The Young Ship Builders of Elm Island 11

The Young Ship Builders of Elm Island 11

The parson was brought ashore from the vessel in the large canoe; and

as the beach was wet, Ben took him in his arms and set him down on the

grass ground, without ruffling a feather; here he was met and welcomed

by Sally.

 

Our young readers might be interested if we should describe the dress

of this good man, whose arrival had excited so much interest, and

caused such a commotion, on Elm Island; it was the usual dress of the

ministers of that day, and quite remarkable.

 

A dark-blue broadcloth coat of the finest material, with a broad back,

wide skirts, and a very long waist. It reached below the knees, the

front edges on both sides being cut to the segment of a circle, from

the end of the collar to the bottom of the skirts, the two edges just

meeting in the middle over the abdomen, there fastened, when fastened

at all, with a single hook and eye; the collar was quite wide, and laid

over flat on the back; there was one row of black enamelled buttons in

front, about the size of an old-fashioned Spanish milled dollar, with

button holes to correspond to the size of the buttons, but which were

never used, as the coat was never fastened except by the single hook

and eye. The vest was of black kerseymere, reaching some six inches or

more below the hips, with broad and deep pocket-flaps on each side,

covering a capacious pocket. It was buttoned from the hips, close to

the throat, with enamelled buttons as large as an English shilling,

and finished round the neck with a narrow collar, three fourths of

an inch wide. The lower corners of the vest were rounded off, so as

always to hang open. To complete the dress, was a pair of dark-blue

small clothes, buttoned tight around the body above the hips, and worn

without suspenders, as they had not then been invented. A pair of heavy

black silk stockings reached above the knee, under the small clothes,

which were buttoned down close over the stockings below the knee,

and there fastened by silver buckles. On his feet he wore a pair of

round-toed shoes with short quarters, and fastened by a pair of large

silver buckles that covered the whole of the instep. On his head he

wore a large full-bottomed wig of silvery whiteness, fitting close to

the head, the hair from the whole head being shaved twice a week, to

permit the wig to fit close to the head. The back part of this wig,

on the “bottom,” as it was technically called, was very large, and

consisted of a mass of curls, of the kind that young ladies now call

frizzled; and as the collar of the vest was narrow, and the collar of

the coat laid flat on the back, the bottom of the wig could reach quite

near to the shoulders without interfering with any part of the dress.

Surmounting all was a large three-cornered cocked hat of the finest

beaver, but without any nap; this, with cravat and ample bands under

the chin, both of snowy whiteness, formed the costume of the venerable

man, who, on the beach of Elm Island, received the congratulations of

Sally and Mrs. Hadlock, and was regarded by these rebellious Yankees,

who had recently flung off the yoke of monarchy, with a veneration as

great as that of a true-bred Briton for his anointed king.

 

In cold weather this dress was supplemented by a long blue broadcloth

cloak, with a small cape, thrown over the shoulders, but never

fastened in front. In this dress, with no covering for his legs from

the knee to the foot except silk tight-fitting stockings, without boots

or buskins (the latter being much worn by all except seamen, to keep

the snow out of the shoes), he preached sermons three quarters of an

hour in length, in a meeting-house without fire, and quite open.

 

Why the good man did not freeze is to us a mystery only to be solved by

concluding, with Aunt Molly Bradish, that “‘twas all ordered.”

 

At the meeting they got along splendidly with their singing, Uncle

Isaac lifting the tune and taking the lead. The whole company thought

they had never heard such a sermon; that the good man excelled himself;

while _he_ spoke in the highest terms of the singing.

 

In respect to the supper, it needed not the encomiums freely lavished

upon it, as the performances of the reverend gentleman and all

concerned afforded more substantial evidence than figures of rhetoric

could furnish of their appreciation of its merits.

 

In short, it was a most pleasant and profitable season to all. No

one seemed to enjoy himself less, not even Captain Rhines and the

minister, for the lack of spirit.

 

“One thing is sartin, Benjamin,” said Uncle Isaac, as they sat down

together in the porch, to enjoy a quiet pipe; “which is, that people

can enjoy themselves, be sociable and neighborly, without liquor.”

 

“Yes, and feel better after it’s over,” was the reply.

 

Capacious as Ben’s house now was, it could by no means lodge all

the company. A field bed was made in the parlor and kitchen, with

additional bed-clothes which Ben had borrowed from his mother and Mrs.

Hadlock.

 

The schooner’s crew slept on board; Fred and Charlie, to their entire

satisfaction, in the haymow, as it was long since they had met, and

they had many things to talk over.

 

They dug a great hole in the hay and lined it with the mainsail of the

West Wind, got a meal bag and stuffed it with chaff for a pillow, then

taking the foresail for a covering, they lay spoon-fashion, and talked

themselves to sleep.

 

“Charlie,” said Fred, “I’ll tell you what I’ve been thinking about:

there are a good many people that fish in big canoes; they catch a

great many fish in the spring and summer, and even in the winter, when

there comes a spell of good weather, that they dare go out, because,

you know, they have to row in. Well, they say, if I will put some goods

in the mill, that they will bring their fish to me, and take pay in

goods. Then some that fish in schooners, say, if I will put up some

flakes, they will bring their fish to me, and give me one quintal in

fifteen for making them.”

