"Marry, I saw your niece do more favours
To the count's serving-man, than ever she bestowed
Upon me; I saw it i' the orchard."
_Twelfth Night._
On the Sunday in question, Deacon Pratt went to meeting as usual, the
building in which divine service was held that day, standing less than two
miles from his residence; but, instead of remaining for the afternoon's
preaching, as was his wont, he got into his one-horse chaise, the vehicle
then in universal use among the middle classes, though now so seldom seen,
and skirred away homeward as fast as an active, well-fed and powerful
switch-tailed mare could draw him; the animal being accompanied in her
rapid progress by a colt of some three months' existence. The residence
of the deacon was unusually inviting for a man of his narrow habits. It
stood on the edge of a fine apple-orchard, having a door-yard of nearly
two acres in its front. This door-yard, which had been twice mown that
summer, was prettily embellished with flowers, and was shaded by four rows
of noble cherry-trees. The house itself was of wood, as is almost
uniformly the case in Suffolk, where little stone is to be found, and
where brick constructions are apt to be thought damp: but, it was a
respectable edifice, with five windows in front, and of two stories. The
siding was of unpainted cedar-shingles; and, although the house had been
erected long previously to the revolution, the siding had been renewed but
once, about ten years before the opening of our tale, and the whole
building was in a perfect state of repair. The thrift of the deacon
rendered him careful, and he was thoroughly convinced of the truth of the
familiar adage which tells us that "a stitch in time, saves nine." All
around the house and farm was in perfect order, proving the application of
the saying. As for the view, it was sufficiently pleasant, the house
having its front towards the east, while its end windows looked, the one
set in the direction of the Sound, and the other in that of the arm of the
sea, which belongs properly to Peconic Bay, we believe. All this water,
some of which was visible over points and among islands, together with a
smiling and fertile, though narrow stretch of foreground, could not fail
of making an agreeable landscape.
It was little, however, that Deacon Pratt thought of views, or beauty of
any sort, as the mare reached the open gate of his own abode. Mary was
standing in the stoop, or porch of the house, and appeared to be anxiously
awaiting her uncle's return. The latter gave the reins to a black, one who
was no longer a slave, but who was a descendant of some of the ancient
slaves of the Pratts, and in that character consented still to dawdle
about the place, working for half price. On alighting, the uncle
approached the niece with somewhat of interest in his mariner.
"Well, Mary," said the former, "how does he get on, now?"
"Oh! my dear sir he cannot possibly live, I think, and I do most
earnestly entreat that you will let me send across to the Harbour for Dr.
Sage."
By the Harbour was meant Sag's, and the physician named was one of merited
celebrity in old Suffolk. So healthy was the country in general, and so
simple were the habits of the people, that neither lawyer nor physician
was to be found in every hamlet, as is the case to-day. Both were to be
had at Riverhead, as well as at Sag Harbour; but, if a man called out
"Squire," or "Doctor," in the highways of Suffolk, sixteen men did not
turn round to reply, as is said to be the case in other regions; one half
answering to the one appellation, and the second half to the other. The
deacon had two objections to yielding to his niece's earnest request; the
expense being one, though it was not, in this instance, the greatest;
there was another reason that he kept to himself, but which will appear as
our narrative proceeds.
A few weeks previously to the Sunday in question, a sea-going vessel,
inward bound, had brought up in Gardiner's Bay, which is a usual anchorage
for all sorts of craft. A worn-out and battered seaman had been put ashore
on Oyster Pond, by a boat from this vessel, which sailed to the westward
soon after, proceeding most probably to New York. The stranger was not
only well advanced in life, but he was obviously wasting away with
disease.
The account given of himself by this seaman was sufficiently explicit. He
was born on Martha's Vineyard, but, as is customary with the boys of that
island, he had left home in his twelfth year, and had now been absent from
the place of his birth a little more than half a century. Conscious of the
decay which beset him, and fully convinced that his days were few and
numbered, the seaman, who called himself Tom Daggett, had felt a desire to
close his eyes in the place where they had first been opened to the light
of day. He had persuaded the commander of the craft mentioned, to bring
him from the West Indies, and to put him ashore as related, the Vineyard
being only a hundred miles or so to the eastward of Oyster Pond Point. He
trusted to luck to give him the necessary opportunity of overcoming these
last hundred miles.
