On that second day of June it befell that I was stirring early, and I
was out at dawn, for I had much to do; but I did not do it then, as I
had meant. When I was come out into the fresh breath of morning, and was
walking over the dewy grass to my shed, of a sudden my soul was drenched
with the sense of a great truth, even as my feet and legs were drenched
with dew. And the truth was this: All work is useless. It is but a waste
of time that might be better spent in watching the sun come up through
the mists of morning to rule over his kingdom; or in seeing him sink
behind the bearded hills in the golden haze of evening. At either time
the old earth is at peace, and the waters stilled or just waking, but
the dawn is the better. I would contemplate the majesty of the sunrise
and consider upon it. It restoreth my soul.
So my cares slipped from off my shoulders as a garment, and I turned my
steps to the steep path, and came to the shore, and over the sand and
pebbles to my clam beds at the point; and I hurried, for I would not
miss the rising of the sun. But I did miss it, and saw the sun shining
through a thick haze, with his lower edge just risen out of the sea. The
tide was high, and the waters whispered gently at my feet, and stretched
away in all manner of opalescent colors until, toward the south, they
were lost in a tender pearl-gray that seemed to cover everything.
One needs to be alone at such a time; alone or with one other. And Eve
had not divined my intention any more than I had, but she had been
sleeping sweetly, with one white arm curved above her head upon the
pillow, and she had smiled in her sleep, and I had withdrawn cautiously
and quietly. She supposed that I would be working at my preparations.
Working! And I laughed silently to myself. But I wished that I had known
what I should do. Perhaps she would not have minded being waked.
So I stood there, scarcely moving, looking out into that tender
pearl-gray, until the sun was half an hour high or more. Some of the
magic was gone, and I knew that it was to be hot; hot and moist and
sticky. And a fisherman crawled out into the bay, and then another,
their sails hanging in wrinkles. They were not afraid of submarines. Who
could be afraid of submarines in that quiet, opalescent water, that
pearl-gray haze? Submarines there!
I laughed and turned away. Work no longer seemed so useless a waste of
time. I must be at mine. There are many things to be seen to besides the
digging of clams. I marched back along the shore, and up the path, and
through the wet grass. The grass must be cut. Usually I keep it cut, but
there is a dearth this year of men who work by the day, and I can get no
man to help me. What is done I shall have to do myself.
So I came to the hole scooped in the ground just without the shadow of
my pine, and I cleared it out, the accumulation of the winter, down to
the lining of great stones. And I brought out the plain wooden benches,
and the great pine planks laid on wooden horses, to serve as tables, and
I set them in their places, and I rubbed the tops of the tables till
they were all shining white. And a big wagon came with a load of
seaweed--rockweed--all fresh and wet and dripping, its little brown
bladders soft and swollen, and the load of wet weed was dumped in a
slippery pile. There were chickens also to come, and lobsters, and fish,
whatever kinds the fishermen brought in, but no bluefish caught in the
bay these many years; and many loaves of brown bread. But all those
things would come later, and I had no concern with them save to bake
them--but not the brown bread. So I looked about, and seeing all things
done that were to do at that time, I went in to breakfast.
I was restless, and dragged Eve out, and we went prowling along the
shore, although it yet lacked an hour of the time set for the assembling
of our company; but there was Old Goodwin leaning against a tree above
the clam beds, gazing out over the water.
I followed his gaze, and I saw his ocean steamer lying there, at anchor.
She had come in since sunrise, for the water then had been empty of
steam yachts. And men were swarming over her rail and were getting
settled upon stagings--planks--that hung there.
Old Goodwin turned to us. "Good-morning," he said, smiling his quiet
smile of peace.
"Good-morning," I returned. "It seems like afternoon to me. It is a long
time since sunrise. Your boat wasn't there then. What are they doing to
her? Painting a gold band around her?"
He smiled once more. "No gold," he said. "She needed paint. I thought
that gray would be a good color. It wears well, and doesn't show
bruises."
"He has given her to the navy," Eve whispered. Her eyes were shining.
"I thought I might as well," said Old Goodwin as if apologizing. "I have
given up New York--for a time anyway--and shall not need her. That is
the matter I spoke of. I shall want your advice, Adam."
"Now?" I asked. "It is rather sudden."