ONE MORNING, very early, I heard Mrs. Todd in the garden outside my
window. By the unusual loudness of her remarks to a passer-by, and the
notes of a familiar hymn which she sang as she worked among the herbs,
and which came as if directed purposely to the sleepy ears of my
consciousness, I knew that she wished I would wake up and come and speak
to her.
In a few minutes she responded to a morning voice from behind the
blinds. “I expect you're goin' up to your schoolhouse to pass all this
pleasant day; yes, I expect you're goin' to be dreadful busy,” she said
despairingly.
“Perhaps not,” said I. “Why, what's going to be the matter with you,
Mrs. Todd?” For I supposed that she was tempted by the fine weather to
take one of her favorite expeditions along the shore pastures to gather
herbs and simples, and would like to have me keep the house.
“No, I don't want to go nowhere by land,” she answered gayly,--“no, not
by land; but I don't know's we shall have a better day all the rest of
the summer to go out to Green Island an' see mother. I waked up early
thinkin' of her. The wind's light northeast,--'twill take us right
straight out, an' this time o' year it's liable to change round
southwest an' fetch us home pretty, 'long late in the afternoon. Yes,
it's goin' to be a good day.”
“Speak to the captain and the Bowden boy, if you see anybody going by
toward the landing,” said I. “We'll take the big boat.”
“Oh, my sakes! now you let me do things my way,” said Mrs. Todd
scornfully. “No, dear, we won't take no big bo't. I'll just git a handy
dory, an' Johnny Bowden an' me, we'll man her ourselves. I don't want no
abler bo't than a good dory, an' a nice light breeze ain't goin' to make
no sea; an' Johnny's my cousin's son,--mother'll like to have him come;
an' he'll be down to the herrin' weirs all the time we're there, anyway;
we don't want to carry no men folks havin' to be considered every minute
an' takin' up all our time. No, you let me do; we'll just slip out an'
see mother by ourselves. I guess what breakfast you'll want's about
ready now.”
I had become well acquainted with Mrs. Todd as landlady, herb-gatherer,
and rustic philosopher; we had been discreet fellow-passengers once
or twice when I had sailed up the coast to a larger town than Dunnet
Landing to do some shopping; but I was yet to become acquainted with
her as a mariner. An hour later we pushed off from the landing in the
desired dory. The tide was just on the turn, beginning to fall,
and several friends and acquaintances stood along the side of the
dilapidated wharf and cheered us by their words and evident interest.
Johnny Bowden and I were both rowing in haste to get out where we could
catch the breeze and put up the small sail which lay clumsily furled
along the gunwale. Mrs. Todd sat aft, a stern and unbending lawgiver.
“You better let her drift; we'll get there 'bout as quick; the tide'll
take her right out from under these old buildin's; there's plenty wind
outside.”
“Your bo't ain't trimmed proper, Mis' Todd!” exclaimed a voice from
shore. “You're lo'ded so the bo't'll drag; you can't git her before
the wind, ma'am. You set 'midships, Mis' Todd, an' let the boy hold the
sheet 'n' steer after he gits the sail up; you won't never git out to
Green Island that way. She's lo'ded bad, your bo't is,--she's heavy
behind's she is now!”
Mrs. Todd turned with some difficulty and regarded the anxious adviser,
my right oar flew out of water, and we seemed about to capsize. “That
you, Asa? Good-mornin',” she said politely. “I al'ays liked the starn
seat best. When'd you git back from up country?”
This allusion to Asa's origin was not lost upon the rest of the company.
We were some little distance from shore, but we could hear a chuckle
of laughter, and Asa, a person who was too ready with his criticism and
advice on every possible subject, turned and walked indignantly away.
When we caught the wind we were soon on our seaward course, and only
stopped to underrun a trawl, for the floats of which Mrs. Todd looked
earnestly, explaining that her mother might not be prepared for three
extra to dinner; it was her brother's trawl, and she meant to just run
her eye along for the right sort of a little haddock. I leaned over the
boat's side with great interest and excitement, while she skillfully
handled the long line of hooks, and made scornful remarks upon
worthless, bait-consuming creatures of the sea as she reviewed them and
left them on the trawl or shook them off into the waves. At last we came
to what she pronounced a proper haddock, and having taken him on board
and ended his life resolutely, we went our way.
