Justice, Right, and Liberty by Reverend Doctor Cooper, Reverend Doctor
Eliot, Reverend Doctor Checkley, and nearly all the other ministers,
excepting Reverend Mr. Coner, rector of King's Chapel, and Reverend
Mather Byles of Christ Church, whose sympathies were with the
king.[32]
[Footnote 32: Reverend Andrew Eliot was pastor of the New North
Church, an edifice still standing at the corner of Hanover and Clark
streets, and used by the Roman Catholics. Reverend Samuel Checkley was
pastor of the New South Church, and Reverend Samuel Blair of the Old
South. These pastors were outspoken in denunciation of the offensive
measures of the king and his ministers.]
In every household fathers and mothers, sons and daughters and
grandchildren, gathered in the old home, and had a great deal to say,
while partaking of the roast turkey and plum-pudding, of the sermons
they had heard in the different meetinghouses. All the ministers
preached about the proposal of Parliament to levy a tax upon tea, and
that if it could not be defeated in any other way it was the patriotic
duty of the people to quit using the herb. They must deny themselves
the luxury, that they might maintain their freedom. Little did they
know that a blue-eyed girl had called upon Doctor Cooper and read to
him what she had written, an agreement to drink no more tea; how his
soul had been set on fire and he had gone with her to the houses of
other ministers, that they might look into her eyes and see the
flashing of a resolute spirit in behalf of justice, righteousness, and
liberty.
Although the snow was deep in the streets, the drifts did not deter
Berinthia from calling upon her friends. Many of the good ladies were
ready to sign an agreement to drink no more tea; others hesitated. She
was warmly welcomed by Mrs. Abigail Adams, who at once saw how great
would be the influence of the women upon their husbands.
"But what shall we drink instead of tea?" asked Dorothy Quincy.
"When summer comes, we will go out into the fields and gather
strawberry leaves, and call them Hyperion, or some other elegant name.
I think it quite as pretty a name as Old Hyson, and I am not sure that
they will not be more healthful," Berinthia replied.
Miss Dorothy laughed heartily. "Yes, and we can, upon a pinch, drink
cold water from the town pump and flavor it with peppermint," she
said, as she wrote her name.
After leaving Miss Quincy, Berinthia lifted the knocker of the
Newville mansion, not to ask Ruth to sign the agreement; she could not
do that, for Mr. Newville was a Tory, and the signers were daughters
of patriots.
"How good it is to see you once more. It is a very long time since I
have looked upon your face," Ruth exclaimed, embracing her.
"The snow has been so deep and I have had so much to do, I have not
found time to call till now, and I don't know as I should be here
to-day only I am spinning street-yarn for a particular purpose."
Ruth was at a loss to understand her.
"I am calling on my acquaintances, and I was not quite sure whether I
ought to skip you or not."
"Skip me! What have I done that you should think of dropping me from
your acquaintance?"
Berinthia saw a wondering and injured look in the loving eyes.
"Oh, you haven't done anything; it is what the king, Lord North, and
Parliament are doing. They intend to make us pay taxes against our
will, and we girls are signing an agreement not to drink any more tea,
and I am calling on my friends for that purpose."
The look of wonder and grief disappeared, and Ruth's face brightened
once more. She read the agreement and the list of names.
"I didn't call, dear Ruth, to ask you to sign it. I have no right to
do so. It is an agreement to be signed by the daughters of those who
are opposed to being taxed in this way. Your father, doubtless, may be
willing to pay the tax; my father is not. You may not think as we do,
but that shall not disturb our friendship. I shall love you just as I
have ever since we were children."
"How good you are! I appreciate your kindness. My father and mother
stand for the king, but I have my own opinion. Under the terms of the
agreement, I cannot sign it, but I am with you in spirit. I can see
the course taken by the king is not right or just, and it will fail.
Nothing can succeed in the end that is not right."
"Oh, Ruth, how you shame me. Here I have been fidgeting over the
cutting things some of the girls and their mothers have been saying.
One asked if I expected to bankrupt the East India Company. Another
wanted to know if I was going to wear trousers and vote in town
meeting."
"So mother's afternoon tea-party stands a chance of being the last,
for the present, at least. By the way, do you ever hear from your
cousin, Mr. Walden?"
"No, I have not heard a word since he left us. I should not be
surprised, however, if he were to drop in upon us any day, for I have
written him that the ship is to be launched soon. Father intends to
make it a grand occasion when the Berinthia Brandon glides into the
water. I shall have all my friends present, Ruth Newville chief among
them."
