CHAPTER XVIII.
THE MEETING.
LITTLE dreaming of the happiness in store for him, Charlie, havinggathered in his harvest and husked his corn, now occupied himself inpreparing to put a hedge around his mother’s grave.
A _hedge_. How significant that word to him, reared amid the vales ofLincolnshire! It recalled all the associations of his childhood, andof the sunny spring mornings, when, sitting beneath the shelter ofthe hedge-rows, he watched the ducks sport in the pools below, whilebeside him the hens were scratching and burrowing in the warm earthbeneath the bank for worms and grubs, and he, a happy, careless boy,was pounding a willow stick on his knee with the handle of his knife,to make the bark slip, for a whistle; listening to the birds in thehedge above him, and watching the mimic waves produced by the wind asit swept over the osiers.
His intention was to surround the little promontory (around whose sidesmurmur the clear waters of the brook and the majestic elm that shadowsit, whose pendent branches, with their extremities, approached within afew feet of the grave-stone) with hedge.
Mr. Welch, several years before, had imported plants from England, andalso ivy. It was from him he expected to obtain his plants—“quicks”Charlie called them—for he was no novice in hedging. The ivy hepurposed to plant at the roots of the great elm.
This occupation had revived all the associations of his boyhood, andfond recollections of other days, often bringing tears to his eyes.
“A beautiful land is England,” said he, as he wiped the sweat from hisbrow and rested upon his spade; “and those sweet spots in the fens Ishall never forget; but this is sweeter, for it is my own. What I dohere, I do for myself, my wife, and little one.”
That evening, as he sat with the babe in his lap, while his wife wasclearing off the supper table, he said to her, “Mary, it don’t seemto look, or to be, just right that I should have a grave-stone for mymother, and none for my father, brother, and sister.”
“But they are not buried here. You wouldn’t wish to put stones wherethere are no bodies.”
“But I might have _something_. I’ve seen in the churchyards at homemonuments with the names of people on them who were not buried underthem, but had died at sea, or been killed in battle, as father was. Imight do that.”
“Why don’t you?”
“I think I will; and the very next time the schooner goes to Boston,when I send for my quicks and ivy, I’ll inquire of Mr. Welch about it.”
Here the conversation was interrupted by the entrance of John Rhines,with a letter in his hand.
“Just give me that baby, and read this.”
“If ever I was glad of anything in my life, I am of this,” saidCharlie, when he had read the letter; “not on our account altogether,but Captain Brown’s, he was just starting in life, and there were somany looking at him; and how handsomely he speaks of Walter and littleNed!”
“Ain’t it great?”
“Yes; she’s paid for herself with the freight she carried out.”
“I know it; and the back freight is all clear gain. There’s no loss,except the main boom and a boat.”
“I’ll build another boat. I’ve got the stuff in the ship-yard, allseasoned. The boom won’t be much; he can buy the stick, and DanforthEaton can make it. What did your father say? He was a long time makingup his mind whether it would do to trust him with a vessel or not, andI know he’s been very anxious, though he said nothing.”
“_Say!_ I only wish you could have seen him when I brought in theletter. Mother was just going to tie his cue; he glanced over it,jumped up, and cut round the house like a boy of sixteen; made me putthe saddle on the mare, and in spite of all mother could do, went overto tell Uncle Isaac, with his hair all flying in the wind. Won’t theyhave a good time, talking it over?”
“Yes; and I know just what they’ll say.”
“What?”
“They’ll say he’s turned out just as they expected, when it was allyou, father, and I could do to get them started to build the vessel forhim.”
“Don’t be too confident, Charlie; the old folks know a thing or two;remember the cow trade.”
Charlie blushed, and in order to turn the conversation, remarked, as helooked again at the letter, “It seems he wants some beef and fish tomake up his next cargo.”
“Fred has got a lot on hand, just packed; father is going up in thePerseverance to take it up, settle up the voyage, and bring home themoney. Have you heard the news, Charlie, Tom Bannister brought?”
“No; what is it?”
“Pete Clash and John Godsoe have turned up.”
“They have?”
“Yes; Tom saw ‘em on board a Guineaman in Havana; they pretended notto know him, but he knew them. Just the place for them. Father saysthese Guineamen have a long gun in the hold, and mount it when they getoutside, and are all pirates in disguise.”
The country, especially around the sea-coast, was now in a prosperouscondition. The settlements were pushed back to the head waters ofthe streams, roads made, townships surveyed, town incorporated, andvessels built; the timber trade assumed vast proportions, and moneywas abundant, men began to break away from the rigid manners of theprimitive times, and ape the style of dress and living that prevailedin England, which they had either seen or heard of.
