Chapter 7

"We will go to our own meeting; I want you to hear Reverend Doctor Cooper,"[30] said Berinthia. The meetinghouse was in Brattle Street, close by the barracks. The soldiers were lounging around the building staring at the people, laughing, smoking their pipes, and making rude remarks. When meeting was over the soldiers gathered around the door and leered at the girls. Robert clenched his fist and felt his blood grow hot. A lieutenant started to walk beside Berinthia.

[Footnote 30: The meetinghouse in Brattle Street at the time of the opening of this story was a large unpainted wooden structure which was torn down in 1772 and replaced by an elegant edifice of brick with quoins of freestone. John Hancock gave one thousand pounds and a bell. The pastor, Reverend Samuel Cooper, was an earnest advocate for the rights of the Colonies, and without doubt his influence, combined with that of Samuel Adams, had much to do in attaching Hancock to the patriots' side.]

"My cousin will not need your escort, sir," said Robert touching his elbow.

The officer grew red in the face and disappeared in the barracks.

On Monday morning Robert bade his friends good-by. Peter Augustus had something for him at the Green Dragon: a basket filled with fruit--melocotoons, pears, and plums--and a neatly written note.

"Will Mr. Walden kindly take a basket of fruit to his sister, Miss Rachel, from Ruth Newville."

That was all. What a surprise it would be to Rachel! Why was Miss Newville sending it? She never had met Rachel; knew nothing of her, except what little he had said, yet the gift!

The sun was going down the following evening when he reached the turn of the road bringing him in sight of home. He was yet half a mile away, but Rachel was standing in the doorway waving her apron. She could not wait for Jenny to trot home, but came down the road bareheaded, climbed into the wagon, put her arms around his neck, and gave him a hug and a kiss. There was a look of wonder on her face when he uncovered the basket of fruit and told her who had sent it,--a beautiful girl, one of Berinthia's friends, whom he had rescued from the king's soldiers. There were tears in Rachel's eyes when he put the beads around her neck.

"Oh, Rob! how good you are!"

It was all she could say.

* * * * *

November came, and Berinthia Brandon was sitting in her chamber. From its eastern window she looked across the burial ground with its rows of headstones. The leafless trees were swaying in the breeze. She was thinking of what Samuel Adams had said to her, that life is worth living just in proportion to the service we can render to others. What had she ever done for anybody? Not much. A feeling of sadness came over her. The afternoon sun was lengthening the shadows of the headstones across the grass-grown mounds. The first snow of approaching winter was lying white and pure above the sleeping forms of those who had finished their earthly work. Beyond the burial ground she beheld the harbor. The tide had been at its flood, and was sweeping towards the sea. A ship was sailing down the roadstead to begin its adventurous voyage to a distant land.

"Why can I not do something for somebody instead of idling my time away?" she said to herself, recalling what Mr. Adams had said--that it was the duty of every woman to forego personal comfort and pleasure for the promotion of the public good; that everybody should leave off using tea to let the king, the ministry, and the people of England know that the men and women of the Colonies could stand resolutely and unflinchingly for a great principle. With her father, mother, and Tom she had quit drinking tea; why should she not persuade others to banish it from their tables? A thought came to her, and she opened her writing-desk, a gift from her father, beautifully inlaid with ivory, which he had obtained in a foreign country. She dipped her pen into the ink, reflected a moment, and then wrote her thought: "_We, the daughters of patriots, who have stood and do now stand for the public interest, with pleasure engage with them in denying ourselves the drinking of foreign tea, in hope to frustrate a plan that tends to deprive the community of its rights._"[31]

[Footnote 31: The agreement signed by the mothers and daughters may be found in the _Boston News-Letter_, February 15, 1770.]

In her enthusiasm she walked the floor, thinking of those whom she would ask to sign it. She would not subject herself to ridicule by calling upon those who sided with the king, but upon those who she knew were ready to make sacrifices for justice and right.

"I am glad you have written it, daughter," Mr. Brandon said when she informed him of what she had done and was intending to do; "I see no reason, wife, why you should not do what you can in the same way among the women, to let people on the other side of the sea understand the Colonies are in earnest. Already there has been a great falling off in trade between the Colonies and England, and if we can stop this tea trade it will not be long before the merchants will be swarming around Parliament demanding something to be done. We must arouse public sentiment on this question, and you, daughter, are just the girl to begin it."