"Count upon me to do whatever I can to make it a happy day," said
Ruth.
VII.
LAUNCHING OF THE BERINTHIA BRANDON.
The pigs had been fattening through the winter, and it was quite time
to send them to market.
"You did so well with the cheese, you may see what you can do with the
shoats," said Mr. Walden to Robert. "It is good sleighing. You can
harness the colt and Jenny, and go with the pung. I want you to take
Rachel along. You can stay a couple of weeks and have a good visit."
There was a glow upon Rachel's face. It would be her first journey.
She would see new things, and make new acquaintances. During the
evenings she had been knitting a hood and mittens of the finest wool,
and would present them to Miss Newville.
It was a resplendent morning, with the eastern sky like molten gold in
the light of the rising sun, and the hoar-frost upon the twigs of the
leafless trees changing to glittering diamonds. The colt, sleek and
plump, was champing his bit and shaking his head in his impatience to
be off. Jenny was staid and sober, but when Robert said, "Now, lad and
lady," the colt pranced a few steps, then settled to a steady trot,
learning a lesson from Jenny.
An hour before lunch-time they whirled up to Captain Stark's tavern in
Derryfield, and before sunset came to a halt in the dooryard of a
relative in Andover. Before noon the next day Rachel was looking with
wondering eyes upon the gleaming spires of the meetinghouses and the
crooked streets of Boston.
"You have come just at the right time," said Berinthia, welcoming her
with a kiss, "for I am to be launched day after to-morrow."
Seeing by the look of wonder on Rachel's face that she was not
understood, Berinthia explained that the ship her father was building
was to bear her name, and that everything was ready for the launching.
"Oh, it will be so delightful to have you here!" she added. "We will
be on the deck, ever so many of us,--my friends, papa's and mamma's
and Tom's. Ruth Newville will be here; and Tom's classmate in Harvard
College, Roger Stanley, who lives out beyond Lexington, is coming.
He's a real nice young man, and I am sure you will like him. Tom's
girl will be here, Mary Shrimpton; she is out in the kitchen now. She
has been helping us make crumpets, crullers, gingerbread, and cake.
Father and mother intend to make it a grand affair, and have invited
half of the town,--doctors, lawyers, ministers, and their wives;
everybody that is anybody. Tom has invited his friends, and I mine,
because the ship is to bear my name."
Rachel said she was glad she had come to see and enjoy it all.
"We will have a jolly time while you are here; it is vacation at
college, and I shan't have to study," said Tom.
A young lady with a pleasant face, light blue eyes, and soft brown
hair, entered the room and was introduced as Miss Shrimpton.
"She has been helping us get ready, and has rolled out a bushel of
crullers," said Tom.
"Not quite so many," said Miss Shrimpton, smiling.
Robert thought her very attractive and pleasing.
"I think I will go home now; father and mother will be expecting me,
but I will be round to-morrow," said Miss Shrimpton.
Tom put on his hat and escorted her. When he returned, and he and
Robert were by themselves, he said that she was the best girl in
Boston.
"Her father," he went on, "is a red-hot Tory. He lives in a fine
house, owns thousands of acres of land out in the country, thinks King
George a saint, ordained of God to rule us; that Sam Adams and Doctor
Warren are tricksters fooling the people for their own benefit. But
Mary is just the nicest girl you ever saw. She has no mother, runs the
house for her father, keeps everything as neat as a pin, and by and
by, after I get through at Harvard and am in possession of my
sheepskin with A. B. on it, she will be Mrs. Tom Brandon."
Robert congratulated Tom upon his engagement.
The next morning saw Robert in the market disposing of what he had to
sell, while Berinthia with Rachel called upon Miss Newville.
"It was very kind of you to send such a basket of fruit to me, a
stranger; will you please accept a little gift in return? It is not
much, but it will let you know that I appreciate your goodness," said
Rachel, placing a bundle in Miss Newville's hands. When it was opened
Ruth beheld a close-fitting hood of the softest lamb's wool, made
beautiful with pink ribbons; there was also a pair of mittens.
"Oh, Miss Walden! How good you are! How soft and nice! And they are of
your own carding, spinning, and knitting? And you have done it for me,
whom you never had seen, and of whom you never heard except through
your brother. And is he well?" Miss Newville asked.
"Quite well. You will see him to-morrow at the launching."