Great numbers of cattle were raised on the lands newly burnt over.Instead of driving the cattle to Brighton or Cambridge, as at thepresent day in seaport towns and country villages, they were butchered,and the beef packed at home, shipped to Spain and other countries ofEurope, and smuggled into Cuba for the use of the Spanish slavers. Fredhad added to his other business that of packing beef, and Uncle Isaacand Joe Griffin bought the cattle for him. He had imported a cooper, bythe name of Wallace, from Standish, to make the barrels, who had takenthree boys as apprentices, thus increasing the business of the place.
Charlie, who as our readers know, was strongly attached to thecultivation of the soil, had neither engaged in vessel or boat buildingsince the Arthur Brown was launched. John Rhines likewise foundplenty of employment upon the home farm, occasionally working in theyard of Reed and Atherton, who came from Massachusetts, and set upship-building, built vessels, and took them to Massachusetts for sale.
Charlie, Fred, and John intended only to build vessels as they wantedthem, and repair old ones, or aid some industrious, enterprising youngman, who wanted a vessel.
They were influenced to this line of conduct very much by the opinionsof Uncle Isaac, who had a most wonderful power of making people thinkas he did; one reason of which was, that he never manifested the leastassumption, and another, that he always placed matters in such a lightthat those with whom he conversed seemed to convince themselves.
One day Uncle Isaac and the boys went pigeon shooting together; as theywere sitting by the fire after dinner, he said. “Where did that corncome from that Seth Warren carried last vige in the Hard-scrabble?”
“From North Carolina,” replied Fred.
“Yes, and where did that cargo you are grinding now, that’s going intothe logging camps, come from?”
“From Baltimore.”
“Do you take in any corn now from round here?”
“When I first began to trade, I used to take in a great deal; but now,except from yourself, Captain Rhines, Ben, Joe Griffin, and one or twomore, I don’t get five bushels in a year; but I sell lots to the peopleround here.”
“It seems to me, when a people get so much taken up with buildingvessels, fishing, cutting masts and ton timber, to send to England,that they have to go to the southerd to buy corn to export, feed theircattle in the logging swamps, bread their families, and fat their hogs,they are in rather a poor way; that there’s more talk than cider;that they ain’t getting rich so fast as they appear to be; when theyraise but little except on burns, never hauling out their dressing,or ploughing the land, but keep going over and over, skimming andskimming, that by and by they will have a very poor set of carcassesleft, and that if there shou
ld come a war, and all this exportation bestopped, there would be pretty blue times. I don’t pretend to know, butit appears to me that’s about the way things are done round here, andall over the District of Maine.”
“I never thought of that before,” said Charlie.
“Nor I either,” said John.
“It’s just as Uncle Isaac says,” said Fred, “just to a T. When I firstbegan to trade, almost everybody had a few bushels of corn to sell,some a good deal; and I never sold a bushel of corn, or meal, exceptto fishermen from some other place; if any of our people wanted corn,wheat or barley, they went to their neighbors.”
“I have thought a good deal about it,” said Uncle Isaac, “and I’vetalked the matter over with Captain Rhines and Benjamin; it strikesthem pretty much as it does me; they ought to be better judges thanme, because they’ve had greater privileges. I helped about theHard-scrabble and the Casco, because I wanted to start you boys, buildup the place, and make business; but it never will do to have theeggs all in one basket, for all to be ship-builders, lumbermen, orfishermen. A ship don’t produce anything; she is herself a product,manned from the land, and victualled from the land; everything comesfrom the ground; we ourselves were made out of it; there must befarmers to feed the rest. I mean, for the future, to put my money intothe land, except I see special reasons for helping somebody.”
When the Hard-scrabble was built, Captain Rhines and Ben rigged her,and made the sails, as also those of the Casco, and the Arthur Brown;but after Reed and Atherton began to build, a rigger and sail-makercame into the place. Charlie Bell built the first pair of cart wheels,that had an iron tire. Uncle Isaac and Captain Rhines for some time hadthe only wagons; but in a few years, carts and wagons were more common,and a blacksmith from Roxbury, who could do carriage work and make edgetools, bought out Peter Brock.
The meeting between Captain Rhines and Arthur (his boy, as he calledhim), in Boston, was a most interesting one. The old captain wasjubilant that all the owners were more than satisfied, and his ownjudgment, in respect to the capacity of the young captain, borne out byfacts.