As we sailed along I listened to an increasingly delightful commentary
upon the islands, some of them barren rocks, or at best giving sparse
pasturage for sheep in the early summer. On one of these an eager little
flock ran to the water's edge and bleated at us so affectingly that I
would willingly have stopped; but Mrs. Todd steered away from the rocks,
and scolded at the sheep's mean owner, an acquaintance of hers, who
grudged the little salt and still less care which the patient creatures
needed. The hot midsummer sun makes prisons of these small islands
that are a paradise in early June, with their cool springs and short
thick-growing grass. On a larger island, farther out to sea, my
entertaining companion showed me with glee the small houses of two
farmers who shared the island between them, and declared that for three
generations the people had not spoken to each other even in times of
sickness or death or birth. “When the news come that the war was over,
one of 'em knew it a week, and never stepped across his wall to tell the
other,” she said. “There, they enjoy it; they've got to have somethin'
to interest 'em in such a place; 'tis a good deal more tryin' to be
tied to folks you don't like than 'tis to be alone. Each of 'em tell
the neighbors their wrongs; plenty likes to hear and tell again; them
as fetch a bone'll carry one, an' so they keep the fight a-goin'. I must
say I like variety myself; some folks washes Monday an' irons Tuesday
the whole year round, even if the circus is goin' by!”
A long time before we landed at Green Island we could see the small
white house, standing high like a beacon, where Mrs. Todd was born and
where her mother lived, on a green slope above the water, with dark
spruce woods still higher. There were crops in the fields, which we
presently distinguished from one another. Mrs. Todd examined them while
we were still far at sea. “Mother's late potatoes looks backward; ain't
had rain enough so far,” she pronounced her opinion. “They look weedier
than what they call Front Street down to Cowper Centre. I expect brother
William is so occupied with his herrin' weirs an' servin' out bait to
the schooners that he don't think once a day of the land.”
“What's the flag for, up above the spruces there behind the house?” I
inquired, with eagerness.
“Oh, that's the sign for herrin',” she explained kindly, while Johnny
Bowden regarded me with contemptuous surprise. “When they get enough for
schooners they raise that flag; an' when 'tis a poor catch in the weir
pocket they just fly a little signal down by the shore, an' then the
small bo'ts comes and get enough an' over for their trawls. There, look!
there she is: mother sees us; she's wavin' somethin' out o' the fore
door! She'll be to the landin'-place quick's we are.”
I looked, and could see a tiny flutter in the doorway, but a quicker
signal had made its way from the heart on shore to the heart on the sea.
“How do you suppose she knows it is me?” said Mrs. Todd, with a tender
smile on her broad face. “There, you never get over bein' a child long's
you have a mother to go to. Look at the chimney, now; she's gone right
in an' brightened up the fire. Well, there, I'm glad mother's well;
you'll enjoy seein' her very much.”
Mrs. Todd leaned back into her proper position, and the boat trimmed
again. She took a firmer grasp of the sheet, and gave an impatient look
up at the gaff and the leech of the little sail, and twitched the sheet
as if she urged the wind like a horse. There came at once a fresh gust,
and we seemed to have doubled our speed. Soon we were near enough to see
a tiny figure with handkerchiefed head come down across the field and
stand waiting for us at the cove above a curve of pebble beach.
Presently the dory grated on the pebbles, and Johnny Bowden, who had
been kept in abeyance during the voyage, sprang out and used manful
exertions to haul us up with the next wave, so that Mrs. Todd could make
a dry landing.
“You don that very well,” she said, mounting to her feet, and
coming ashore somewhat stiffly, but with great dignity, refusing our
outstretched hands, and returning to possess herself of a bag which had
lain at her feet.
“Well, mother, here I be!” she announced with indifference; but they
stood and beamed in each other's faces.
“Lookin' pretty well for an old lady, ain't she?” said Mrs. Todd's
mother, turning away from her daughter to speak to me. She was a
delightful little person herself, with bright eyes and an affectionate
air of expectation like a child on a holiday. You felt as if Mrs.
Blackett were an old and dear friend before you let go her cordial hand.
We all started together up the hill.
