CHAPTER VII.

CAPTAIN RHINES RIDING OUT A GALE BEFORE THE FIRE.

The morning succeeding Ben’s return from Boston gave tokens of a coming storm.

“Ben,” said Captain Rhines, “we’re going to have a gale of wind; here’s an old roll coming from the east’ard, and the surf is roaring on the White Bull. Let us take the canoe, slip over to Elm Island, and get a couple of lambs, before it comes on. I’m hankering after some fresh ‘grub.’”

When, having caught the lamb, they were pulling out of the harbor, the old gentleman, resting on his oar, looked back upon the mass of forest, and said, “What a tremenjus growth here is! here are masts and yards, bowsprits and topmasts, for a ship of the line; and there’s no end of the small spars and ranging timber; a great deal of it, too, ought to be cut, for it has got its growth, and will soon be falling down. It is first-rate land, and would make a capital farm after it’s cleared. I wish old father Welch had to give it to me; he never would miss it. I believe my soul all he keeps it for is for the sake of coming down here once in three or four years, and going over there gunning ’long with me.”

At noon the gale came on with great violence. The captain took advantage of the stormy afternoon to kill a lamb, and have a regular “tuck out” on a sea-pie. Under his directions, Mrs. Rhines lined the large pot with a thick crust, put in the lamb and slices of pork, with flour, water, and plenty of seasoning, and covered the whole with a crust, which Captain Rhines pricked full of holes with his marline-spike.

In addition to this were pudding, pies, and fried apples; coffee, which was seldom indulged in at that day; and last, but not least, a decanter of Holland gin beside his plate. When they had despatched this substantial repast, the family, eight in number, all drew up around the fire. The old house shook with the violence of the gale; the rain came down in torrents; the roar of the surf was distinctly heard in the intervals of the gusts, while the blaze went up the great chimney in sheets of flame.

The old seaman flung off his coat, kicked off his boots, and sitting down in the midst of this happy circle, while the cheerful light flickered around his weather-beaten form, animated by as noble a heart as ever throbbed in human breast, cried, as he listened to the clatter without, “Blow away, my hearty; while she cracks she holds; let them that’s got the watch on deck keep it; it’s my watch below; eight hours in to-night.”

He then sat some time in silence, with his hands clasped over his knees, and looking into a great bed of rock-maple coals. Rousing up at length, he laid his hard hand on his wife’s shoulder, and, with an expression of heartfelt happiness on his rugged features, that was perfectly contagious, said, “Mary, I do believe I’ve never had one hardship too many. When I think how poor I began life; what my parents suffered before they got the land cleared; why, I’ve seen my poor father hoe corn when he was so weak from hunger that he could scarcely stand. There were times when we should have starved to death, if it had not been for the old dog (stooping down and patting Tige’s head, who lay stretched out before the fire, with his nose on his master’s foot). How glad I felt as I carried them the first dollar I ever earned! and how glad they were to get it! Well, as I was saying, when I hear the wind whistle, and the sea roar, as it does now, I can’t help thinking how many such nights on ship’s deck, wet, worn out, listening to the roar of the surf, and expecting the anchors to come home every minute; next ‘vige’ perhaps in the West Indies; men dying all around me, like sheep, with the yellow fever and black vomit. When I look back, and feel it’s all over, that I’ve got enough to carry me through, can do what little duty I’m fit for, among my comforts, and surrounded by my family, I don’t believe I ever could have had the feelings I’ve got in my bosom to-night, before this comfortable fire, if I hadn’t been through the cold, the hunger, the dangers, and all the other miseries first;” and he rolled up his sleeves in the very wantonness of enjoyment, to feel the grateful warmth of fire on his bare flesh.

“I don’t wonder you do feel so, husband,” replied his wife; “as you say, you’ve enough to carry you through, as far as this life is concerned; but there is another life after this, and, perhaps, if we get to the better world, that also will seem sweeter for all the crosses we take up, and the self-denial we go through in getting there. I’ve often told you, Benjamin, that you lack but one thing; for surely never woman had a kinder husband, or children a better father, than you have always been.”

“God bless you, Mary!” exclaimed the old seaman in the fulness of his heart; “I’ve never been half so good a husband as I ought, and must often have hurt your feelings; for I’m a rough old sea-dog; never had any bringing up, but grew up just like the cattle.

“I never see John Strout but it puts me in mind of his oldest brother, George. We both of us shipped for the first time, as able seamen, in the same vessel; we were about of an age--‘townies;’ both in the same watch, full of blue veins and vitriol, and were forever trying titles to see which was the best man. It was hard work to tell, when the watch was called, whose feet struck the floor first, his’n or mine. If he got into the rigging before I did, I’d go up hand over fist on the back-stay. I’ve known him to go on the topsail yard in his shirt-flaps to get ahead of me. We allers made it a p’int to take the weather earing, or the bunt of a sail, away from the second mate, who was the owner’s nephew, and put over the head of his betters.”

“Was that the reason, father,” said Ben, “you wouldn’t let me go to sea with you?”

“Yes,” he replied. “I’ve seen enough of these half-and-half fellers put in to command before they are fit for it, just to lose better men’s lives, and destroy other people’s property.”

“I think you have the right of it, father. I don’t believe I shall ever be sorry that I came in at the hawsehole, instead of the cabin windows.”