Mr. Brandon reached out his hand and took Berinthia's and gave it a squeeze to let her know he had faith in her.

"I will do what I can to persuade others," she said, returning the pressure.

Through the night Berinthia was thinking over what she had started to accomplish, and what arguments she should use to influence those whom she would ask to sign the agreement. The great idea, with a moral principle behind it, took possession of her mind and drove sleep from her eyes and aroused the energies of the soul. Why undertake the arduous task alone? Why not ask Doctor Cooper to preach about it? If she could but get the ministers enlisted, they could awaken public sentiment.

"Ah! I have it. Week after next is Thanksgiving, and I will get them to preach sermons that will stir up the people," she said to herself.

Thanksgiving Day came. Very eloquent were the words spoken for Justice, Right, and Liberty by Reverend Doctor Cooper, Reverend Doctor Eliot, Reverend Doctor Checkley, and nearly all the other ministers, excepting Reverend Mr. Coner, rector of King's Chapel, and Reverend Mather Byles of Christ Church, whose sympathies were with the king.[32]

[Footnote 32: Reverend Andrew Eliot was pastor of the New North Church, an edifice still standing at the corner of Hanover and Clark streets, and used by the Roman Catholics. Reverend Samuel Checkley was pastor of the New South Church, and Reverend Samuel Blair of the Old South. These pastors were outspoken in denunciation of the offensive measures of the king and his ministers.]

In every household fathers and mothers, sons and daughters and grandchildren, gathered in the old home, and had a great deal to say, while partaking of the roast turkey and plum-pudding, of the sermons they had heard in the different meetinghouses. All the ministers preached about the proposal of Parliament to levy a tax upon tea, and that if it could not be defeated in any other way it was the patriotic duty of the people to quit using the herb. They must deny themselves the luxury, that they might maintain their freedom. Little did they know that a blue-eyed girl had called upon Doctor Cooper and read to him what she had written, an agreement to drink no more tea; how his soul had been set on fire and he had gone with her to the houses of other ministers, that they might look into her eyes and see the flashing of a resolute spirit in behalf of justice, righteousness, and liberty.

Although the snow was deep in the streets, the drifts did not deter Berinthia from calling upon her friends. Many of the good ladies were ready to sign an agreement to drink no more tea; others hesitated. She was warmly welcomed by Mrs. Abigail Adams, who at once saw how great would be the influence of the women upon their husbands.

"But what shall we drink instead of tea?" asked Dorothy Quincy.

"When summer comes, we will go out into the fields and gather strawberry leaves, and call them Hyperion, or some other elegant name. I think it quite as pretty a name as Old Hyson, and I am not sure that they will not be more healthful," Berinthia replied.

Miss Dorothy laughed heartily. "Yes, and we can, upon a pinch, drink cold water from the town pump and flavor it with peppermint," she said, as she wrote her name.

After leaving Miss Quincy, Berinthia lifted the knocker of the Newville mansion, not to ask Ruth to sign the agreement; she could not do that, for Mr. Newville was a Tory, and the signers were daughters of patriots.

"How good it is to see you once more. It is a very long time since I have looked upon your face," Ruth exclaimed, embracing her.

"The snow has been so deep and I have had so much to do, I have not found time to call till now, and I don't know as I should be here to-day only I am spinning street-yarn for a particular purpose."

Ruth was at a loss to understand her.

"I am calling on my acquaintances, and I was not quite sure whether I ought to skip you or not."

"Skip me! What have I done that you should think of dropping me from your acquaintance?"

Berinthia saw a wondering and injured look in the loving eyes.

"Oh, you haven't done anything; it is what the king, Lord North, and Parliament are doing. They intend to make us pay taxes against our will, and we girls are signing an agreement not to drink any more tea, and I am calling on my friends for that purpose."

The look of wonder and grief disappeared, and Ruth's face brightened once more. She read the agreement and the list of names.

