owned a trawl. There were some schooners and a small brig slowly going
to pieces by the wharves, and indeed all Deephaven looked more or less
out of repair. All along shore one might see dories and wherries and
whale-boats, which had been left to die a lingering death. There is
something piteous to me in the sight of an old boat. If one I had used
much and cared for were past its usefulness, I should say good by to it,
and have it towed out to sea and sunk; it never should be left to fall
to pieces above high-water mark.
Even the commonest fishermen felt a satisfaction, and seemed to realize
their privilege, in being residents of Deephaven; but among the nobility
and gentry there lingered a fierce pride in their family and town
records, and a hardly concealed contempt and pity for people who were
obliged to live in other parts of the world. There were acknowledged to
be a few disadvantages,--such as living nearly a dozen miles from the
railway,--but, as Miss Honora Carew said, the tone of Deephaven society
had always been very high, and it was very nice that there had never
been any manufacturing element introduced. She could not feel too
grateful, herself, that there was no disagreeable foreign population.
"But," said Kate one day, "wouldn't you like to have some pleasant new
people brought into town?"
"Certainly, my dear," said Miss Honora, rather doubtfully; "I have
always been public-spirited; but then, we always have guests in summer,
and I am growing old. I should not care to enlarge my acquaintance to
any great extent." Miss Honora and Mrs. Dent had lived gay lives in
their younger days, and were interested and connected with the outside
world more than any of our Deephaven friends; but they were quite
contented to stay in their own house, with their books and letters and
knitting, and they carefully read Littell and "the new magazine," as
they called the Atlantic.
The Carews were very intimate with the minister and his sister, and
there were one or two others who belonged to this set. There was Mr.
Joshua Dorsey, who wore his hair in a queue, was very deaf, and carried
a ponderous cane which had belonged to his venerated father,--a much
taller man than he. He was polite to Kate and me, but we never knew him
much. He went to play whist with the Carews every Monday evening, and
commonly went out fishing once a week. He had begun the practice of law,
but he had lost his hearing, and at the same time his lady-love had
inconsiderately fallen in love with somebody else; after which he
retired from active business life. He had a fine library, which he
invited us to examine. He had many new books, but they looked shockingly
overdressed, in their fresher bindings, beside the old brown volumes of
essays and sermons, and lighter works in many-volume editions.
A prominent link in society was Widow Tully, who had been the
much-respected housekeeper of old Captain Manning for forty years. When
he died he left her the use of his house and family pew, besides an
annuity. The existence of Mr. Tully seemed to be a myth. During the
first of his widow's residence in town she had been much affected when
obliged to speak of him, and always represented herself as having seen
better days and as being highly connected. But she was apt to be
ungrammatical when excited, and there was a whispered tradition that
she used to keep a toll-bridge in a town in Connecticut; though the
mystery of her previous state of existence will probably never be
solved. She wore mourning for the captain which would have befitted his
widow, and patronized the townspeople conspicuously, while she herself
was treated with much condescension by the Carews and Lorimers. She
occupied, on the whole, much the same position that Mrs. Betty Barker
did in Cranford. And, indeed, Kate and I were often reminded of that
estimable town. We heard that Kate's aunt, Miss Brandon, had never been
appreciative of Mrs. Tully's merits, and that since her death the others
had received Mrs. Tully into their society rather more.
It seemed as if all the clocks in Deephaven, and all the people with
them, had stopped years ago, and the people had been doing over and over
what they had been busy about during the last week of their unambitious
progress. Their clothes had lasted wonderfully well, and they had no
need to earn money when there was so little chance to spend it; indeed,
there were several families who seemed to have no more visible means of
support than a balloon. There were no young people whom we knew, though
a number used to come to church on Sunday from the inland farms, or "the
country," as we learned to say. There were children among the
fishermen's families at the shore, but a few years will see Deephaven
possessed by two classes instead of the time-honored three.
As for our first Sunday at church, it must be in vain to ask you to
imagine our delight when we heard the tuning of a bass-viol in the
gallery just before service. We pressed each other's hands most
tenderly, looked up at the singers' seats, and then trusted ourselves to
look at each other. It was more than we had hoped for. There were also a
violin and sometimes a flute, and a choir of men and women singers,
though the congregation were expected to join in the psalm-singing. The
first hymn was
"The Lord our God is full of might,
The winds obey his will,"
to the tune of St. Ann's. It was all so delightfully old-fashioned; our
pew was a square pew, and was by an open window looking seaward. We
also had a view of the entire congregation, and as we were somewhat
early, we watched the people come in, with great interest. The Deephaven
aristocracy came with stately step up the aisle; this was all the chance
there was for displaying their unquestioned dignity in public.