"Isn't it delightful that they have come in the nick of time?" said
Berinthia.
"How fortunate! And you are to have such a nice party. I will wear the
hood and be the envy of everybody," said Miss Newville, putting it on,
praising its beauty, and calling in her mother to make Rachel's
acquaintance and admire the gift.
The launching of the ship was to be at flood-tide, eleven o'clock in
the forenoon. Though in midwinter, the air was mild, as if a warm
breath had been wafted landward from the Gulf Stream. There was a
fever of excitement and preparation in the Brandon home. Dinah in the
kitchen was taking pots of baked beans and loaves of brown bread
smoking hot from the oven, filling baskets with crumpets and crullers.
Mark Antony was taking them to the shipyard. Mrs. Brandon, Berinthia,
Rachel, and Mary Shrimpton were preparing the cakes and pies. Tom and
Robert on board the ship were arranging for the collation.
Never before had Rachel beheld anything so enchanting as the scene in
the shipyard,--the ship with its tall and tapering masts, its spars
and yard-arms; the multitudes of ropes like the threads of a spider's
web; flags, streamers, red, white, green, blue, yellow, with devices
of lions, unicorns, dragons, eagles, fluttering from bowsprit to
fore-royal mast, from taffrail to mizzen. Beneath the bowsprit was the
bust of Berinthia, the heart and soul of the man who carved it in
every feature, for to Abraham Duncan there was no face on earth so
beautiful as that of the shipmaster's daughter.
The guests were assembling on the deck: the commissioner of imposts,
Theodore Newville, Mrs. Newville, and their daughter, Ruth; his
majesty's receiver-general, Nathaniel Coffin, and his two sons, Isaac
and John; Reverend Doctor Samuel Cooper, minister of the church in
Brattle Street; Doctor Warren, physician to the family of the
shipmaster; Lieutenant-Colonel Dalrymple, commanding the king's
troops,--for Mr. Brandon, though deprecating the presence of the
troops in Boston, determined to be courteous to the representatives of
his majesty; Admiral Montague, who came in his gig rowed by six
sailors from his flagship, Romney; William Molineux[33] and John Rowe,
merchants; Richard Dana and Edmund Quincy, magistrates; John Adams, a
young lawyer; honored citizens and their wives; Master Lovell; and
Tom's classmate, Roger Stanley, who had walked from Lexington in the
early morning. Among the many ladies, most attractive was Ruth
Newville, wearing a close-fitting hood of soft lamb's wool, trimmed
with bright ribbon, all her friends admiring it.
[Footnote 33: William Molineux was a prominent merchant who gave his
sympathies to the cause of the people. He was one of the committee who
demanded the removal of the troops after the Massacre of March 5,
1770. He was one of the "Indians" composing the "Tea-party." He was
also one of the promoters of the spinning-school in Long Acre. He died
before the outbreak of hostilities.]
Berinthia introduced Rachel and Robert to Mrs. Adams. They found her a
very charming lady; she had brought her little boy, John Quincy, to
see the launching of the ship.
Picturesque the scene: gentlemen wearing white wigs, blue, crimson,
and scarlet cloaks, carrying gold-headed canes, taking pinches of
snuff from silver-mounted boxes; young gentlemen with handsome figures
and manly faces; ladies with tippets and muffs; girls in hoods,--all
congratulating Berinthia, admiring the beauty and tidiness of the
ship, and the lovely figure of herself. All praised Abraham Duncan,
who blushed like a schoolboy.
They could hear the clattering of mallets and axes beneath them, and
knew the carpenters were knocking away the props. The ways had been
slushed with grease. The tide was at the flood. Ruth Newville was to
break the bottle of wine. She had shaken hands with Robert Walden, and
given expression of her pleasure at meeting him once more. Her eyes
had followed him; even when not looking towards him she had seen him.
Once more she thanked Rachel for her gift. Her mates were asking her
where she had found a hood so beautiful and becoming. They stood upon
the quarter-deck, Berinthia the queen of the hour, Ruth, radiant and
lovely, by her side. They heard the bell striking the hour of eleven.
A great crowd had assembled to see the launching. Men, women, boys,
and girls were in the yard, flocking the street, gazing from doors
and windows of neighboring houses.
"Are you ready there?"
[Illustration: Launching the Ship.]
It was the builder of the ship, Mr. Brandon, shouting over the
taffrail to those beneath.
