this lady appeared, walking rapidly down to our beach. She was dressed
in a light morning costume, with some sort of a gauzy fabric thrown over
her head, and if I had not hated her so thoroughly I should have
considered her a very picturesque and attractive figure.
"I am glad I am in time," she called out. "I don't want you to go away
with too bad an opinion of me, and I came to say that what you have
confided to me is just as safe with me as it would be with anybody else.
Do you think you can believe that if you try?"
It was impossible for me to make any answer to this woman, but I took
off my hat and bowed. The sail filled, and we glided away.
Walkirk was not in good spirits. It was plain enough that he liked the
Tangent Island and wanted to stay; and he had good reason, for he had
found pleasant company, and this could not always be said to be the case
when sailing in a small boat or camping out with me. My intention was to
sail to a town on the mainland, some thirty miles distant, there leave
our boat, and take a train for Arden. This, I considered, was
sacrificing to appearances as much time as I could allow.
But the breeze was light and fitful, and we made but little progress,
and about the middle of the forenoon a fog came slowly creeping up from
the sea. It grew thicker and heavier, until in an hour or two we were
completely shut out from all view of the world about us. There was now
no wind. Our sail hung damp and flabby; moisture, silence, and obscurity
were upon us.
The rest of the day we sat doleful, waiting for the fog to lift and the
wind to rise. My fear was that we might drift out to sea or upon some
awkward shoals; for, though everything else was still, the tide would
move us. What Walkirk feared, if anything, I do not know, but he kept up
a good heart, and rigged a lantern some little distance aloft, which, he
said, might possibly keep vessels from running into us. He also
performed, at intervals, upon a cornet which he had brought with him.
This was a very wise thing to do, but, for some reason or other, such
music, in a fog, depressed my spirits; however, as it seemed quite
suitable to the condition of my affairs I did not interfere, and the
notes of Bonnie Doon or My Old Kentucky Home continued to be soaked into
the fog.
Night came on; the fog still enveloped us, and the situation became
darker. We had our supper, and I turned in, with the understanding that
at midnight I was to take the watch, and let Walkirk sleep. It was of no
use to make ourselves any more uncomfortable than need be.
It was between two and three o'clock when I was called to go on watch;
and after I had been sitting in the stern smoking and thinking for an
hour or more, I noticed that the light on the mast had gone out. It was,
however, growing lighter, and, fancying that the fog was thinner, I
trusted to the coming of the day and a breeze, and made no attempt to
take down and refill the lantern.
Not long after this my attention was attracted by something which
appeared like the nucleus of a dark cloud forming in the air, a short
distance above the water, and not far away on our port quarter. Rapidly
the cloud grew bigger and blacker. It moved toward us, and in a few
moments, before I had time to collect my thoughts and arouse Walkirk, it
was almost upon us, and then I saw that it was the stern of a vessel,
looming high above my head.
I gave a wild shout; Walkirk dashed out of his bunk; there was a call
from above; then I felt a shock, and our boat keeled over on her
starboard side. In a moment, however, she receded from the other vessel,
and righted herself. I do not know that Walkirk had ever read in a book
what he ought to do in such an emergency, but he seized a boat hook and
pushed our boat away from the larger vessel.
"That's right!" cried a voice from above. "I'll heave ye a line. Keep
her off till we have drifted past ye, and then I'll haul ye in."
Slowly the larger vessel, which was not very large, but which drifted
faster than our little boat, floated past us, until we were in tow at
her bow. We could now see the form of a man leaning over the rail of the
vessel, and he called out to us to know if we were damaged, and if we
wanted to come aboard. I was about to reply that we were all right, and
would remain where we were, when Walkirk uttered an exclamation.
"We are taking in water by the bucketful," said he; "our side has been
stove in."
"Impossible!" I exclaimed. "We were not struck with enough force for
that."
But examination proved that he was correct. One or more of our planks
had been broken just below the water line and our boat was filling,
though not rapidly.
"Stoved in, eh?" shouted the voice from above. "Well, ye needn't sink.
I'll haul yer bowline taut, and I'll heave ye another to make fast to
yer stern. That'll keep yer little craft afloat until ye can unlade her;
and the quicker ye get yer traps up here the better, if ye don't want
'em soaked."