“One terrible dark night, in the Gulf,” continued the old man, “all hands were on the yard trying to furl the fore-topsail; my sheath-knife was jammed between my body and the yard, so that I couldn’t get at it; I reached and took his’n out of the sheath, which he wore behind, and used it; but when I went to put it back again, he was gone; when or how he went, nobody ever knew. I was young then, and new at such things. We had allers been together. I couldn’t keep it out of my mind, and didn’t want to stay in the vessel after that, for everything I took hold of made me think of him.”

“Don’t you think, husband,” said his wife, “that we ought to think where our blessings come from, and not to think it’s all our own work?”

Though Captain Rhines had a rugged temper of his own when roused, with only the education he had picked up at sea, and the culture acquired by friction as he was knocked about in the world, yet he was perfectly moral, and temperate for that day; that is, he was never intoxicated. He had a great respect for religion, especially his wife’s, she being a woman of admirable judgment and ardent piety. She was not in the practice of reproving every unguarded expression, and annoying him with exhortations; telling the ministers her anxieties and fears about him, and urging them to talk to him on the spot, whether they were in a frame to converse, or he to listen. She was satisfied he knew where her heart was, that she prayed earnestly for him, and let it rest at that, save when, as on the present occasion, he put the words in her mouth.

“Well, wife,” he replied, willing to change the subject, “you’ve got religion enough for both of us.”

“No, husband, that must be every one’s own work.”

“That ain’t all, neither. How many years was I going to sea, just coming home to look in to the door, and say, ‘How are you all?’ then off again, leaving you to manage farm, family, and hired help! Why, I had scarcely any more care of my family than an ostrich has of her eggs. It seems so much more happy to be with them now, on that very account! I’m half a mind to believe what I then thought to be the worst trial of all, was a blessing, too. I only wish that great critter over there in the corner,” pointing to Ben, “could get half so good or good-looking a wife as his mother is; but he’s so homely, and there’s so much of it, I’m afraid there’s not a ghost of a chance for him.”

At this there was a general titter amongst the young folks. Ben could hold in no longer, but astonished his parents by telling them what he _had_ done, and what he _meant_ to do.

“By heavens, Ben!” exclaimed his father, springing to his feet, “you’ve been fishing to some purpose; I’d moor head and stern to that girl, and lie by her as long as cables and anchor would hold.”

“I don’t know how to build a log house,” said Ben; “and they’ve been out of use so long round here, I don’t know anybody that does.”

“I do. Isaac Murch; he helped tear down our old log house, when I was a boy. I suppose you know he is the most ing’nious critter that ever lived. I believe he could make a man, if he should set out for it; and I don’t know but he could put a soul in him after he was done. Your grandfather was old and childish, and hated to have the house torn down; so I got Isaac to make a model of it, to please him. I know that he could make one exactly like it, if he had a mind to. I really think I should come to see you a good deal oftener if you were living in the old house, or one that looked just like it.”

“But, father, he wouldn’t work out.”

“He’d do most anything to accommodate you or Sally Hadlock; for, when her father was living, he and Isaac were like two fingers on one hand. I believe he thinks as much of the Hadlock children as he does of his own. There’s no knowing how much he’s done for those children first and last.”

The next day Ben rode over to Isaac’s, who, with his wife, gave him a warm welcome.

“By the way,” said she, “are you engaged to be married to Sally Hadlock? At any rate, I heard so, and it come pretty straight; own up like a man; murder will out.”

“If it is so, I hope it’s nothing to be ashamed of.”

“Ben Rhines, if you’ve got Sally Hadlock, it’s the best day’s work you ever did in your life.”

“I don’t know what you’ll say when I tell you the rest of it.” He then informed them that he had bought Elm Island, and was going to live on it.

“But, Ben, is Sally willing to go on that island to live? I’m sure I should be frightened to death to live there.”

“’Twas her own plan. She wouldn’t hear to my going to sea; and when I said I didn’t know of any way to live ashore, unless I bought that island, she said ’twas just the thing. I was intending to build a frame house next summer; but she says, ‘Build a log house, go right into it, and build a frame house when you’re better able;’ and declares she’ll live in a log house, and nothing else. I had money enough, that I got privateering, to have bought the island, and built the house on’t; but I felt it my duty to help my father out of his difficulties.”

“Goodness! gracious! goodness me!” exclaimed Hannah Murch, holding up both hands. “Ben Rhines, are you a wizard, to bewitch the girls after this fashion? Such offers as that girl has had, to my sartin knowledge! She loves you, Ben, and you may be sure of that to begin with. Well! well! well! this beats all the story books.”

“She’s just right,” said Isaac. “She knows that Ben gives up the cap’in’s berth to please her; that he’ll have a hard scratch of it, and she means to scratch, too. You’re just right, both of you.”

“Now, Uncle Isaac,” said Ben, “this house must go right up. Will you go on with me and another man, and ‘boss’ the job?”

“I will, Ben; and I won’t turn my back to any body for building a log house.”

“To-day is Thursday. I should like to begin Monday, if you can come.”

“Well, I don’t know anything to hender; if you haven’t got anybody looked out to help you, I think you’d better get Joe Griffin; he’s a strapping stout feller, handy with an axe, or any kind of tools. I know he’ll go; and if you say so, I’ll bring him along with me, and we’ll be at the landing at sunrise, or thereabouts.”

During Ben’s absence, the widow Hadlock put on her changeable silk, which her husband bought in foreign parts, and her best cap, and taking her knitting-work, went over to Captain Rhines’s. When she came back, she reported that it was all right, and the Rhineses were as much pleased with the match as she was.