Daggett was poor, as he admitted, as well as friendless and unknown. He
had with him, nevertheless, a substantial sea-chest, one of those that the
sailors of that day uniformly used in merchant-vessels, a man-of-war
compelling them to carry their clothes in bags, for the convenience of
compact stowage. The chest of Daggett, however, was a regular inmate of
the forecastle, and, from its appearance, had made almost as many voyages
as its owner. The last, indeed, was heard to say that he had succeeded in
saving it from no less than three shipwrecks. It was a reasonably heavy
chest, though its contents, when opened, did not seem to be of any very
great value.
A few hours after landing, this man had made a bargain with a middle-aged
widow, in very humble circumstances, and who dwelt quite near to the
residence of Deacon Pratt, to receive him as a temporary inmate; or, until
he could get a "chance across to the Vineyard." At first, Daggett kept
about, and was much in the open air. While able to walk, he met the
deacon, and singular, nay, unaccountable as it seemed to the niece, the
uncle soon contracted a species of friendship for, not to say intimacy
with, this stranger. In the first place, the deacon was a little
particular in not having intimates among the necessitous, and the Widow
White soon let it be known that her guest had not even a "red cent." He
had chattels, however, that were of some estimation among seamen; and
Roswell Gardiner, or "Gar'ner," as he was called, the young seaman _par
excellence_ of the Point, one who had been not only a whaling, but who had
also been a sealing, and who at that moment was on board the deacon's
schooner, in the capacity of master, had been applied to for advice and
assistance. By the agency of Mr. Gar'ner, as the young mate was then
termed, sundry palms, sets of sail-needles, a fid or two, and various
other similar articles, that obviously could no longer be of any use to
Daggett, were sent across to the 'Harbour,' and disposed of there, to
advantage, among the many seamen of the port. By these means the stranger
was, for a few weeks, enabled to pay his way, the board he got being both
poor and cheap.
A much better result attended this intercourse with Gardiner, than that of
raising the worn-out seaman's immediate ways and means. Between Mary Pratt
and Roswell Gardiner there existed an intimacy of long standing for their
years, as well as of some peculiar features, to which there will be
occasion to advert hereafter. Mary was the very soul of charity in all its
significations, and this Gardiner knew. When, therefore, Daggett became
really necessitous, in the way of comforts that even money could not
command beneath the roof of the Widow White, the young man let the fact be
known to the deacon's niece, who immediately provided sundry delicacies
that were acceptable to the palate of even disease. As for her uncle,
nothing was at first said to him on the subject. Although his intimacy
with Daggett went on increasing, and they were daily more and more
together, in long and secret conference, not a suggestion was ever made by
the deacon in the way of contributing to his new friend's comforts. To own
the truth, to give was the last idea that ever occurred to this man's
thoughts.
Mary Pratt was observant, and of a mind so constituted, that its
observations usually led her to safe and accurate deductions. Great was
the surprise of all on the Point when it became known that Deacon Pratt
had purchased and put into the water, the new sea-going craft that was
building on speculation, at Southold. Not only had he done this, but he
had actually bought some half-worn copper, and had it placed on the
schooner's bottom, as high as the bends, ere he had her launched. While
the whole neighbourhood was "exercised" with conjectures on the motive
which could induce the deacon to become a ship-owner in his age, Mary did
not fail to impute it to some secret but powerful influence, that the sick
stranger had obtained over him. He now spent nearly half his time in
private communications with Daggett; and, on more than one occasion, when
the niece had taken some light article of food over for the use of the
last, she found him and her uncle examining one or two dirty and well-worn
charts of the ocean. As she entered, the conversation invariably was
changed; nor was Mrs. White ever permitted to be present at one of these
secret conferences.
Not only was the schooner purchased, and coppered, and launched, and
preparations made to fit her for sea, but "Young Gar'ner" was appointed to
command her! As respects Roswell Gardiner, or "Gar'ner," as it would be
almost thought a breach of decorum, in Suffolk, not to call him, there was
no mystery. Six-and-twenty years before the opening of our legend, he had
been born on Oyster Pond itself, and of one of its best families. Indeed,
he was known to be a descendant of Lyon Gardiner, that engineer who had
been sent to the settlement of the lords Saye and Seal, and Brook, since
called Saybrook, near two centuries before, to lay out a town and a fort.