“Now don't you haste too fast, mother,” said Mrs. Todd warningly; “'tis
a far reach o' risin' ground to the fore door, and you won't set an' get
your breath when you're once there, but go trotting about. Now don't
you go a mite faster than we proceed with this bag an' basket. Johnny,
there, 'll fetch up the haddock. I just made one stop to underrun
William's trawl till I come to jes' such a fish's I thought you'd want
to make one o' your nice chowders of. I've brought an onion with me that
was layin' about on the window-sill at home.”
“That's just what I was wantin',” said the hostess. “I give a sigh
when you spoke o' chowder, knowin' my onions was out. William forgot
to replenish us last time he was to the Landin'. Don't you haste so
yourself Almiry, up this risin' ground. I hear you commencin' to wheeze
a'ready.”
This mild revenge seemed to afford great pleasure to both giver
and receiver. They laughed a little, and looked at each other
affectionately, and then at me. Mrs. Todd considerately paused, and
faced about to regard the wide sea view. I was glad to stop, being more
out of breath than either of my companions, and I prolonged the halt
by asking the names of the neighboring islands. There was a fine breeze
blowing, which we felt more there on the high land than when we were
running before it in the dory.
“Why, this ain't that kitten I saw when I was out last, the one that I
said didn't appear likely?” exclaimed Mrs. Todd as we went our way.
“That's the one, Almiry,” said her mother. “She always had a likely look
to me, an' she's right after business. I never see such a mouser for
one of her age. If't wan't for William, I never should have housed that
other dronin' old thing so long; but he sets by her on account of her
havin' a bob tail. I don't deem it advisable to maintain cats just on
account of their havin' bob tails; they're like all other curiosities,
good for them that wants to see 'm twice. This kitten catches mice for
both, an' keeps me respectable as I ain't been for a year. She's a real
understandin' little help, this kitten is. I picked her from among five
Miss Augusta Pernell had over to Burnt Island,” said the old woman,
trudging along with the kitten close at her skirts. “Augusta, she says
to me, 'Why, Mis' Blackett, you've took and homeliest;' and, says I,
'I've got the smartest; I'm satisfied.'”
“I'd trust nobody sooner'n you to pick out a kitten, mother,” said the
daughter handsomely, and we went on in peace and harmony.
The house was just before us now, on a green level that looked as if
a huge hand had scooped it out of the long green field we had been
ascending. A little way above, the dark, spruce woods began to climb the
top of the hill and cover the seaward slopes of the island. There was
just room for the small farm and the forest; we looked down at the
fish-house and its rough sheds, and the weirs stretching far out into
the water. As we looked upward, the tops of the firs came sharp against
the blue sky. There was a great stretch of rough pasture-land round
the shoulder of the island to the eastward, and here were all the
thick-scattered gray rocks that kept their places, and the gray backs
of many sheep that forever wandered and fed on the thin sweet pasturage
that fringed the ledges and made soft hollows and strips of green turf
like growing velvet. I could see the rich green of bayberry bushes here
and there, where the rocks made room. The air was very sweet; one could
not help wishing to be a citizen of such a complete and tiny continent
and home of fisherfolk.
The house was broad and clean, with a roof that looked heavy on its low
walls. It was one of the houses that seem firm-rooted in the ground, as
if they were two-thirds below the surface, like icebergs. The front door
stood hospitably open in expectation of company, and an orderly
vine grew at each side; but our path led to the kitchen door at the
house-end, and there grew a mass of gay flowers and greenery, as if they
had been swept together by some diligent garden broom into a tangled
heap: there were portulacas all along under the lower step and
straggling off into the grass, and clustering mallows that crept as near
as they dared, like poor relations. I saw the bright eyes and brainless
little heads of two half-grown chickens who were snuggled down among the
mallows as if they had been chased away from the door more than once,
and expected to be again.
“It seems kind o' formal comin' in this way,” said Mrs. Todd
impulsively, as we passed the flowers and came to the front doorstep;
but she was mindful of the proprieties, and walked before us into the
best room on the left.
“Why, mother, if you haven't gone an' turned the carpet!” she exclaimed,
with something in her voice that spoke of awe and admiration. “When'd
you get to it? I s'pose Mis' Addicks come over an' helped you, from
White Island Landing?”
“No, she didn't,” answered the old woman, standing proudly erect, and
making the most of a great moment. “I done it all myself with William's
help. He had a spare day, an' took right holt with me; an' 'twas all
well beat on the grass, an' turned, an' put down again afore we went to
bed. I ripped an' sewed over two o' them long breadths. I ain't had such
a good night's sleep for two years.”