 

“I’d do it, Fred; I think you’ll stand in your own light if you don’t;

you know you’ve got a wharf at the mill to land fish and goods, and

a place in your mill for your goods, measures, a scale and weights,

counter and shelves: you are all fixed.”

 

“Not by a good deal. If I take fish from the canoes, I must have a

fish-house to salt and keep them in, and a pair of large scales to

weigh them, and the fish-house must be large enough to store a fare of

fish, or two or three, till they are made and marketed. Then it will

cost something to put up flakes; though father says he’ll give me the

timber to build the house and flakes, and let me use his oxen to haul

the timber to the spot, and the logs to the mill for the boards. But

then I can’t sell these fish till fall, and in the mean time I must

buy salt and goods, and I don’t like to run in debt. I have but little

money, and I ain’t one of the kind to go into a thing without making

some kind of calculation as to how I’m coming out.”

 

“I’ll tell you what you do, Fred: go and cut your frame, and logs for

boards; haul your frame logs to the spot, and roll them up on skids all

ready to hew, and your logs for boards to the mill; cut and haul your

stuff for flakes; Joe Griffin won’t be gone more than a fortnight or

three weeks; when he comes back, I’ll get him and his crew, father, and

some more, and we’ll hew your frame out, raise it, and make your flakes

in two days. I can board and shingle it, and make the doors for you,

and you can pay me in goods.”

 

“You are very kind, Charlie; it’s just like you; but even with all

these helps, I’ve not half money enough; three hundred and fifty

dollars won’t go far in buying goods.”

 

“What kind of goods do you want?”

 

“The most, of molasses, tea, coffee, and salt. O, I forgot the tobacco.

Rum I don’t drink, and won’t sell. These are the heaviest. I shall want

some sugar, nails, a few pots and kettles, medicines, calico, powder

and shot; the rest I can barter for round here. You know it takes a

good while, and is a great deal of expense, to get goods from Portland

or Boston here. You must be able, when you go, to buy enough at once to

last a good while.”

 

“Now, Fred, listen to me: you, John, and myself have always been

together, like the fingers on one hand; we put our ventures into your

hands, and you did well for yourself and us: now, what is to hinder

John and me from putting more goods in your store to sell at half

profits. I’ve got four hundred dollars, John has got three hundred

dollars; there’s seven hundred dollars: we’ll put that into tea and

coffee; we’ll get Captain Rhines to go to Boston or Portland, and buy

it for us, put it in your hands to sell at half profits; then you can

have your own money to get other things. You can put a few goods in,

and go right to taking fish from the canoes, and by the time the large

vessels get along, we will get our goods.”

 

“Charlie, you are a friend indeed; but will John be willing to do it?”

 

“Yes; John Rhines will be willing to do anything that is good and

noble. He started the matter the first time; I mean to get the start

of him now. I’ll write to him to-morrow; there’s a vessel going to

Portland with timber, and the money is over to his father’s.”

 

“Then,” said Fred, “I’ll go to Portland in her, and get a few things. I

can salt the fish in our barn till I get the fish-house built, and put

any dry fish I may make in the mill.”

 

“I don’t believe but I can coax Joe Griffin to go in, and Flour; he’s

got money in Captain Rhines’s hands; I know father will.”

 

It now being well towards morning, they went to sleep. The next day,

Charlie not only persuaded Joe Griffin, but Uncle Isaac and his father,

to help Fred.

 

“I’ll tell you,” said Captain Rhines, “what you had better do. It’s a

poor calculation for Fred to take what he has got and go buy a small

quantity--he can’t make anything. I’ll take him and Charlie in the

Perseverance, and we’ll go right to Boston and get the whole. I’ll get

Mr. Welch to buy for me; he will do it better than I can.”

 

“But we’ve not heard from John,” said Charlie.

 

“Well, I’ve got the money, and I’ll take it with me. We’ll run into

Portland and ask him. I’ll get Flour to put his in. I’ll put in the tea

and tobacco, because I expect to trade with Fred, and I want to be sure

that they’re good.”

 

The company now prepared to depart; but Ben persuaded Parson Goodhue to

stay, telling him that the vessel was going to Boston the next day,

and they would set him ashore at the mill wharf as they went along.

 

While Ben and Charlie were gone to the main land with their friends,

the minister was left with Sally and Mrs. Hadlock. He amused himself

by taking a walk over the island, admiring its beauty, and looking at

the crops. Charlie had told him he had a wild goose and gander, and

also some goslings, the progeny of a tame goose and the wild gander.

After returning to the house and resting a while, he expressed a strong

desire to see them.

 

“I can find them, Mrs. Rhines, if you will tell me in what direction to

go.”

 

“I don’t think you had better go alone, sir, for the gander is in the

pen, and is quite cross.”

 

“Indeed, Mrs. Rhines, I trust you don’t think I’m afraid of a goose.”

 

But Sally persisted in going with him.

 

The reverend gentleman was very much pleased with the goslings, who

bore a strong resemblance to both parents; but he was especially

delighted with the wild gander, which was a splendid fellow, and, from being well fed, was large and plump.