This Lyon Gardiner had purchased of the Indians the island in that
neighbourhood, which still bears his name. This establishment on the
island was made in 1639; and now, at an interval of two hundred and nine
years, it is in possession of its ninth owner, all having been of the name
and blood of its original patentee. This is great antiquity for America,
which, while it has produced many families of greater wealth, and renown,
and importance, than that of the Gardiners, has seldom produced any of
more permanent local respectability. This is a feature in society that we
so much love to see, and which is so much endangered by the uncertain and
migratory habits of the people, that we pause a moment to record this
instance of stability, so pleasing and so commendable, in an age and
country of changes.
The descendants of any family of two centuries standing, will, as a matter
of course, be numerous. There are exceptions, certainly; but such is the
rule. Thus is it with Lyon Gardiner, and his progeny, who are now to be
numbered in scores, including persons in all classes of life, though it
carries with it a stamp of caste to be known in Suffolk as having come
direct from the loins of old Lyon Gardiner. Roswell, of that name, if not
of that Ilk, the island then being the sole property of David Johnson
Gardiner, the predecessor and brother of its present proprietor, was
allowed to have this claim, though it would exceed our genealogical
knowledge to point out the precise line by which this descent was claimed.
Young Roswell was of respectable blood on both sides, without being very
brilliantly connected, or rich. On the contrary, early left an orphan,
fatherless and motherless, as was the case with Mary Pratt, he had been
taken from a country academy when only fifteen, and sent to sea, that he
might make his own way in the world. Hitherto, his success had not been of
a very flattering character. He had risen, notwithstanding, to be the
chief mate of a whaler, and bore an excellent reputation among the people
of Suffolk. Had it only been a year or two later, when speculation took
hold of the whaling business in a larger way, he would not have had the
least difficulty in obtaining a ship. As it was, however, great was his
delight when Deacon Pratt engaged him as master of the new schooner, which
had been already named the "Sea Lion"--or "Sea Lyon," as Roswell sometimes
affected to spell the word, in honour of his old progenitor, the engineer.
Mary Pratt had noted all these proceedings, partly with pain, partly with
pleasure, but always with great interest. It pained her to find her uncle,
in the decline of life, engaging in a business about which he knew
nothing. It pained her, still more, to see one whom she loved from habit,
if not from moral sympathies, wasting the few hours that remained for
preparing for the last great change, in attempts to increase possessions
that were already much more than sufficient for his wants. This
consideration, in particular, deeply grieved Mary Pratt; for she was
profoundly pious, with a conscience that was so sensitive as materially to
interfere with her happiness, as will presently be shown, while her uncle
was merely a deacon. It is one thing to be a deacon, and another to be
devoted to the love of God, and to that love of our species which we are
told is the consequence of a love of the Deity. The two are not
incompatible; neither are they identical. This Mary had been made to see,
in spite of all her wishes to be blind as respects the particular subject
from whom she had learned the unpleasant lesson. The pleasure felt by our
heroine, for such we now announce Mary Pratt to be, was derived from the
preferment bestowed on Roswell Gardiner. She had many a palpitation of the
heart when she heard of his good conduct as a seaman, as she always did
whenever she heard his professional career alluded to at all. On this
point, Roswell was without spot, as all Suffolk knew and confessed. On
Oyster Pond, he was regarded as a species of sea lion himself, so numerous
and so exciting were the incidents that were related of his prowess among
the whales But, there was a dark cloud before all these glories, in the
eyes of Mary Pratt, which for two years had disinclined her to listen to
the young man's tale of love, which had induced her to decline accepting a
hand that had now been offered to her, with a seaman's ardour, a seaman's
frankness, and a seaman's sincerity, some twenty times at least, which had
induced her to struggle severely with her own heart, which she had long
found to be a powerful ally of her suitor. That cloud came from a species
of infidelity that is getting to be so widely spread in America as no
longer to work in secret, but which lifts its head boldly among us,
claiming openly to belong to one of the numerous sects of the land. Mary
had reason to think that Roswell Gardiner denied the divinity of Christ,
while he professed to honour and defer to him as a man far elevated above
all other men, and as one whose blood had purchased the redemption of his
race!