"Aye, aye, sir."
"Then knock it away."
They heard a blow from an axe. The stately ship quivered a moment,
then glided with increasing speed down the ways.
Mr. Brandon raised his hand, and a ball of bunting at the topmast
fluttered out into the Cross of St. George. Ruth lifted the bottle of
wine, broke it upon the rail, and poured the contents into the river.
A huzza rose from the quarter-deck. Handkerchiefs fluttered in the
air. The people tossed up their hats. From street, doorway, and window
came an answering shout.
Out from the shore drifted the Berinthia till the anchor dropped from
her bow, and she lay a thing of beauty, swinging with the ebbing tide.
In the cabin the guests were partaking of the bountiful and appetizing
repast.
"I remember, Miss Newville, that you once graciously served me at an
afternoon tea; shall I have the pleasure of waiting upon you?" Robert
asked.
"I shall be pleased to be served by you. The fresh air has sharpened
my appetite, and I will begin with a plate of beans, if you please."
He brought what she desired, served himself, and took a chair by her
side. They talked of the successful launching, of the beauty of the
ship, sitting as gracefully as a swan upon the water, of the almost
perfect likeness of the figurehead to Berinthia.
"Possibly it is so beautiful because the engraver's heart has gone
into it," she said with a smile.
Their eyes met. He thought hers very beautiful at the moment.
Roger Stanley found equal pleasure in serving Rachel, and in
listening to what she had to say about the launching, her visit to
Boston, and of things in Rumford.
Robert talked with Isaac Coffin, who said he expected to have a
commission in his majesty's navy. Admiral Montague was very kind, and
was using his influence to secure an appointment. His younger brother,
John, liked the army better. Robert came to the conclusion that they
were not Sons of Liberty, but were inclined to take sides with the
ministry, which was very natural, as their father was holding a very
important office under the crown.
There was a merry chattering of voices, a rattling of knives and
forks, and changing of plates. Mark Antony was master of ceremonies at
the table, giving directions to Caesar and Pompey.
Although society was divided politically, neighbors still were
friends, accepting and giving hospitality, and when meeting socially
avoiding all allusion to the proposed bill for taxing the Colonies.
All hoped that nothing would be done by Parliament to interrupt
friendly relations between the Colonies and the mother country. Doctor
Warren made himself agreeable to bluff Admiral Montague. William
Molineux cracked jokes with Colonel Dalrymple. Richard Dana and
Nathaniel Coffin were friendly neighbors. Mr. Dana could look out from
his front windows near Frog Lane,[34] and see the spacious grounds of
his neighbor Coffin's "Fields," as the boys who played ball called
it. There was no reason why they should be at odds socially, just
because Lord North and the king proposed to levy a tax of three pence
a pound on tea.
[Footnote 34: Frog Lane extended from Newbury, now Washington Street,
to the Common. It is now a part of Boylston Street. Mr. Dana's house
commanded an extensive view across the fields, gardens, and orchards
owned by Nathaniel Coffin, south of the present Summer Street.]
With story and jest the company enjoyed the banquet and then
were rowed to the shore, all shaking hands with Berinthia and
congratulating her upon the successful launching of the vessel
bearing her name.
"What can we do to round out the day for you, dear?"
It was Miss Newville addressing Berinthia.
"I don't know; what can we?" was the reply.
"How would you like a sleigh-ride?" Robert asked.
"Delightful!" exclaimed Miss Newville.
"Jenny and the colt are rested, and if you don't mind riding in a
pung, I shall be pleased to take a little spin out of town."
"Oh, it will be so charming! I would rather go in a pung than in a
sleigh; it is more romantic," Miss Newville said.
It was quickly arranged. Robert went to the Green Dragon, put new
straw in the pung, and was soon back with the team. They were eight in
number and quickly seated themselves. It was natural that Berinthia
and Abraham Duncan, who had put his heart into his work while carving
her features, should sit side by side, and that Tom Brandon and Mary
Shrimpton should desire to be tucked under the same bearskin. It was a
pleasure to Roger Stanley to ask Miss Walden to keep him company.
"They have decided, Mr. Walden, that we shall sit together," Miss
Newville said as she stepped into the pung.
"I shall regard it an honor to have your company," was the reply.
When all were ready, the horses set the sleigh-bells jingling. Farmers
plodding home from the market gave them the road, and smiled as they
listened to the merry laughter. They went at a brisk trot over the
Neck leading to Roxbury, and turned to the left, taking the Dorchester
road. At times the horses came to a walk, but at a chirrup from Robert
quickened their pace, the colt throwing snowballs into Miss Newville's
face.