Many of the people drove to church in wagons that were low and old and
creaky, with worn buffalo-robes over the seat, and some hay tucked
underneath for the sleepy, undecided old horse. Some of the younger
farmers and their wives had high, shiny wagons, with tall
horsewhips,--which they sometimes brought into church,--and they drove
up to the steps with a consciousness of being conspicuous and enviable.
They had a bashful look when they came in, and for a few minutes after
they took their seats they evidently felt that all eyes were fixed upon
them; but after a little while they were quite at their ease, and looked
critically at the new arrivals.
The old folks interested us most. "Do you notice how many more old women
there are than old men?" whispered Kate to me. And we wondered if the
husbands and brothers had been drowned, and if it must not be sad to
look at the blue, sunshiny sea beyond the marshes, if the far-away white
sails reminded them of some ships that had never sailed home into
Deephaven harbor, or of fishing-boats that had never come back to land.
The girls and young men adorned themselves in what they believed to be
the latest fashion, but the elderly women were usually relics of old
times in manner and dress. They wore to church thin, soft silk gowns
that must have been brought from over the seas years upon years before,
and wide collars fastened with mourning-pins holding a lock of hair.
They had big black bonnets, some of them with stiff capes, such as Kate
and I had not seen before since our childhood. They treasured large
rusty lace veils of scraggly pattern, and wore sometimes, on pleasant
Sundays, white China-crape shawls with attenuated fringes; and there
were two or three of these shawls in the congregation which had been
dyed black, and gave an aspect of meekness and general unworthiness to
the aged wearer, they clung and drooped about the figure in such a
hopeless way. We used to notice often the most interesting scarfs,
without which no Deephaven woman considered herself in full dress.
Sometimes there were red India scarfs in spite of its being hot weather;
but our favorite ones were long strips of silk, embroidered along the
edges and at the ends with dismal-colored floss in odd patterns. I think
there must have been a fashion once, in Deephaven, of working these
scarfs, and I should not be surprised to find that it was many years
before the fashion of working samplers came about. Our friends always
wore black mitts on warm Sundays, and many of them carried neat little
bags of various designs on their arms, containing a precisely folded
pocket-handkerchief, and a frugal lunch of caraway seeds or red and
white peppermints. I should like you to see, with your own eyes, Widow
Ware and Miss Exper'ence Hull, two old sisters whose personal appearance
we delighted in, and whom we saw feebly approaching down the street this
first Sunday morning under the shadow of the two last members of an
otherwise extinct race of parasols.
There were two or three old men who sat near us. They were
sailors,--there is something unmistakable about a sailor,--and they had
a curiously ancient, uncanny look, as if they might have belonged to the
crew of the Mayflower, or even have cruised about with the Northmen in
the times of Harold Harfager and his comrades. They had been blown about
by so many winter winds, so browned by summer suns, and wet by salt
spray, that their hands and faces looked like leather, with a few deep
folds instead of wrinkles. They had pale blue eyes, very keen and quick;
their hair looked like the fine sea-weed which clings to the kelp-roots
and mussel-shells in little locks. These friends of ours sat solemnly at
the heads of their pews and looked unflinchingly at the minister, when
they were not dozing, and they sang with voices like the howl of the
wind, with an occasional deep note or two.
Have you never seen faces that seemed old-fashioned? Many of the people
in Deephaven church looked as if they must be--if not supernaturally
old--exact copies of their remote ancestors. I wonder if it is not
possible that the features and expression may be almost perfectly
reproduced. These faces were not modern American faces, but belonged
rather to the days of the early settlement of the country, the old
colonial times. We often heard quaint words and expressions which we
never had known anywhere else but in old books. There was a great deal
of sea-lingo in use; indeed, we learned a great deal ourselves,
unconsciously, and used it afterward to the great amusement of our
friends; but there were also many peculiar provincialisms, and among the
people who lived on the lonely farms inland we often noticed words we
had seen in Chaucer, and studied out at school in our English literature
class. Everything in Deephaven was more or less influenced by the sea;
the minister spoke oftenest of Peter and his fishermen companions, and
prayed most earnestly every Sunday morning for those who go down to the
sea in ships. He made frequent allusions and drew numberless
illustrations of a similar kind for his sermons, and indeed I am in
doubt whether, if the Bible had been written wholly in inland countries,
it would have been much valued in Deephaven.