"I didn't call, dear Ruth, to ask you to sign it. I have no right to do so. It is an agreement to be signed by the daughters of those who are opposed to being taxed in this way. Your father, doubtless, may be willing to pay the tax; my father is not. You may not think as we do, but that shall not disturb our friendship. I shall love you just as I have ever since we were children."

"How good you are! I appreciate your kindness. My father and mother stand for the king, but I have my own opinion. Under the terms of the agreement, I cannot sign it, but I am with you in spirit. I can see the course taken by the king is not right or just, and it will fail. Nothing can succeed in the end that is not right."

"Oh, Ruth, how you shame me. Here I have been fidgeting over the cutting things some of the girls and their mothers have been saying. One asked if I expected to bankrupt the East India Company. Another wanted to know if I was going to wear trousers and vote in town meeting."

"So mother's afternoon tea-party stands a chance of being the last, for the present, at least. By the way, do you ever hear from your cousin, Mr. Walden?"

"No, I have not heard a word since he left us. I should not be surprised, however, if he were to drop in upon us any day, for I have written him that the ship is to be launched soon. Father intends to make it a grand occasion when the Berinthia Brandon glides into the water. I shall have all my friends present, Ruth Newville chief among them."

"Count upon me to do whatever I can to make it a happy day," said Ruth.

VII.

LAUNCHING OF THE BERINTHIA BRANDON.

The pigs had been fattening through the winter, and it was quite time to send them to market.

"You did so well with the cheese, you may see what you can do with the shoats," said Mr. Walden to Robert. "It is good sleighing. You can harness the colt and Jenny, and go with the pung. I want you to take Rachel along. You can stay a couple of weeks and have a good visit."

There was a glow upon Rachel's face. It would be her first journey. She would see new things, and make new acquaintances. During the evenings she had been knitting a hood and mittens of the finest wool, and would present them to Miss Newville.

It was a resplendent morning, with the eastern sky like molten gold in the light of the rising sun, and the hoar-frost upon the twigs of the leafless trees changing to glittering diamonds. The colt, sleek and plump, was champing his bit and shaking his head in his impatience to be off. Jenny was staid and sober, but when Robert said, "Now, lad and lady," the colt pranced a few steps, then settled to a steady trot, learning a lesson from Jenny.

An hour before lunch-time they whirled up to Captain Stark's tavern in Derryfield, and before sunset came to a halt in the dooryard of a relative in Andover. Before noon the next day Rachel was looking with wondering eyes upon the gleaming spires of the meetinghouses and the crooked streets of Boston.

"You have come just at the right time," said Berinthia, welcoming her with a kiss, "for I am to be launched day after to-morrow."

Seeing by the look of wonder on Rachel's face that she was not understood, Berinthia explained that the ship her father was building was to bear her name, and that everything was ready for the launching.

"Oh, it will be so delightful to have you here!" she added. "We will be on the deck, ever so many of us,--my friends, papa's and mamma's and Tom's. Ruth Newville will be here; and Tom's classmate in Harvard College, Roger Stanley, who lives out beyond Lexington, is coming. He's a real nice young man, and I am sure you will like him. Tom's girl will be here, Mary Shrimpton; she is out in the kitchen now. She has been helping us make crumpets, crullers, gingerbread, and cake. Father and mother intend to make it a grand affair, and have invited half of the town,--doctors, lawyers, ministers, and their wives; everybody that is anybody. Tom has invited his friends, and I mine, because the ship is to bear my name."

Rachel said she was glad she had come to see and enjoy it all.

"We will have a jolly time while you are here; it is vacation at college, and I shan't have to study," said Tom.

A young lady with a pleasant face, light blue eyes, and soft brown hair, entered the room and was introduced as Miss Shrimpton.

"She has been helping us get ready, and has rolled out a bushel of crullers," said Tom.

"Not quite so many," said Miss Shrimpton, smiling.

Robert thought her very attractive and pleasing.

"I think I will go home now; father and mother will be expecting me, but I will be round to-morrow," said Miss Shrimpton.

Tom put on his hat and escorted her. When he returned, and he and Robert were by themselves, he said that she was the best girl in Boston.