Acting upon these suggestions, Walkirk and I went vigorously to work,
and passed up our belongings as rapidly as possible to the man above,
who, by leaning over the rails, could easily reach them. When everything
movable had been taken out of our boat, the man let down a ladder and I
climbed on board the larger vessel, after which he came down to our
boat, detached the boom, gaff, and sail, and unshipped the mast; all of
which we afterwards hoisted on board his vessel by means of a block and
tackle.
"Now, then," said our new companion, "ye're safe, and yer boat can
capsize if it's a mind to, but it can't sink; and when it's better
daylight, and Abner's on deck, perhaps we'll rig out a couple of spars
and haul her up at the stern; but there's time enough to settle all
that. And now I'd like to know how ye came to be driftin' around here
with no light out."
I explained, but added I had not seen any light on his vessel.
"Well," said the man, looking upward, "that light's out, and ten to one
it was out when we run inter ye. I'spect Abner didn't calkerlate for
fillin' it for day work and night work too."
The speaker was a grizzled man, middle-aged, and rather too plump for a
sailor. He had a genial, good-natured countenance, and so far as I could
see was the only occupant of the vessel.
His craft was truly a peculiar one. It was sloop-rigged, and on the
after part of the deck, occupying about one third of the length of the
vessel, was a structure resembling a small one-storied house, which rose
high above the rest of the deck, like the poop of an old-fashioned
man-of-war. In the gable end of this house, which faced upon the deck,
there was a window and a door. The boom of the mast was rigged high
enough to allow it to sweep over the roof.
"I reckon you gents think this is a queer kind of a craft," said the
man, with a grin of pleasure at our evident curiosity; "and if ye think
that, ye are about right, for there isn't jist such another one as far
as I know. This is a floating grocery, and I am captain of the sloop or
keeper of the store, jist as it happens. In that house there is a good
stock of flour, sugar, feed, trimmings, notions, and small dry goods,
with some tinware and pottery, and a lot of other things which you
commonly find in a country grocery store. I have got the trade of about
half the families in this bay; all of them on the islands, and a good
many of them on the mainland, especially sech as has piers of their own.
I have regular days for touching at all the different p'ints; and it is
a mighty nice thing, I can tell ye, to have yer grocery store come round
to ye instead of yer having to go to it, especially if ye live on an
island or out in the country."
Walkirk and I were very much interested in this floating grocery store,
which was an entirely novel thing to us, and we asked a good many
questions about it.
"There's only me and Abner aboard," said the grocer-skipper, "but that's
enough, for we do a good deal more anchorin' than sailin'. Abner, he's
head clerk, and don't pretend to be no sailor at all; but he lays a hold
of anythin' I tell him to, and that's all I ask of him in the sailorin'
line. But he is first class behind the counter, I can tell ye, and in
keepin' the books I couldn't find nobody like Abner,--not in this State.
Now it may strike ye, gents, that I am not much of a sailor neither, to
be driftin' about here at night in this fog instead of anchorin' and
tootin' a foghorn; but ye see, I did anchor in the fore part of the
night, and after Abner had gone to his bunk--we don't keep regular
watches, but kinder divide the night between us, when we are out on the
bay, which isn't common, for we like to tie up at night, and do our
sailin' in the daytime--it struck me that as the tide was runnin' out we
might as well let it take us to Simpson's Bar, which, if ye don't know
this bay, is a big shallow place, where there is always water enough for
us, bein' a good deal on the flat-bottomed order, but where almost any
steamin' craft at low tide would stick in the mud before they could run
into us. So thinks I, If we want to get on in the direction of Widder
Kinley's (whose is the last house I serve down the bay), and to feel
safe besides, we had better up anchor, and I upped it. But I had ought
to remembered about that light; it wasn't the square thing to be
driftin' about without the light, no more fur me than fur ye. I've
sounded a good many times, but we don't seem to have reached the bar
yet. It must be pretty near time for Abner to turn out," and he looked
at his watch.
"Your assistant must be a sound sleeper," I remarked.