We will take this occasion to say that our legend is not polemical in any
sense, and that we have no intention to enter into discussions or
arguments connected with this subject, beyond those that we may conceive
to be necessary to illustrate the picture which it is our real aim to
draw--that of a confiding, affectionate, nay, devoted woman's heart, in
conflict with a deep sense of religious duty.
Still, Mary rejoiced that Roswell Gardiner was to command the Sea Lion.
Whither this little vessel, a schooner of about one hundred and forty tons
measurement, was to sail, she had not the slightest notion; but, go where
it might, her thoughts and prayers were certain to accompany it. These are
woman's means of exerting influence, and who shall presume to say that
they are without results, and useless? On the contrary, we believe them to
be most efficacious; and thrice happy is the man who, as he treads the
mazes and wiles of the world, goes accompanied by the petitions of such
gentle and pure-minded being's at home, as seldom think of approaching the
throne of Grace without also thinking of him and of his necessities. The
Romanists say, and say it rightly too, could one only believe in their
efficacy, that the prayers they offer up in behalf of departed friends,
are of the most endearing nature; but it would be difficult to prove that
petitions for the souls of the dead can demonstrate greater interest, or
bind the parties more closely together in the unity of love, than those
that are constantly offered up in behalf of the living.
The interest that Mary Pratt felt in Roswell's success needs little
explanation. In all things he was most agreeable to her, but in the one
just mentioned. Their ages, their social positions, their habits, their
orphan condition, even their prejudices--and who that dwells aside from
the world is without them, when most of those who encounter its collisions
still cherish them so strongly?--all united to render them of interest to
each other. Nor was Deacon Pratt at all opposed to the connection; on the
contrary, he appeared rather to favour it.
The objections came solely from Mary, whose heart was nearly ready to
break each time that she was required to urge them. As for the uncle, it
is not easy to say what could induce him to acquiesce in, to favour
indeed, the addresses to his niece and nearest relative, of one who was
known not to possess five hundred dollars in the world. As his opinions on
this subject were well known to all on Oyster Pond, they had excited a
good deal of speculation; "exercising" the whole neighbourhood, as was
very apt to be the case whenever anything occurred in the least out of the
ordinary track. The several modes of reasoning were something like
these:--
Some were of opinion that the deacon foresaw a successful career to, and
eventual prosperity in the habits and enterprise of, the young mate, and
that he was willing to commit to his keeping, not only his niece, but the
three farms, his "money at use," and certain shares he was known to own in
a whaler and no less than three coasters, as well as an interest in a
store at Southold; that is to say, to commit them all to the keeping of
"young Gar'ner" when he was himself dead; for no one believed he would
part with more than Mary, in his own lifetime.
Others fancied he was desirous of getting the orphan off his hands, in the
easiest possible way, that he might make a bequest of his whole estate to
the Theological Institution that had been coquetting with him now, for
several years, through its recognised agents, and to which he had already
made the liberal donation of one hundred dollars. It was well ascertained
that the agents of that Institution openly talked of getting Deacon Pratt
to sit for his portrait, in order that it might be suspended among those
of others of its benefactors.
A third set reasoned differently from both the foregoing. The "Gar'ners"
were a better family than the Pratts, and the deacon being so "well to
do," it was believed by these persons that he was disposed to unite money
with name, and thus give to his family consideration, from a source that
was somewhat novel in its history. This class of reasoners was quite
small, however, and mainly consisted of those who had rarely been off of
Oyster Pond, and who passed their days with "Gar'ner's Island" directly
before their eyes. A few of the gossips of this class pretended to say
that their own young sailor stood next in succession after the immediate
family actually in possession should run out, of which there was then some
prospect; and that the deacon, sly fellow, knew all about it! For this
surmise, to prevent useless expectations in the reader, it may be well to
say at once, there was no foundation whatever, Roswell's connection with
the owner of the island being much too remote to give him any chance of
succeeding to that estate, or to anything else that belonged to him.