Though by no means given to the melting mood, he met his protégé withmoistening eyes. It is not within the province of language to describethe joy that thrilled the breast of Arthur Brown, and shone in everyfeature, as he put his hand in that of the captain, resulting from theconsciousness that he had more than answered the expectations andjustified the confidence reposed in him by his own friends and those ofhis father, especially of Captain Rhines, Charlie, Lion Ben, and theothers who had risked their own lives to save his, and, not satisfiedwith this, had also jeopardized their property, to open before him apath to usefulness and honor.
“Where are the boys?” asked Captain Rhines, after he had talked half anhour with Arthur.
“They started for home in a coaster yesterday. I have shipped them allfor the next voyage.”
“Where is Peterson?”
“Gone with them.”
“Walter and little Ned?”
“They went to Salem together after the vessel was discharged; arecoming back to-morrow, expecting to go home with you, or whoever cameup. Then you’re fully satisfied with me, captain?”
“_Satisfied!_ My dear boy, I should have been satisfied if you had donehalf as well. There’s not a shipmaster in the country but would beproud of much less than you have done.”
“Mr. Bell and your sons are satisfied?”
“Why, to be sure they are. I don’t know what they could be made of, ifthey are not.”
“Well,” said Arthur, laying both his hands on the captain’s shoulders,“I have brought home in this vessel that which will afford greatersatisfaction to Mr. Bell, yourself and family, than all the money Ihave made this passage. I have brought home Mr. Bell’s father.”
“You must be jesting, or have been deceived. His father has been in hisgrave for years.”
“No; he was not killed, as was supposed, but carried a prisonerto France. He has told Eaton and Peterson the whole story of hisimpressment, just as they say Charlie told it; told his son’s age,looks, and the scar on his face. There’s no mistake—can’t be. You’llsay so when you see him.”
“God ‘a mercy! Well, this is news indeed. But you didn’t mention it inyour letter.”
“His father didn’t want me to.”
“Where is he?”
“He’s gone to ride with Mr. Welch. I am to meet him there, and taketea, and then he is coming aboard.”
“I’ll go there to tea. I have a standing invitation. Well, if I ain’tglad! What do you suppose Charlie was about when I came away?”
“I’m sure I don’t know.”
“He was getting ready to put a hedge round the spot where his motherlies; sent up by me to get the plants of Mr. Welch, and wanted me totalk with him about a monument that he wanted to put up to his father’smemory, and a brother and sister that he has heard died in England; andalso to get some plans and bring home to him. And now, instead of themonumental plans, he’ll have the man himself.”
[The Mr. Welch referred to here is a wealthy merchant and ship owner,an intimate friend of Captain Rhines, in whose employ he had sailedthe greater part of his life. His son James, a young man of singularpromise, but broken down by intemperance, was sent by his father to ElmIsland in order to get him out of the way of temptation, and restoredby the influence of Uncle Isaac.]
“But,” continued Captain Rhines, “the boys will be home before us, willsee Charlie, and let the cat out of the bag.”
“No, they won’t; I’ve told them not to.”
The Perseverance had now been away ten days, and Charlie was expectingto receive his “quicks” at her return. He had, in the spring, ploughedthe ground intended for his hedge, and planted it with potatoes, tosubdue the tough sward. Having dug the potatoes, and spaded in a heavycoating of manure, he was busily engaged (on one of those delightfulautumn mornings when the hoar frost is melting from the grass, anddripping from the extremity of the leaves, and the muscles feel thatjoyous thrill which the season of the year inspires) in levelling thesurface with a rake, removing the stones, twigs, and bark that hadfallen from the elm. Feeling a hand laid lightly upon his shoulder, heraised his eyes, and looked Walter Griffin full in the face.
“Why, Walter,” he exclaimed, taking both his hands, and struck with theexpression of heartfelt joy which pervaded every feature, “how happyyou look!”
“I hope so. I’m sure I ought to.”
“He ain’t any happier than I am,” said a voice that Charlie well knew;and stepping from behind the great tree, Ned Gates ran into his arms.
“Why, Ned, how you have grown! I should hardly know you.”
“Have I, truly, Mr. Bell?” replied Ned, excessively pleased.
“Yes; and see what a cue he’s got,” said Walter, turning him round.
“Be still, Wal; how you do like to poke fun at me.”
“Mr. Bell,” asked Walter, “can you bear good news?”
“I guess so.”
“But you never had any such news as this.”