"Yes, he is," replied the man. "He needs lots of sleep, and I make it a
p'int to give it to him. If it isn't positively necessary, I don't wake
him up until the regular time. Of course, if it had been our boat that
had been stoved in, and she had been like to sink, I'd have called
Abner; but as it was yer boat, and none of us was in no danger, I didn't
call him. Here he is, though, on time."
At this, a tall, lean man, not quite so much grizzled as the other, made
his appearance on deck. He gazed from one to the other of us, and upon
our various belongings, which were strewn upon the deck, with
undisguised amazement.
His companion laughed aloud. "I don't wonder, Abner," he cried, "that ye
open yer eyes; 't ain't often two gentlemen come on board in the night,
bag and baggage; but these two stoved in their boat agin our rudder, and
here they are, with their craft triced up to keep her from sinkin'."
Abner made no answer, but walked to the side of the vessel, looked over,
and satisfied himself that this last statement was correct.
"Capt'n Jabe," said he, turning to the other, "we can't sail much, can
we, with that thing hangin' there?"
"Well, now, Abner," replied the captain, "we are not sailin' at the
present time,--we are driftin'; for it is my idee to drop anchor as soon
as we get to Simpson's Bar, and this tide is bound to carry us over it
if we wait long enough, so we must keep soundin', and not slip over
without knowin' it."
"It strikes me," said Abner, "that we should save a lot of trouble if we
should put the anchor out and let it hang; then, when we come to the
bar, she'll ketch and fetch us up without our havin' it on our minds."
"You see, gents," said Captain Jabe to us, "Abner don't pretend to be no
sailor, but he's got his idees about navigation, for all that."
Abner took no notice of this remark. "Capt'n," said he, "does these
gents want to turn in?"
"Not till they have had some breakfast," replied Captain Jabe, and we
assented.
"All right," said Abner, "I'll tackle the grub," and, opening the door
of the grocery store, he went inside. In a few minutes he reappeared.
"Capt'n," said he, in a voice which he intended to be an aside, "are you
goin' to count 'em as mealers, or as if they was visitin' the family?"
Captain Jabe laughed. "Well, Abner," said he, "I guess we will count
them as mealers, though I don't intend to make no charge."
Abner nodded, and again entered the little house.
"What are mealers?" I asked of the captain.
"In this part of the country," he answered, "there's a good many city
folks comes for the summer, and they take houses; but they don't want
the trouble of cookin', so they make a contract with some one livin'
near to give them their meals regular, and this sort of folks goes by
the general name of mealers. What Abner wanted to know fur was about
openin' the cans. You see, most of our victuals is in cans, and if Abner
knowed you was regular payin' mealers he would open fresh ones; but if
you was visitin' the family, he'd make you help eat up what was left in
the cans, just as we do ourselves."
It was not long before the thrifty Abner had given us a substantial
breakfast; and then Walkirk and I were glad to take possession of a
spare couple of bunks, for we were tired and sleepy, and the monotonous
fog still hung around us.
It was about noon when I waked and went on deck, where I found Walkirk,
Captain Jabe, and Abner engaged in consultation. There was a breeze
blowing, and every particle of fog had disappeared.
"We've been considerin'," said the captain, addressing me, "what's the
best thing to do with yer boat; there's no use tryin' to tinker her up,
for she has got a bad hole in her, and it is our fault, too. One of the
iron bands on our rudder got broke and sprung out a good while ago, and
it must have been the sharp end of that which punched into yer boat when
we drifted down on her. We ain't got no tackle suitable to h'ist her on
board, and as to towin' her--a big boat like that, full of water,--'t
ain't possible. We've lost a lot of time already, and now there's a good
wind and we are bound to make the best of it; so me and Abner thinks the
best thing ye can do is to sink yer boat right here on the bar where we
are now anchored, having struck it all right, as ye see, and mark the
spot with an oil-cag. Anybody that knows this bay can come and git her
if she is on Simpson's Bar, buoyed with an oil-cag."
I was sorry that we should not be able to repair our boat and continue
our trip in her, but I saw that this would be impossible, and I asked
Captain Jabe if he could take us to Brimley.
"I can do that," he answered, "but not straight. I have got fust to sail
over to Widder Kinley's, which is on that p'int which ye can just see
over there on the edge of the water, and where I was due yesterday
afternoon. Then I've got to touch at three or four other places along
the east shore; and then, if this wind holds, I guess I can git across
the bay to my own house, where I have got to lay up all day to-morrow.