"You must excuse him, Miss Newville; he is young, and has not learned
to be polite," Robert said, apologizing for the animal.
They gained the highlands of Dorchester, from whence they could
overlook the harbor and its islands, and see the lighthouse rising
from its rocky foundation, with the white surf breaking around it. A
ship which had left Charles River with the ebbing tide had reached
Nantasket Roads, and was spreading its sails for a voyage across the
sea.
"So the Berinthia will soon be sailing," said Miss Newville, "and we
shall all want to keep track of her; and whenever we read of her
coming and going we shall all recall this delightful day, made so
enjoyable for us this morning by Berinthia and so charming this
afternoon by your kindness."
She turned her face towards Robert. The afternoon sun was illumining
her countenance. He had seen in Mr. Henchman's bookstall a beautiful
picture of a Madonna. Mr. Knox told him it was a steel engraving from
a picture painted by the great artist Raphael, and Robert wondered if
the countenance was any more lovely than that which looked up to him
at the moment.
They were riding towards the Milton Hills. The woodman's axe had left
untouched the oaks, elms, maples, and birches; they were leafless in
midwinter, but the pines and hemlocks were green and beautiful upon
its rocky sides. The purple sky, changing into gold along the western
horizon, the white robe of winter upon hill and dale, the windows of
farmhouses reflecting the setting sun, made the view and landscape of
marvelous beauty. Descending the hill, they came to the winding
Neponset River, and rode along its banks beneath overhanging elms. The
bending limbs, though leafless, were beautiful in their outlines
against the sky. Turning westward, they reached the great road leading
from Boston to Providence.
"We might go to Dedham, but I think we had better turn back towards
Roxbury, let the horses rest a bit at the Greyhound Tavern, and have
supper,"[35] said Tom, who was well acquainted with the road.
[Footnote 35: The Greyhound was a much frequented tavern in Roxbury,
with the figure of a greyhound upon its sign. It was in this tavern
that the repeal of the Stamp Act was celebrated, 1767. Convivial
parties were courteously entertained by the accommodating landlord.]
The sun had gone down when they whirled up to the tavern, whose
swinging sign was ornamented with a rude picture of a greyhound. A
bright fire was blazing in the parlor. They laid aside their outer
garments and warmed themselves by its ruddy glow. The keen, fresh air
had sharpened their appetites for supper. Chloe and Samson, cook and
table-waiter, served them with beefsteak hot from the gridiron,
swimming in butter; potatoes roasted in the ashes; shortcake steaming
hot from the Dutch oven.
"Shall I brew Bohea, Hyson, or Hyperion[36] tea," the landlady asked,
beginning with Miss Newville and glancing at each in turn.
[Footnote 36: Strawberry and other domestic teas were called by the
high-sounding name, Hyperion.]
"I will take Hyperion," Miss Newville replied, with a tact and grace
that made her dearer than ever to Berinthia, and to them all, knowing
as they did that Bohea and Hyson were still served in her own home.
Supper over, they returned to the parlor, where the bright flame on
the hearth was setting their shadows to dancing on the walls. The feet
of Mary Shrimpton were keeping time to the ticking of the clock.
"Why can't we have a dance?" she asked.
"Why not?" all responded.
"I'll see if we can find Uncle Brutus," said Tom.
Uncle Brutus was the white-haired old negro who did chores about the
tavern.
"Yes, massa, I can play a jig, quickstep, minuet, and reel. De ladies
and genmen say I can play de fiddle right smart," Brutus responded,
rolling his eyes and showing his well-preserved white teeth.
"If de ladies and genmen will wait a little till old Brutus can make
himself 'spectable, he'll make de fiddle sing."
While the old negro was getting ready to entertain them with his
violin, they proposed conundrums and riddles and narrated stories.
There came at length a gentle rap on the door, and Brutus, with high
standing collar, wearing a cast-off coat given him by his master, his
round-bowed spectacles on the tip of his nose, entered the room,
bowing very low. He took his stand in one corner and tuned his violin.
The chairs and light-stand were removed to the hall.
"De ladies and genmen will please choose pardners for de minuet," said
Brutus.
The choosing had been already done; the partners were as they had
been. After the minuet came the reel and quickstep, danced with grace
and due decorum.