“I stood it pretty well when the Ark made her great voyage, and whenIsaac Murch made so much money in the Hard-scrabble. I guess I canstand this,” replied Charlie, thinking Walter was about to tell him howmuch the Arthur Brown had made.
“O, it ain’t about money at all, but it’s something that will make yougladder than if you had a pile of gold as big as Elm Island.”
“Then it must be that you have given your heart to God, Walter.”
The tears came into Walter’s eyes in a moment.
“And do you think so much of me, Mr. Bell?”
“Just so much.”
“Well, it is not that. _Your father has come._”
“My father, Walter, is dead, and I am preparing to put up a monument tohis memory, right where we stand.”
“You needn’t put up any monument, for he’s alive and well, and inCaptain Rhines’s house this minute.”
Charlie turned
pale, staggered, and would have fallen to the ground,but was so near the elm that he fell against it. Walter put his armaround him, and he leaned his head on his friend’s shoulder.
“What made you tell him that way?” asked Ned.
“I didn’t mean to; but when he spoke to me about giving my heart toGod, I didn’t know what I said.”
“It’s over, now,” said Charlie, lifting his head from Walter’s shoulder.
“He wasn’t killed, Mr. Bell,” said Ned, “though he was flung overboardfor dead. The French picked him up, and we found him in Marseilles,selling baskets.”
“I will go right up to Captain Rhines’s,” said Charlie. “You stop atthe house till I come back.”
“I must go home,” said Walter; “and Ned is going with me. I haven’tbeen home yet. I didn’t want anybody to bring this news but myself andNed.”
When Charlie—his pale features still manifesting traces of thefeelings which had mastered him—entered the sitting-room, the captain,taking him by the hand, pointed to the door of the parlor, which stoodajar.
We will draw a veil over the meeting of father and son; but when, atthe expiration of half an hour, they came out together, traces of tearswere on the cheeks of both, but they were tears of joy. When Charliepresented his wife to his father, and placed the child in his arms, “Ican now,” said the happy grand-parent, “say, in the words of old Jacob,‘I had not thought to see _thy_ face, and lo! God hath also showed methy seed.’”
As they sat side by side, the old gentleman with the child on his knee,Captain Rhines said,—
“I don’t see how anybody who ever saw Charlie could harbor any doubtabout Mr. Bell’s being his father—they favor each other so much.”
“Ah, captain,” was the reply, “put an old, faded, red shirt on me, allstained up with osier sap, a tarpaulin hat, a bundle of baskets onmy back, and, more than all, the heart-broken look I wore then, youyourself couldn’t have found much resemblance.”
As they returned to Pleasant Cove by the road that wound along theslope of land towards the house, skirting the sugar orchard, the sun,which was now getting low, illuminated with its level rays the wholedeclivity, falling off in natural terraces to the shore, and flashedupon the foliage of the rock-maples, now red as blood. Indian Island,with its high cliffs rising up from the glassy bosom of the bay, thewhite trunks and yellow leaves of its masses of tall birch contrastingwith the darker hues of the oak and ash, with which the edges of thebank were fringed, presented a mingling of tints most delightful.
Mr. Bell, upon whom the glories of a New England forest in autumnproduced all the effect of novelty, was, for a while, silent withwonder and delight.
He at length exclaimed, “How grand, how beautiful! And is all this landand forest yours, my son?”
“Yes, father, and a great deal more than you can see from here. Ibought four hundred acres first, and two hundred more afterwards.Father, do you see that large island, with a cleared spot on the sideof it?”
“With a house on it, that looks as though it were on fire, the sun isshining so bright on the windows?”
“Yes, that’s the one; that is Elm Island, where Lion Ben and his wifelive, who have been a father and mother to me. God bless you, old ElmIsland. What happy years I have spent on you!”
They next proceeded to the little promontory, and Mr. Bell stood besidethe grave of her from whom he parted, in bitterness of heart, when hewas pressed on board the hulk at Sheerness.
“Poor Mary! She starved—saw poverty and sorrow enough in this world;but I believe she is now experiencing infinitely more happiness thanwould be hers, were it in our power to call her from the grave to joinus. I am glad, my son, that you have not set these quicks; we’ll makethe hedge together. When I am gone, you can lay me in this beautifulspot beside her.”
They sat together beneath the elm, talking, till the stars began tocome out one after another; and when that night Charlie knelt down topray, it was with a heart full to overflowing with gratitude and joy.
Arthur Brown, The Young Captain Page 19