The singing was very droll, for there was a majority of old voices,
which had seen their best days long before, and the bass-viol was
excessively noticeable, and apt to be a little ahead of the time the
singers kept, while the violin lingered after. Somewhere on the other
side of the church we heard an acute voice which rose high above all the
rest of the congregation, sharp as a needle, and slightly cracked, with
a limitless supply of breath. It rose and fell gallantly, and clung long
to the high notes of Dundee. It was like the wail of the banshee, which
sounds clear to the fated hearer above all other noises. We afterward
became acquainted with the owner of this voice, and were surprised to
find her a meek widow, who was like a thin black beetle in her pathetic
cypress veil and big black bonnet. She looked as if she had forgotten
who she was, and spoke with an apologetic whine; but we heard she had a
temper as high as her voice, and as much to be dreaded as the
equinoctial gale.
Near the church was the parsonage, where Mr. Lorimer lived, and the old
Lorimer house not far beyond was occupied by Miss Rebecca Lorimer. Some
stranger might ask the question why the minister and his sister did not
live together, but you would have understood it at once after you had
lived for a little while in town. They were very fond of each other, and
the minister dined with Miss Rebecca on Sundays, and she passed the day
with him on Wednesdays, and they ruled their separate households with
decision and dignity. I think Mr. Lorimer's house showed no signs of
being without a mistress, any more than his sister's betrayed the want
of a master's care and authority.
The Carews were very kind friends of ours, and had been Miss Brandon's
best friends. We heard that there had always been a coolness between
Miss Brandon and Miss Lorimer, and that, though they exchanged visits
and were always polite, there was a chill in the politeness, and one
would never have suspected them of admiring each other at all. We had
the whole history of the trouble, which dated back scores of years, from
Miss Honora Carew, but we always took pains to appear ignorant of the
feud, and I think Miss Lorimer was satisfied that it was best not to
refer to it, and to let bygones be bygones. It would not have been true
Deephaven courtesy to prejudice Kate against her grand-aunt, and Miss
Rebecca cherished her dislike in silence, which gave us a most grand
respect for her, since we knew she thought herself in the right; though
I think it never had come to an open quarrel between these majestic
aristocrats.
Miss Honora Carew and Mr. Dick and their elder sister, Mrs. Dent, had a
charmingly sedate and quiet home in the old Carew house. Mrs. Dent was
ill a great deal while we were there, but she must have been a very
brilliant woman, and was not at all dull when we knew her. She had
outlived her husband and her children, and she had, several years before
our summer there, given up her own home, which was in the city, and had
come back to Deephaven. Miss Honora--dear Miss Honora!--had been one of
the brightest, happiest girls, and had lost none of her brightness and
happiness by growing old. She had lost none of her fondness for society,
though she was so contented in quiet Deephaven, and I think she enjoyed
Kate's and my stories of our pleasures as much as we did hers of old
times. We used to go to see her almost every day. "Mr. Dick," as they
called their brother, had once been a merchant in the East Indies, and
there were quantities of curiosities and most beautiful china which he
had brought and sent home, which gave the house a character of its own.
He had been very rich and had lost some of his money, and then he came
home and was still considered to possess princely wealth by his
neighbors. He had a great fondness for reading and study, which had not
been lost sight of during his business life, and he spent most of his
time in his library. He and Mr. Lorimer had their differences of opinion
about certain points of theology, and this made them much fonder of each
other's society, and gave them a great deal of pleasure; for after every
series of arguments, each was sure that he had vanquished the other, or
there were alternate victories and defeats which made life vastly
interesting and important.
Miss Carew and Mrs. Dent had a great treasury of old brocades and laces
and ornaments, which they showed us one day, and told us stories of the
wearers, or, if they were their own, there were always some
reminiscences which they liked to talk over with each other and with us.
I never shall forget the first evening we took tea with them; it
impressed us very much, and yet nothing wonderful happened. Tea was
handed round by an old-fashioned maid, and afterward we sat talking in
the twilight, looking out at the garden. It was such a delight to have
tea served in this way. I wonder that the fashion has been almost
forgotten. Kate and I took much pleasure in choosing our tea-poys; hers
had a mandarin parading on the top, and mine a flight of birds and a
pagoda; and we often used them afterward, for Miss Honora asked us to
come to tea whenever we liked. "A stupid, common country town" some one
dared to call Deephaven in a letter once, and how bitterly we resented
it! That was a house where one might find the best society, and the most
charming manners and good-breeding, and if I were asked to tell you what
I mean by the word "lady," I should ask you to go, if it were possible,
to call upon Miss Honora Carew.
