enough.”
With this he turned on his heel and walked out.
“Hold on, Eri!” shouted the frantic Jerry. “Don't you do it! Don't you
tell her that! Land of love, Perez, do you s'pose he will?”
“I don't know,” was the answer in a disgusted tone. “You hadn't ought to
have been so pig-headed, Jerry.”
Captain Eri, with set teeth and determination written on his face,
walked straight to the dining-room door. Drawing a long breath, he
opened it and stepped inside. A woman, who had been sitting in Captain
Perez' rocker, rose as he entered.
The woman looked at the Captain and the Captain looked at her. She was
of middle age, inclined to stoutness, with a pair of keen eyes behind
brass-rimmed spectacles, and was dressed in a black “alpaca” gown that
was faded a little in places and had been neatly mended in others. She
spoke first.
“You're not Cap'n Burgess?” she said.
“No, ma'am,” said the Captain uneasily. “My name is Hedge. I'm a sort of
messmate of his. You're Miss Snow?”
“Mrs. Snow. I'm a widow.”
They shook hands. Mrs. Snow calmly expectant; the Captain very nervous
and not knowing how to begin.
“I feel as if I knew you, Cap'n Hedge,” said the widow, as the Captain
slid into his own rocker. “The boy on the depot wagon told me a lot
about you and Cap'n Ryder and Cap'n Burgess.”
“Did, hey?” The Captain inwardly vowed vengeance on his chum's
grandnephew. “Hope he gave us a clean bill.”
“Well, he didn't say nothin' against you, if that's what you mean. If he
had, I don't think it would have made much diff'rence. I've lived
long enough to want to find out things for myself, and not take folks'
say-so.”
The lady seeming to expect some sort of answer to this statement,
Captain Eri expressed his opinion that the plan of finding out things
for one's self was a good “idee.” Then, after another fidgety silence,
he observed that it was a fine evening. There being no dispute on this
point, he endeavored to think of something else to say. Mrs. Snow,
however, saved him the trouble.
“Cap'n Hedge,” she said, “as I'm here on what you might call a bus'ness
errand, and as I've been waitin' pretty nigh two hours already, p'raps
we'd better talk about somethin' besides fine evenin's. I've got to be
lookin' up a hotel or boardin' house or somewheres to stay to-night, and
I can't wait much longer. I jedge you got my letter and was expectin'
me. Now, if it ain't askin' too much, I'd like to know where Cap'n
Burgess is, and why he wa'n't at the depot to meet me.”
This was a leading question, and the Captain was more embarrassed than
ever. However, he felt that something had to be done and that it was
wisest to get it over with as soon as possible.
“Well, ma'am,” he said, “we--we got your letter all right, and, to tell
you the truth, we was at the depot--Perez and me and Jerry.”
“You WAS! Well, then, for the land of goodness, why didn't you let me
know it? Such a time as I had tryin' to find out where you lived and
all!”
The Captain saw but one plausible explanation, and that was the plain
truth. Slowly he told the story of the colored woman and the extension
case. The widow laughed until her spectacles fell off.
“Well, there!” she exclaimed. “If that don't beat all! I don't blame
Cap'n Burgess a mite. Poor thing! I guess I'd have run, too, if I'd have
seen that darky. She was settin' right in the next seat to me, and she
had a shut-over bag consid'rable like mine, and when she got up to git
out, she took mine by mistake. I was a good deal put out about it, and
I expect I talked to her like a Dutch uncle when I caught up with her.
Dear! dear! Where is Cap'n Burgess?”
“He's shut up in a fish shanty down the road, and he's so upsot that I
dunno's he'll stir from there tonight. Jerry ain't prejudiced, but that
darky was too much for him.”
And then they both laughed, the widow because of the ludicrous nature
of the affair and the Captain because of the relief that the lady's
acceptance of it afforded his mind.
Mrs. Snow was the first to become grave. “Cap'n Hedge,” she said,
“there's one or two things I must say right here. In the first place, I
ain't in the habit of answerin' advertisements from folks that wants
to git married; I ain't so hard up for a man as all that comes to.
Next thing, I didn't come down here with my mind made up to marry Cap'n
Burgess, not by no means. I wanted to see him and talk with him, and
tell him jest all about how things was with me and find out about him
and then--why, if everything was shipshape, I might, p'raps, think
about--”
“Jest so, ma'am, jest so,” broke in her companion. “That's about the
way we felt. You see, there's prob'ly a long story on both sides, and if
you'll excuse me I'll go down to the shanty and see if I can't git Jerry
up here. It'll be a job, I'm 'fraid, but--”
“No, you shan't either. I'll tell you what we'll do. It's awful late
now and I must be gittin' up to the tavern. S'pose, if 'tain't too much
trouble, you walk up there with me and I'll stay there to-night and
to-morrer I'll come down here, and we'll all have a common-sense talk.
P'raps by that time your friend 'll have the darky woman some off his
mind, too.”
Needless to say Captain Eri agreed to this plan with alacrity. The
widow carefully tied on a black, old-fashioned bonnet, picked up a fat,
wooden-handled umbrella and the extension case, and said that she was
ready.
They walked up the road together, the Captain carrying the extension
case. They talked, but not of matrimonial prospects. Mrs. Snow knew
almost as much about the sea and the goings and comings thereon as did
her escort, and the conversation was salty in the extreme. It
developed that the Nantucket lady had a distant relative who was in the
life-saving service at Cuttyhunk station, and as the Captain knew every
station man for twenty miles up and down the coast, wrecks and maritime
disasters of all kinds were discussed in detail.
At the Traveler's Rest Mrs. Snow was introduced by the unblushing Eri as
a cousin from Provincetown, and, after some controversy concerning the
price of board and lodging, she was shown up to her room. Captain Eri
walked home, absorbed in meditation. Whatever his thoughts were they
were not disagreeable, for he smiled and shook his head more than once,
as if with satisfaction. As he passed John Baxter's house he noticed
that the light in the upper window was still burning.
Captain Perez was half asleep when Eri opened the door of the shanty.
Captain Jerry, however, was very much awake and demanded to be told
things right away. His friend briefly explained the situation.
“I don't care if she stays here till doomsday,” emphatically declared
the disgruntled one, “I shan't marry her. What's she like, anyhow?”
He was surprised at the enthusiasm of Captain Eri's answer.
“She's a mighty good woman; that's what I think she is, and she'd make
a fust-class wife for any man. I hope you'll say so, too, when you
see her. There ain't nothin' hity-tity about her, but she's got more
common-sense than any woman I ever saw. But there! I shan't talk another
bit about her to-night. Come on home and turn in.”
And go home and turn in they did, but not without protestation from the
pair who had yet to meet the woman from Nantucket.