JESS HUTTON
Like one of the spruces that towered high above others on Rockhaven,
like one of the granite cliffs bidding defiance to storm and wave, so
did Jess Hutton tower above his fellow-men. Not from stature, though he
stood full six feet, or that he was impressive in other ways--far from
it. He was like a child among men in simplicity, in tenderness, in truth
and kindly nature--a man among children in strict adherence to his
conscience, to justice and right living. And all on Rockhaven knew it,
and all had the same unvarying confidence in his good sense and justice,
his truth and honor, conscience and kindness. What he predicted nearly
always came true; what he promised he always fulfilled, and no one ever
asked his aid in vain. Others quarrelled, made mistakes, repented of
errors, lost time in fruitless ventures; but Jess--never. He was like a
great ship moving majestically among boats, a lighthouse pointing to
safe harbor, a walking conscience like a compass, a giant among pigmies
in scope of mind, keenness of insight, and accurate reading of others'
moods and impulses.
And so he towered above all on Rockhaven.
Beyond that he was a philosopher who saw a silver lining behind all
clouds, laughed at all vanities, and made a jest of all follies. To him
men were grown-up children who needed to be amused and directed; and
women the custodians of life and morals, home, and happiness. They
deserved the mantle of charity and patience, love, and tenderness.
He was not religious. He had never felt a so-called change of heart, and
yet he was a walking example of the best that religion encourages, for
he governed himself, set the pace of right living, and illustrated the
golden rule.
He believed in that first and foremost, and in setting a good example as
far as lay in his power, but not in any professions.
"Ye mustn't feel I ain't on yer side," he said once to Parson Bush, who
had urged him to join the church, "for I am, only it's agin my natur ter
'low I've had a special dispensation o' the Lord's grace in my behalf.
I'm a weak vessel, like all on us, an' my impulses need caulkin'. I do
the best I kin, 'cordin' to my light, 'n' that's all any man kin. The
Lord won't go back on us fer not gittin' dipped, an' if there's a
heaven beyond, our only chance o' a seat is by startin' an annex right
here on airth. Sayin' you've joined the Lord's army's well enough, but
doin' what ye feel the Lord's tryin' to, is better.
"Ez Sally Harper used ter say in meetin', 'We're all on us poor
critters, an' if we jine, there's no tellin' when we'll backslide.'"
It was perhaps the consciousness of inherent human weakness that kept
Jess out of the fold.
"A man may do right 'n' keep on doin' right 'most all his life long," he
said, "an' some day up pops a temptation, when he's least prepared
for't, and over he goes like a sailboat 'thout ballast in a gale o'
wind. An' then what becomes o' all yer 'lowin' the Lord's opened yer
eyes 'n' gin ye extra grace? Ye only get laughed at by the scoffers 'n'
yer influence gone fer good. Human nature's brittle stuff, an' them as
does right 'thout any change o' heart, come purty near bein' leaders in
the percession toward the Throne."
His philosophy, broad as infinite mercy and humble as a child's
happiness, permeated all his thoughts and tinged all his speeches.
"No joy's quite so comfortin' as we cac'late," he would say, "an' no
sorrer quite so worryin'. We go through life anticipatin' happy
termorrers and glorious next days, and when we git to 'em, somehow
they've sorter faded away, and it's to be the next day and the next as
is ter be the bright uns. Then, we are all on us like boys, chasing jack
o' lanterns over a swamp medder, an' if we 'low they're clus to an' jest
ready to grab, the next we know we've stumbled inter a ditch.