"Her father," he went on, "is a red-hot Tory. He lives in a fine house, owns thousands of acres of land out in the country, thinks King George a saint, ordained of God to rule us; that Sam Adams and Doctor Warren are tricksters fooling the people for their own benefit. But Mary is just the nicest girl you ever saw. She has no mother, runs the house for her father, keeps everything as neat as a pin, and by and by, after I get through at Harvard and am in possession of my sheepskin with A. B. on it, she will be Mrs. Tom Brandon."

Robert congratulated Tom upon his engagement.

The next morning saw Robert in the market disposing of what he had to sell, while Berinthia with Rachel called upon Miss Newville.

"It was very kind of you to send such a basket of fruit to me, a stranger; will you please accept a little gift in return? It is not much, but it will let you know that I appreciate your goodness," said Rachel, placing a bundle in Miss Newville's hands. When it was opened Ruth beheld a close-fitting hood of the softest lamb's wool, made beautiful with pink ribbons; there was also a pair of mittens.

"Oh, Miss Walden! How good you are! How soft and nice! And they are of your own carding, spinning, and knitting? And you have done it for me, whom you never had seen, and of whom you never heard except through your brother. And is he well?" Miss Newville asked.

"Quite well. You will see him to-morrow at the launching."

"Isn't it delightful that they have come in the nick of time?" said Berinthia.

"How fortunate! And you are to have such a nice party. I will wear the hood and be the envy of everybody," said Miss Newville, putting it on, praising its beauty, and calling in her mother to make Rachel's acquaintance and admire the gift.

The launching of the ship was to be at flood-tide, eleven o'clock in the forenoon. Though in midwinter, the air was mild, as if a warm breath had been wafted landward from the Gulf Stream. There was a fever of excitement and preparation in the Brandon home. Dinah in the kitchen was taking pots of baked beans and loaves of brown bread smoking hot from the oven, filling baskets with crumpets and crullers. Mark Antony was taking them to the shipyard. Mrs. Brandon, Berinthia, Rachel, and Mary Shrimpton were preparing the cakes and pies. Tom and Robert on board the ship were arranging for the collation.

Never before had Rachel beheld anything so enchanting as the scene in the shipyard,--the ship with its tall and tapering masts, its spars and yard-arms; the multitudes of ropes like the threads of a spider's web; flags, streamers, red, white, green, blue, yellow, with devices of lions, unicorns, dragons, eagles, fluttering from bowsprit to fore-royal mast, from taffrail to mizzen. Beneath the bowsprit was the bust of Berinthia, the heart and soul of the man who carved it in every feature, for to Abraham Duncan there was no face on earth so beautiful as that of the shipmaster's daughter.

The guests were assembling on the deck: the commissioner of imposts, Theodore Newville, Mrs. Newville, and their daughter, Ruth; his majesty's receiver-general, Nathaniel Coffin, and his two sons, Isaac and John; Reverend Doctor Samuel Cooper, minister of the church in Brattle Street; Doctor Warren, physician to the family of the shipmaster; Lieutenant-Colonel Dalrymple, commanding the king's troops,--for Mr. Brandon, though deprecating the presence of the troops in Boston, determined to be courteous to the representatives of his majesty; Admiral Montague, who came in his gig rowed by six sailors from his flagship, Romney; William Molineux[33] and John Rowe, merchants; Richard Dana and Edmund Quincy, magistrates; John Adams, a young lawyer; honored citizens and their wives; Master Lovell; and Tom's classmate, Roger Stanley, who had walked from Lexington in the early morning. Among the many ladies, most attractive was Ruth Newville, wearing a close-fitting hood of soft lamb's wool, trimmed with bright ribbon, all her friends admiring it.

[Footnote 33: William Molineux was a prominent merchant who gave his sympathies to the cause of the people. He was one of the committee who demanded the removal of the troops after the Massacre of March 5, 1770. He was one of the "Indians" composing the "Tea-party." He was also one of the promoters of the spinning-school in Long Acre. He died before the outbreak of hostilities.]

Berinthia introduced Rachel and Robert to Mrs. Adams. They found her a very charming lady; she had brought her little boy, John Quincy, to see the launching of the ship.