There was a fourth and last set, among those who speculated on the
deacon's favour towards "young Gar'ner," and these were they who fancied
that the old man had opened his heart towards the young couple, and was
disposed to render a deserving youth and a beloved niece happy. This was
the smallest class of all; and, what is a little remarkable, it contained
only the most reckless and least virtuous of all those who dwelt on Oyster
Pond. The parson of the parish, or the Pastor as he was usually termed,
belonged to the second category, that good man being firmly impressed that
most, if not all of Deacon Pratt's worldly effects would eventually go to
help propagate the gospel.
Such was the state of things when the deacon returned from meeting, as
related in the opening chapter. At his niece's suggestion of sending to
the Harbour for Dr. Sage, he had demurred, not only on account of the
expense, but for a still more cogent reason. To tell the truth, he was
exceedingly distrustful of any one's being admitted to a communication
with Daggett, who had revealed to him matters that he deemed to be of
great importance, but who still retained the key to his most material
mystery. Nevertheless, decency, to say nothing of the influence of what
"folks would say," the Archimedean lever of all society of puritanical
origin, exhorted him to consent to his niece's proposal.
"It is such a round-about road to get to the Harbour, Mary," the uncle
slowly objected, after a pause.
"Boats often go there, and return in a few hours."
"Yes, yes--_boats_; but I'm not certain it is lawful to work boats of a
Sabbath, child."
"I believe, sir, it was deemed lawful to do good on the Lord's day."
"Yes, if a body was certain it _would_ do any good. To be sure, Sage is a
capital doctor--as good as any going in these parts--but, half the time,
money paid for doctor's stuff is thrown away."
"Still, I think it our duty to try to serve a fellow-creature that is in
distress; and Daggett, I fear, will not go through the week, if indeed he
go through the night."
"I should be sorry to have him die!" exclaimed the deacon, looking really
distressed at this intelligence. "Right sorry should I be, to have him
die--just yet."
The last two words were uttered unconsciously, and in a way to cause the
niece to regret that they had been uttered at all. But they had come,
notwithstanding, and the deacon saw that he had been too frank. The fault
could not now be remedied, and he was fain to allow his words to produce
their own effect.
"Die he will, I fear, uncle," returned Mary, after a short pause; "and
sorry should I be to have it so without our feeling the consolation of
knowing we had done all in our power to save him, or to serve him."
"It is so far to the Harbour, that no good might come of a messenger; and
the money paid _him_ would be thrown away, too."
"I dare say Roswell Gardner would be glad to go to help a fellow-creature
who is suffering. _He_ would not think of demanding any pay."
"Yes, that is true. I will say this for Gar'ner, that he is as reasonable
a young man, when he does an odd job, as any one I know. I like to employ
him."
Mary understood this very well. It amounted to neither more nor less, than
the deacon's perfect consciousness that the youth had, again and again,
given him his time and his services gratuitously; and that too, more than
once, under circumstances when it would have been quite proper that he
should look for a remuneration. A slight colour stole over the face of the
niece, as memory recalled to her mind these different occasions. Was that
sensitive blush owing to her perceiving the besetting weakness of one who
stood in the light of a parent to her, and towards whom she endeavoured to
feel the affection of a child? We shall not gainsay this, so far as a
portion of the feeling which produced that blush was concerned; but,
certain it is, that the thought that Roswell had exerted himself to oblige
_her_ uncle, obtruded itself somewhat vividly among her other
recollections.
"Well, sir," the niece resumed, after another brief pause, "we can send
for Roswell, if you think it best, and ask him to do the poor man this act
of kindness."
"Your messengers after doctors are always in such a hurry! I dare say,
Gar'ner would think it necessary to hire a horse to cross Shelter Island,
and then perhaps a boat to get across to the Harbour. If no boat was to be
found, it might be another horse to gallop away round the head of the Bay.
Why, five dollars would scarce meet the cost of such a race!"
"If five dollars were needed, Roswell would pay them out of his own
pocket, rather than ask another to assist him in doing an act of charity.
But, no horse will be necessary; the whale-boat is at the wharf, and is
ready for use, at any moment."