"And then we borrer trouble, heaps on't, all through life. From the day
we git scared at thought o' speakin' pieces at school, till the doctor
shakes his head an' asks us if we've got our will made, we are dreadin'
suthin'. If 'taint sickness or bein' robbed, it's worryin' 'bout our
nabors havin' more'n we do. The feller courtin' worries for fear the gal
won't say 'yes,' an' when she does he is likely to see the time he
wishes she hadn't, an' worries 'cause he's got her. We worry ourselves
old 'n' wrinkled 'n' gray, an' then, more'n all this world, worry 'bout
the next. An' thar's whar the parson 'n' I allus split tacks. He says
the Lord made the brimstone lake fer sinners, 'n' I say the Lord made
conscience as a means o' torture, an' here or hereafter it's hot 'nuff."
And here it must be inserted that Jess was to a certain extent a thorn
in the parson's side, from the fact that his influence and following
were stronger than that worthy man's. It was what Jess believed and
said that was quoted rather than the parson's assertions; and although
Jess seldom failed to be one of his listeners, and contributed more than
any five or ten others toward his scant salary, there were times when he
was made to feel that if Jess occupied the pulpit the church would be
packed. And so it would, humiliating as that fact was to him.
And here also may be related an incident in Rockhaven history which
illustrates how slim a hold the parson and his preaching had upon those
islanders. As it happened that year, mackerel were late in reaching the
coast. The price was correspondingly high, and Rockhaven's band of
fishermen eager to make the first haul. Most of them attended church,
but now, while the suspense was on, when Sunday came, two or three
watchers were stationed on convenient cliffs with orders to report to
the church if a school was sighted.
This was kept up for three weeks, and then, one Sunday, just as the
first morning hymn in long metre had been sung, and the parson, with
closed eyes, had got well started in his prayer, down through the
village street bounded one of those sentinels, yelling, "Mack'rel,
mack'rel, millions on 'em!"
And in less than five minutes there wasn't a man, woman, or child left
in the church except Jess Hutton and the parson. And when that good man
had said "Amen," Jess arose and suggested they too follow the crowd.
"Ye might's well," said Jess, with a twinkle in his eye, "the model o'
all Christianity sot the example, 'cordin' to Scriptur', an' ye might do
good by follerin' it."
But the worthy leader of that flock who had thus deserted him failed to
see the humor of the situation and sadly shook his head. He remained in
the sanctuary and Jess joined the fishermen.
It was such a peculiar, sympathetic, and broad understanding of these
fisher-folk's carnal as well as spiritual needs that made Jess the
oracle and leader of the island.
"Thar wa'n't no need o' gettin' fussy over it," he said later to the
good dominie, with a laugh, "religion's good 'nuff when mack'rel's
fetchin only a dollar a kit; but when three's offered 'n' scace at that,
prayers hain't got their usual grip. And ye oughtn't ter 'spect it,
parson. The way to reach 'em's to be one with 'em and sorter feel thar
needs, and make em feel they're yer own. If ye'd gone with 'em that day
and helped 'em make a haul, an' then invited 'em to join ye in a prayer
o' thankfulness, thar want one but 'ud a-kneeled down at yer bidding
and said 'Amen.'"
And that was Jess Hutton and partially the secret of his supremacy on
Rockhaven.
Another point--he had always believed and practised the sterling rule of
"paying scot and lot as you go." While Jess forgot injuries, he always
remembered favors. If an unwashed, uncombed, and even unnamed child
brought him but a sea-shell, Jess never failed to reward the act. And so
on, upward, to each and all he returned all favors, paid all debts, and
rewarded all kindnesses. And how they trusted him! A fisher lad, saving
up for a new suit of clothes or a boat of his own, would, before
starting on a trip, leave his money with Jess for safe keeping. The
owner of a smack or schooner, ready for another cruise, would ask Jess
to take charge of the quintals and kits of fish just landed, sell them
to best advantage, and hold the proceeds till he returned, or longer.
Not only was Jess selling agent for most of them, but the safe in his
store was a bank of deposit for them also. What he did not keep to
supply their needs, they told him to get without bargaining, sure it
would be what they wanted, and at right, or lowest price.
And this trust was mutual.