“There, what do you think o' havin' such a mother as that for eighty-six
year old?” said Mrs. Todd, standing before us like a large figure of
Victory.
As for the mother, she took on a sudden look of youth; you felt as if
she promised a great future, and was beginning, not ending, her summers
and their happy toils.
“My, my!” exclaimed Mrs. Todd. “I couldn't ha' done it myself, I've got
to own it.”
“I was much pleased to have it off my mind,” said Mrs. Blackett, humbly;
“the more so because along at the first of the next week I wasn't very
well. I suppose it may have been the change of weather.”
Mrs. Todd could not resist a significant glance at me, but, with
charming sympathy, she forbore to point the lesson or to connect this
illness with its apparent cause. She loomed larger than ever in the
little old-fashioned best room, with its few pieces of good furniture
and pictures of national interest. The green paper curtains were
stamped with conventional landscapes of a foreign order,--castles
on inaccessible crags, and lovely lakes with steep wooded shores;
under-foot the treasured carpet was covered thick with home-made rugs.
There were empty glass lamps and crystallized bouquets of grass and some
fine shells on the narrow mantelpiece.
“I was married in this room,” said Mrs. Todd unexpectedly; and I heard
her give a sigh after she had spoken, as if she could not help the touch
of regret that would forever come with all her thoughts of happiness.
“We stood right there between the windows,” she added, “and the minister
stood here. William wouldn't come in. He was always odd about seein'
folks, just's he is now. I run to meet 'em from a child, an' William,
he'd take an' run away.”
“I've been the gainer,” said the old mother cheerfully. “William has
been son an' daughter both since you was married off the island. He's
been 'most too satisfied to stop at home 'long o' his old mother, but I
always tell 'em I'm the gainer.”
We were all moving toward the kitchen as if by common instinct. The best
room was too suggestive of serious occasions, and the shades were
all pulled down to shut out the summer light and air. It was indeed a
tribute to Society to find a room set apart for her behests out there
on so apparently neighborless and remote an island. Afternoon visits
and evening festivals must be few in such a bleak situation at certain
seasons of the year, but Mrs. Blackett was of those who do not live to
themselves, and who have long since passed the line that divides mere
self-concern from a valued share in whatever Society can give and take.
There were those of her neighbors who never had taken the trouble to
furnish a best room, but Mrs. Blackett was one who knew the uses of a
parlor.
“Yes, do come right out into the old kitchen; I shan't make any stranger
of you,” she invited us pleasantly, after we had been properly received
in the room appointed to formality. “I expect Almiry, here, 'll be
driftin' out 'mongst the pasture-weeds quick's she can find a good
excuse. 'Tis hot now. You'd better content yourselves till you get nice
an' rested, an' 'long after dinner the sea-breeze 'll spring up, an'
then you can take your walks, an' go up an' see the prospect from the
big ledge. Almiry'll want to show off everything there is. Then I'll get
you a good cup o' tea before you start to go home. The days are plenty
long now.”
While we were talking in the best room the selected fish had been
mysteriously brought up from the shore, and lay all cleaned and ready in
an earthen crock on the table.
“I think William might have just stopped an' said a word,” remarked
Mrs. Todd, pouting with high affront as she caught sight of it. “He's
friendly enough when he comes ashore, an' was remarkable social the last
time, for him.”
“He ain't disposed to be very social with the ladies,” explained
William's mother, with a delightful glance at me, as if she counted upon
my friendship and tolerance. “He's very particular, and he's all in his
old fishin'-clothes to-day. He'll want me to tell him everything you
said and done, after you've gone. William has very deep affections.
He'll want to see you, Almiry. Yes, I guess he'll be in by an' by.”
“I'll search for him by 'n' by, if he don't,” proclaimed Mrs. Todd, with
an air of unalterable resolution. “I know all of his burrows down 'long
the shore. I'll catch him by hand 'fore he knows it. I've got some
business with William, anyway. I brought forty-two cents with me that
was due him for them last lobsters he brought in.”
“You can leave it with me,” suggested the little old mother, who was
already stepping about among her pots and pans in the pantry, and
preparing to make the chowder.
I became possessed of a sudden unwonted curiosity in regard to William,
and felt that half the pleasure of my visit would be lost if I could not
make his interesting acquaintance.