The next day is Saturday, and then I am bound to be in Brimley to take
in stock. There ye two gents can take the cars for wherever ye want to
go; and if ye choose to give me the job of raisin' yer boat and sendin'
it to its owners, I'll do it for ye as soon as I can fix things
suitable, and will charge ye just half price for the job, considerin'
that nuther of us had our lights out, and we ought to share damages."
I agreed to the proposed disposition of our boat, and asked Captain Jabe
if I could not hire him to take us direct to Brimley.
"No, sir!" he answered. "I never pass by my customers, especially Widder
Kinley, for she is the farthest off of any of them."
"And she must be lookin' out sharp for us, too," said Abner, "for she
bakes Thursdays, and she ought to sot her bread last night."
"And I am a great deal afeard," continued Captain Jabe, "that her yeast
cakes won't be any too fresh when she gits 'em; and the quicker that
boat's down to the bottom and our anchor up off the bottom, the better
it will be for the Widder Kinley's batch of bread."
In the course of half an hour an empty oil-keg was moored over the spot
where our boat lay upon the sandy bar, and we were sailing as fast as
such an unwieldy vessel, with her mainsail permanently reefed above the
roof of her grocery store, could be expected to sail. Our tacks were
long and numerous, and although Walkirk and I lent a hand whenever there
was occasion for it, and although there was a fair wind, the distant
point rose but slowly upon our horizon.
"I hope," I remarked to Captain Jabe, "that the Widow Kinley will buy a
good bill of you, after you have taken all this trouble to get to her."
"Dunno," said he; "she don't generally take more than she has ordered
the week before, and all she has ordered this time is two yeast cakes."
"Do you mean," exclaimed Walkirk, "that you are taking all this time and
trouble to deliver two yeast cakes, worth, I suppose, four cents?"
"That's the price on 'em," said the captain; "but if the Widder Kinley
didn't git 'em she wouldn't do no bakin' this week, and that would upset
her housekeepin' keel up."
Late in the afternoon we delivered the yeast cakes to the Widow Kinley,
whom we found in a state of nervous agitation, having begun to fear that
another night would pass without her bread being "sot." Then we coasted
along the shore, tying up at various little piers, where the small
farmers' and fishermen's families came on board to make purchases.
Now Abner was in his glory. Wearing a long apron made of blue-and-white
bed-ticking, he stood behind the counter in the little house on deck,
and appeared to be much more at ease weighing sugar, coffee, and flour
than in assisting to weigh anchor. I seated myself in the corner of this
floating grocery, crowded, shelves, floor, and counter, with such goods
as might be expected to be found at an ordinary country store.
It seemed to me that nearly every one who lived near the points at which
we touched came on board the floating grocery, but most of them came to
talk, and not to buy. Many of those who did make purchases brought farm
produce or fish, with which to "trade." It was an interesting spectacle,
and amused me. During our slow progress from one place to another,
Captain Jabe told me of an old woman who once offered him an egg which
she wished to take out in groceries, half in tea and half in snuff.
"We don't often do business down as fine as that," said the captain;
"but then, on the other hand, we don't calkerlate to supply hotels, and
couldn't if we wanted to."
Walkirk appeared uneasy at the detentions which still awaited us.
"Couldn't you take us straight on to Brimley," he asked of the captain,
"and sail back to your home in the morning?"
"No, sir!" answered Captain Jabe, with much decision. "My old woman
'spects me to-night,--in p'int of fact, she 'spected me a good deal
before night,--and I am not goin' to have her thinkin' I am run down in
a fog, and am now engaged in feedin' the sharks. There is to be a
quiltin' party at our house to-morrer arternoon, and there's a lot to be
done to get ready for it. Abner and me will have to set up pretty late
this night, I can tell yer!"
"Is there no way of getting to the railroad," I asked, "but by your
boat?"
"No," said Captain Jabe, "I can't see that there is. Pretty nigh all the
folks that will be at the bee to-morrow will come in boats. None of them
live nigh to a railroad station, and if they did, and could take ye back
with 'em, they wouldn't leave early enough for ye to ketch the last
train: so the best thing ye can do is to stick by me, and I'll guarantee
to git ye over to Brimley in time for the mornin' train on Saturday."