After a while the elder sister said, "My dears, we always have prayers
at nine, for I have to go up stairs early nowadays." And then the
servants came in, and she read solemnly the King of glory Psalm, which I
have always liked best, and then Mr. Dick read the church prayers, the
form of prayer to be used in families. We stayed later to talk with Miss
Honora after we had said good night to Mrs. Dent. And we told each
other, as we went home in the moonlight down the quiet street, how much
we had enjoyed the evening, for somehow the house and the people had
nothing to do with the present, or the hurry of modern life. I have
never heard that psalm since without its bringing back that summer night
in Deephaven, the beautiful quaint old room, and Kate and I feeling so
young and worldly, by contrast, the flickering, shaded light of the
candles, the old book, and the voices that said Amen.
There were several other fine old houses in Deephaven beside this and
the Brandon house, though that was rather the most imposing. There were
two or three which had not been kept in repair, and were deserted, and
of course they were said to be haunted, and we were told of their
ghosts, and why they walked, and when. From some of the local
superstitions Kate and I have vainly endeavored ever since to shake
ourselves free. There was a most heathenish fear of doing certain things
on Friday, and there were countless signs in which we still have
confidence. When the moon is very bright and other people grow
sentimental, we only remember that it is a fine night to catch hake.
_The Captains_
I should consider my account of Deephaven society incomplete if I did
not tell you something of the ancient mariners, who may be found every
pleasant morning sunning themselves like turtles on one of the wharves.
Sometimes there was a considerable group of them, but the less constant
members of the club were older than the rest, and the epidemics of
rheumatism in town were sadly frequent. We found that it was etiquette
to call them each captain, but I think some of the Deephaven men took
the title by brevet upon arriving at a proper age.
They sat close together because so many of them were deaf, and when we
were lucky enough to overhear the conversation, it seemed to concern
their adventures at sea, or the freight carried out by the Sea Duck, the
Ocean Rover, or some other Deephaven ship,--the particulars of the
voyage and its disasters and successes being as familiar as the
wanderings of the children of Israel to an old parson. There were
sometimes violent altercations when the captains differed as to the
tonnage of some craft that had been a prey to the winds and waves,
dry-rot, or barnacles fifty years before. The old fellows puffed away at
little black pipes with short stems, and otherwise consumed tobacco in
fabulous quantities. It is needless to say that they gave an immense
deal of attention to the weather. We used to wish we could join this
agreeable company, but we found that the appearance of an outsider
caused a disapproving silence, and that the meeting was evidently not to
be interfered with. Once we were impertinent enough to hide ourselves
for a while just round the corner of the warehouse, but we were afraid
or ashamed to try it again, though the conversation was inconceivably
edifying. Captain Isaac Horn, the eldest and wisest of all, was
discoursing upon some cloth he had purchased once in Bristol, which the
shopkeeper delayed sending until just as they were ready to weigh
anchor.
"I happened to take a look at that cloth," said the captain, in a loud
droning voice, "and as quick as I got sight of it, I spoke onpleasant
of that swindling English fellow, and the crew, they stood back. I was
dreadful high-tempered in them days, mind ye; and I had the gig manned.
We was out in the stream, just ready to sail. 'T was no use waiting any
longer for the wind to change, and we was going north-about. I went
ashore, and when I walks into his shop ye never see a creatur' so
wilted. Ye see the miser'ble sculpin thought I'd never stop to open the
goods, an' it was a chance I did, mind ye! 'Lor,' says he, grinning and
turning the color of a biled lobster, 'I s'posed ye were a standing out
to sea by this time.' 'No,' says I, 'and I've got my men out here on the
quay a landing that cloth o' yourn, and if you don't send just what I
bought and paid for down there to go back in the gig within fifteen
minutes, I'll take ye by the collar and drop ye into the dock.' I was
twice the size of him, mind ye, and master strong. 'Don't ye like it?'
says he, edging round; 'I'll change it for ye, then.' Ter'ble perlite he
was. 'Like it?' says I, 'it looks as if it were built of dog's hair and
divil's wool, kicked together by spiders; and it's coarser than Irish
frieze; three threads to an _armful_,' says I."
This was evidently one of the captain's favorite stories, for we heard
an approving grumble from the audience.
In the course of a walk inland we made a new acquaintance, Captain Lant,
whom we had noticed at church, and who sometimes joined the company on
the wharf. We had been walking through the woods, and coming out to his
fields we went on to the house for some water. There was no one at home
but the captain, who told us cheerfully that he should be pleased to
serve us, though his women-folks had gone off to a funeral, the other
side of the P'int. He brought out a pitcherful of milk, and after we had
drunk some, we all sat down together in the shade. The captain brought
an old flag-bottomed chair from the woodhouse, and sat down facing Kate
and me, with an air of certainty that he was going to hear something new
and make some desirable new acquaintances, and also that he could tell
something it would be worth our while to hear. He looked more and more
like a well-to-do old English sparrow, and chippered faster and faster.