Picturesque the scene: gentlemen wearing white wigs, blue, crimson, and scarlet cloaks, carrying gold-headed canes, taking pinches of snuff from silver-mounted boxes; young gentlemen with handsome figures and manly faces; ladies with tippets and muffs; girls in hoods,--all congratulating Berinthia, admiring the beauty and tidiness of the ship, and the lovely figure of herself. All praised Abraham Duncan, who blushed like a schoolboy.

They could hear the clattering of mallets and axes beneath them, and knew the carpenters were knocking away the props. The ways had been slushed with grease. The tide was at the flood. Ruth Newville was to break the bottle of wine. She had shaken hands with Robert Walden, and given expression of her pleasure at meeting him once more. Her eyes had followed him; even when not looking towards him she had seen him. Once more she thanked Rachel for her gift. Her mates were asking her where she had found a hood so beautiful and becoming. They stood upon the quarter-deck, Berinthia the queen of the hour, Ruth, radiant and lovely, by her side. They heard the bell striking the hour of eleven. A great crowd had assembled to see the launching. Men, women, boys, and girls were in the yard, flocking the street, gazing from doors and windows of neighboring houses.

"Are you ready there?"

It was the builder of the ship, Mr. Brandon, shouting over the taffrail to those beneath.

"Aye, aye, sir."

"Then knock it away."

They heard a blow from an axe. The stately ship quivered a moment, then glided with increasing speed down the ways.

Mr. Brandon raised his hand, and a ball of bunting at the topmast fluttered out into the Cross of St. George. Ruth lifted the bottle of wine, broke it upon the rail, and poured the contents into the river. A huzza rose from the quarter-deck. Handkerchiefs fluttered in the air. The people tossed up their hats. From street, doorway, and window came an answering shout.

Out from the shore drifted the Berinthia till the anchor dropped from her bow, and she lay a thing of beauty, swinging with the ebbing tide.

In the cabin the guests were partaking of the bountiful and appetizing repast.

"I remember, Miss Newville, that you once graciously served me at an afternoon tea; shall I have the pleasure of waiting upon you?" Robert asked.

"I shall be pleased to be served by you. The fresh air has sharpened my appetite, and I will begin with a plate of beans, if you please."

He brought what she desired, served himself, and took a chair by her side. They talked of the successful launching, of the beauty of the ship, sitting as gracefully as a swan upon the water, of the almost perfect likeness of the figurehead to Berinthia.

"Possibly it is so beautiful because the engraver's heart has gone into it," she said with a smile.

Their eyes met. He thought hers very beautiful at the moment.

Roger Stanley found equal pleasure in serving Rachel, and in listening to what she had to say about the launching, her visit to Boston, and of things in Rumford.

Robert talked with Isaac Coffin, who said he expected to have a commission in his majesty's navy. Admiral Montague was very kind, and was using his influence to secure an appointment. His younger brother, John, liked the army better. Robert came to the conclusion that they were not Sons of Liberty, but were inclined to take sides with the ministry, which was very natural, as their father was holding a very important office under the crown.

There was a merry chattering of voices, a rattling of knives and forks, and changing of plates. Mark Antony was master of ceremonies at the table, giving directions to Cæsar and Pompey.

Although society was divided politically, neighbors still were friends, accepting and giving hospitality, and when meeting socially avoiding all allusion to the proposed bill for taxing the Colonies. All hoped that nothing would be done by Parliament to interrupt friendly relations between the Colonies and the mother country. Doctor Warren made himself agreeable to bluff Admiral Montague. William Molineux cracked jokes with Colonel Dalrymple. Richard Dana and Nathaniel Coffin were friendly neighbors. Mr. Dana could look out from his front windows near Frog Lane,[34] and see the spacious grounds of his neighbor Coffin's "Fields," as the boys who played ball called it. There was no reason why they should be at odds socially, just because Lord North and the king proposed to levy a tax of three pence a pound on tea.

[Footnote 34: Frog Lane extended from Newbury, now Washington Street, to the Common. It is now a part of Boylston Street. Mr. Dana's house commanded an extensive view across the fields, gardens, and orchards owned by Nathaniel Coffin, south of the present Summer Street.]