XXIX.
FANTASY?
We reached Captain Jabe's house a little after nightfall, and received a
hearty welcome and a good supper from his wife. Walkirk and I slept on
board the floating grocery, as also did Abner; that is to say, if he
slept at all, for he and the captain were busy at the house when we
retired. The quilting party, we were informed, was expected to be a
grand affair, provided, of course, there were no signs of rain; for
country people are not expected to venture out for pleasure in rainy
weather.
Captain Jabe's house, as we saw it the next morning, was a good-sized
waterside farmhouse, wide-spreading and low-roofed. The place had a sort
of amphibious appearance, as if depending for its maintenance equally
upon the land and the water. The house stood a little distance back from
the narrow beach, and in its front yard a net was hung to dry and to be
mended; a small boat, in course of repair, lay upon some rude stocks,
while bits of chain, an old anchor, several broken oars, and other
nautical accessories were scattered here and there.
At the back of the house, however, there was nothing about the barn, the
cow-yard, the chicken-yard, and the haystacks to indicate that Captain
Jabe was anything more than a thrifty small-farmer. But, farmer and
sailor as he was, Captain Jabe was none the less a grocer, and I think
to this avocation he gave his chief attention.
He took me into a small room by the side of his kitchen, and showed me
what he called his "sinkin' fund stock."
"Here, ye see," said he, "is canned fruit and vegetables, smoked and
salted meat and fish, cheeses, biscuits, and a lot of other things that
will keep. None of these is this year's goods. Some of them have been
left over from last year, some from the year before that, and some is
still older. Whenever I git a little short, I put a lot of these goods
on board and sell 'em with the discount off,--twenty per cent for last
year's stock, forty per cent off for the year before that, and so on
back. So, ye see, if I have got anythin' on hand that is five years old,
I am bound to give it away for nothin', if I stick to my principles. At
fust me and my old woman tried eatin' what was left over; but discount
isn't no good to her, and she wants the best victuals that is goin'. Did
ye ever think, sir, what this world would be without canned victuals?"
I assured him that I never had, but would try to do so if possible.
The day proved to be a very fine one, and early in the afternoon the
people invited to the quilting party began to arrive, and by two o'clock
the affair was in full swing. The quilting frame was set up in a large
chamber at the right of the parlor, the "comfortable" to be quilted was
stretched upon it, and at the four sides sat as many matrons and elderly
maidens as could crowd together, each with needle in hand. Long cords
rubbed with chalk were snapped upon the surface of the quilt to mark out
the lines to be stitched; wax, thread, and scissors were passed from one
to another; and every woman began to sew and to talk as fast as she
could.
I stood in the doorway and watched this scene with considerable
interest, for I had never before seen anything of the kind. The quilting
ladies, to every one of whom I had been presented, cordially invited me
to enter and take a seat with them; some of the more facetious offering
to vacate their places in my favor, and, more than that, to show me how
to thread and use a needle. I found from their remarks that it was
rather an unusual thing for a man to take an interest in this part of
the proceedings at a quilting party.
After a time I went into the parlor, which room was then occupied by the
young men and young women. It was ever so much pleasanter out-of-doors
than in this somewhat gloomy and decidedly stuffy parlor; but as these
people were guests at a quilting party, they knew it was proper to enjoy
themselves within the house to which they had been invited.
The young folks were not nearly so lively and animated as their elders
in the next room, but they had just begun to play a game which could be
played in the house, and in which every one could participate, and as
the afternoon wore on they would doubtless become warmed up. Walkirk was
making the best of it, and had entered the game; but I declined all
invitations to do so.
Before long there was some laughing and a good deal of romping, and I
fancied that the girls, some of whom were not at all bad looking, would
have been pleased if I had joined in the sport. But this did not suit
me; I still was, as I declared myself, a Lover in Check, and the society
of young women was not attractive to me.
I went outside, where a group of elderly men were discussing the tax
rates; and after remaining a few minutes with them, I came to the
conclusion that the pleasantest thing I could do would be to take a
stroll over the country.