"If I ain't here, help yourselves," while not a sign over his door, was
understood by all to be the rule; and every one in the island, from a
child wanting a stick of candy to the skipper needing a dozen suits of
oilers, followed it.
Jess had habits, and one was to devote all the time his dearly loved
niece, Mona Hutton, claimed to her amusement; and when she asked that he
accompany her flower or shell hunting of a summer afternoon, the store
could run itself for all that he cared.
It may be surmised that children exposed to the temptation of candy,
oranges, and nuts in his store, would pilfer, and some did; but that did
not annoy him.
"Hookin' things allus carries its own whip," he would say, "an' if they
wanter try it, let 'em. It's bound to be found out, one way or 'nother,
and when I've shamed 'em once or twice, they'll larn it's cheaper to ask
for 'em."
Children were seldom refused in his store, for he was like a boy baiting
squirrels with nuts in his desire to lure children there.
They were his chief solace and companions by day, for he kept bachelor's
hall over his store, and to have a crowd of them around was the company
he best enjoyed.
And what a godsend and wellspring of delight Jess and his store were to
all Rockhaven's progeny. In summer they came in barefooted bunches, even
to the toddlers who could scarce lisp their own names. They played hide
and seek behind his barrels and beneath his counter; they hid in empty
boxes and under piles of old sails in his back room. They littered his
piazza with crabs, starfish, long strips of kelpie and shells, they had
gathered among the rocks and on the beach, and left the few poor toys
and rag babies they possessed there. They ran riot over him and his
store; and as a climax to the happy after-school hour, Jess would
produce his old fiddle, and if there is any music that will reach a
child's heart, it is that.
And while Jess played they leaped, danced, crowed, and shouted as
insanely happy children will.
To him it was also supreme delight.
To them he was a perpetual Santa Claus, a wonder among men, a father
bountiful, whose welcome never failed, whose smile was always cordial,
and whose love seemed limitless. And they would obey a shake of his head
even. And when the frolic had lasted long enough and he said, "Run home
now," off they scampered. It is small wonder Jess Hutton was chief man
of Rockhaven.
But Jess had a vein of satire as well as philosophy.
"It's human natur," he would say, "for all of us to think our own
children's brighter'n our neighbor's, an' our own joys and sorrers o'
more account, and 'specially our aches and pains, 'n' them we never get
tired o' tellin' 'bout.
"There was the Widder Bunker, fer instance; she had a heap o' trouble
and the only comfort she got was tellin' on't. She had rumatiz 'n' biles
'n' janders 'n' liver complaint, ever since she was left a widder, an'
all she could talk 'bout was what ailed her an' how long it had lasted
an' what the symptoms were an' what she was doin' fer 'em. She'd run on
fer hours 'bout all her ailin's till folks 'ud go off 'n' leave her. She
got so daft on this subject, finally, everybody'd run fer safety and
hide when they saw her comin'. She used ter talk in meetin' onct in a
while, 'n' arter a spell her aches got sorter mixed up with her
religion, an' as nobody else 'ud listen to her 'bout 'em, the first we
knowed, she 'gan tellin' the Lord how her asmer bothered her and how her
rumatiz acted. She enjied it so much, an' the Lord seemed to listen so
well, she kept at it over an hour, until the parson had to ask her to
quit.
"It was sorter rough on the widder, an' as I told the parson arterward,
it really wa'n't any wuss fer the Lord to hev to listen to her bodily
aches and pains than the spiritual ones the rest allus told him 'bout;
'sides it gin a spice o' variety ter the meetin'.
"But he said her tellin' the Lord how she'd hump herself to get breath,
and how the rumatiz had started in her big toe and skipped from one jint
to 'tother, 'ud set the boys in the back seats to titterin' 'n' break up
the meetin'.
"I allus felt sorry for the Widder Bunker, fer she had considerable hair
on her upper lip an' a hair mole on her chin, 'sides bein' poorer'n a
church mouse, an' sich unfortunate critters hez to take back seats at
the Lord's table."