"True, I had forgotten the whale-boat. If that is home, the doctor might
be brought across at a reasonable rate; especially if Gar'ner will
volunteer. I dare say Daggett's effects will pay the bill for attendance,
since they have answered, as yet, to meet the Widow White's charges. As I
live, here comes Gar'ner, at this moment, and just as we want him."
"I knew of no other to ask to cross the bays, sir, and sent for Roswell
before you returned. Had you not got back, as you did, I should have taken
on myself the duty of sending for the doctor."
"In which case, girl, you would have made yourself liable. I have too many
demands on my means, to be scattering dollars broadcast. But, here is
Gar'ner, and I dare say all will be made right."
Gardiner now joined the uncle and niece, who had held this conversation in
the porch, having hastened up from the schooner the instant he received
Mary's summons. He was rewarded by a kind look and a friendly shake of the
hand, each of which was slightly more cordial than those that prudent and
thoughtful young woman was accustomed to bestow on him. He saw that Mary
was a little earnest in her manner, and looked curious, as well as
interested, to learn why he had been summoned at all. Sunday was kept so
rigidly at the deacon's, that the young man did not dare visit the house
until after the sun had set; the New England practice of commencing the
Sabbath of a Saturday evening, and bringing it to a close at the
succeeding sunset, prevailing among most of the people of Suffolk, the
Episcopalians, forming nearly all the exceptions to the usage. Sunday
evening, consequently, was in great request for visits, it being the
favourite time for the young people to meet, as they were not only certain
to be unemployed, but to be in their best. Roswell Gardiner was in the
practice of visiting Mary Pratt on Sunday evenings; but he would almost as
soon think of desecrating a church, as think of entering the deacon's
abode, on the Sabbath, until after sunset, or "sun_down_," to use the
familiar Americanism that is commonly applied to this hour of the day.
Here he was, now, however, wondering, and anxious to learn why he had been
sent for.
"Roswell," said Mary, earnestly, slightly colouring again as she spoke,
"we have a great favour to ask. You know the poor old sailor who has been,
staying at the Widow While's, this month or more--he is now very low; so
low, we think he ought to have better advice than can be found on Oyster
Pond, and we wish to get Dr. Sage over from the Harbour. How to do it has
been the question, when I thought of you. If you could take the whale-boat
and go across, the poor man might have the benefit of the doctor's advice
in the course of a few hours."
"Yes," put in the uncle, "and I shall charge nothing for the use of the
boat; so that, if _you_ volunteer, Gar'ner, it will leave so much towards
settling up the man's accounts, when settling day comes."
Roswell Gardiner understood both uncle and niece perfectly. The intense
selfishness of the first was no more a secret to him than was the entire
disinterestedness of the last. He gazed a moment, in fervent admiration,
at Mary; then he turned to the deacon, and professed his readiness to
"volunteer." Knowing the man so well, he took care distinctly to express
the word, so as to put the mind of this votary of Mammon at ease.
"Gar'ner will _volunteer_, then," rejoined the uncle, "and I shall charge
nothing for the use of the boat. This is 'doing as we would be done by,'
and is all right, considering that Daggett is sick and among strangers.
The wind is fair, or nearly fair, to go and to come back, and you'll make
a short trip of it. Yes, it will cost nothing, and may do the poor man
good."
"Now, go at once, Roswell," said Mary, in an entreating manner; "and show
the same skill in managing the boat that you did the day you won the race
against the Harbour oarsmen."
"I will do all a man can, to oblige you, Mary, as well as to serve the
sick. If Dr. Sage should not be at home, am I to look for another
physician, Mr. Pratt?"
"Sage _must_ be at home--we can employ no other. Your old,
long-established physicians understand how to consider practice, and don't
make mistakes--by the way, Gar'ner, you needn't mention _my_ name in the
business, at all. Just say that a sick man, at the Widow White's, needs
his services, and that you had _volunteered_ to take him across. _That_
will bring him--I know the man."
Again Gardiner understood what the deacon meant. He was just as desirous
of not paying the physician as of not paying the messenger. Mary
understood him, too and, with a face still more sad than anxiety had
previously made it, she walked into the house, leaving her uncle and lover
in the porch. After a few more injunctions from the former, in the way of
prudent precaution, the latter departed, hurrying down to the water-side,
in order to take to the boat.