 | Sam Lawson's Oldtown fireside stories |  |
THE WIDOW'S BANDBOX.
LORDY massy! Stick yer hat into the
nor'east, Horace, and see 'f ye can't
stop out this 'ere wind. I'm e'eny
most used up with it.”
So spake Sam Lawson, contemplating
mournfully a new broad-brimmed straw
hat in which my soul was rejoicing.
It was the dripping end of a sour November afternoon,
which closed up a “spell o' weather” that had
been steadily driving wind and rain for a week past;
and we boys sought the shelter and solace of his
shop, and, opening the door, let in the wind aforesaid.
Sam had been all day in one of his periodical fits
of desperate industry. The smoke and sparks had
manner; and the blows of his hammer had resounded
with a sort of feverish persistence, intermingled with
a doleful wailing of psalm-tunes of the most lugubrious
description.
These fits of industry on Sam's part were an affliction
to us boys, especially when they happened to
come on Saturday: for Sam was as much a part of
our Saturday-afternoon calculations as if we had a
regular deed of property in him; and we had been
all day hanging round his shop, looking in from time
to time, in the vague hope that he would propose
something to brighten up the dreary monotony of a
holiday in which it had been impossible to go anywhere
or do any thing.
“Sam, ain't you coming over to tell us some
stories to-night?”
“Bless your soul and body, boys! life ain't made
to be spent tellin' stories. Why, I shall hev to be
up here workin' till arter twelve o'clock,” said Sam,
who was suddenly possessed with a spirit of the
most austere diligence. “Here I be up to my neck
in work, — things kind o' comin' in a heap together.
she must have 'em to-night; and there's Lady
Lothrop, she wants her warmin'-pan right off;
they can't non' on 'em wait a minit longer. I've
ben a drivin' and workin' all day like a nigger-slave.
Then there was Jeduth Pettybone, he brought down
them colts to-day, and I worked the biggest part o'
the mornin' shoein' on 'em; and then Jeduth he said
he couldn't make change to pay me, so there wa'n't
nothin' comin' in for 't; and then Hepsy she kep' a
jawin' at me all dinner-time 'bout that. Why, I
warn't to blame now, was I? I can't make everybody
do jest right and pay regular, can I? So ye
see it goes, boys, gettin' yer bread by the sweat o'
your brow; and sometimes sweatin' and not gettin'
yer bread. That 'ere's what I call the cuss, the
'riginal cuss, that come on man for hearkenin' to the
voice o' his wife, — that 'ere was what did it. It allers
kind o' riles me up with Mother Eve when I
think on't. The women hain't no bisness to fret as
they do, 'cause they sot this 'ere state o' things goin'
in the fust place.”
“But, Sam, Aunt Lois and Aunt Nabby are both
just come over and eat supper with us and tell us a
story, do.”
“Gone out to tea, be they?” said Sam, relaxing
his hammering, with a brightening gleam stealing
gradually across his lanky visage. “Wal, that 'ere
looks like a providential openin', to be sure. Wal, I
guess I'll come. What's the use o' never havin' a
good time? Ef you work yourself up into shoe-strings
you don't get no thanks for it, and things in
this world's 'bout as broad as they is long: the women
'll scold, turn 'em which way ye will. A good
mug o' cider and some cold victuals over to the Deakin's
'll kind o' comfort a feller up; and your granny
she's sort o' merciful, she don't rub it into a fellow
all the time like Miss Lois.”
“Now, let's see, boys,” said Sam, when a comfortable
meal of pork and beans had been disposed of,
and a mug of cider was set down before the fire to
warm. “I s'pect ye'll like to hear a Down-East
story to-night.”
Of course we did, and tumbled over each other in
our eagerness to get the nearest place to the narrator.
Sam's method of telling a story was as leisurely as
that of some modern novel-writers. He would take
his time for it, and proceed by easy stages. It was
like the course of a dreamy, slow-moving river
through a tangled meadow-flat, — not a rush nor a
bush but was reflected in it; in short, Sam gave his
philosophy of matters and things in general as he
went along, and was especially careful to impress an
edifying moral.
“Wal, ye see, boys, ye know I was born down to
Newport, — there where it's all ships and shipping,
and sich. My old mother she kep' a boardin'-house
for sailors down there. Wal, ye see, I rolled and
tumbled round the world pretty consid'able afore I
got settled down here in Oldtown.
“Ye see, my mother she wanted to bind me out to
a blacksmith, but I kind o' sort o' didn't seem to take
to it. It was kind o' hard work, and boys is apt to
want to take life easy. Wal, I used to run off to the
sea-shore, and lie stretched out on them rocks there,
and look off on to the water; and it did use to look
so sort o' blue and peaceful, and the ships come a
sailin' in and out so sort o' easy and natural, that I
fellow could have. All he had to do was to get
aboard one o' them ships, and be off seekin' his
fortin at t'other end o' the rainbow, where gold
grows on bushes and there's valleys o' diamonds.
“So, nothin' would do but I gin my old mother
the slip; and away I went to sea, with my duds tied
up in a han'kercher.
“I tell ye what, boys, ef ye want to find an easy
life, don't ye never go to sea. I tell ye, life on shipboard
ain't what it looks to be on shore. I hadn't
been aboard more'n three hours afore I was the sickest
critter that ever ye did see; and I tell you, I
didn't get no kind o' compassion. Cap'ns and mates
they allers thinks boys hain't no kind o' business to
have no bowels nor nothin', and they put it on 'em
sick or well. It's jest a kick here, and a cuff there,
and a twitch by the ear in t'other place; one a
shovin' on 'em this way, and another hittin' on 'em a
clip, and all growlin' from mornin' to night. I believe
the way my ears got so long was bein' hauled
out o' my berth by 'em: that 'are's a sailor's regular
way o' wakin' up a boy.
“Wal, by time I got to the Penobscot country, all
I wanted to know was how to get back agin. That
'are's jest the way folks go all their lives, boys. It's
all fuss, fuss, and stew, stew, till ye get somewhere;
and then it's fuss, fuss, and stew, stew, to get back
agin; jump here and scratch yer eyes out, and jump
there and scratch 'em in agin, — that 'are's life.
“Wal, I kind o' poked round in Penobscot country
till I got a berth on `The Brilliant' that was lyin'
at Camden, goin' to sail to Boston.
“Ye see, `The Brilliant' she was a tight little sloop
in the government service: 'twas in the war-times,
ye see, and Commodore Tucker that is now (he was
Cap'n Tucker then), he had the command on her, —
used to run up and down all the coast takin' observations
o' the British, and keepin' his eye out on 'em,
and givin' on 'em a nip here and a clip there,' cordin'
as he got a good chance. Why, your grand'ther
knew old Commodore Tucker. It was he that took
Dr. Franklin over Minister, to France, and dodged
all the British vessels, right in the middle o' the war.
I tell you that 'are was like runnin' through the
drops in a thunder-shower. He got chased by the
for 'em. Arter the war was over, Commodore
Tucker took over John Adams, our fust Minister to
England. A drefful smart man the Commodore was,
but he most like to 'a' ben took in this 'ere time I'm
a tellin' ye about, and all 'cause he was sort o' soft-hearted
to the women. Tom Toothacre told me the
story. Tom he was the one that got me the berth
on the ship. Ye see, I used to know Tom at Newport;
and once when he took sick there my mother
nussed him up, and that was why Tom was friends
with me and got me the berth, and kep' me warm in
it too. Tom he was one of your rael Maine boys,
that's hatched out, so to speak, in water like ducks.
He was born away down there on Harpswell P'int;
and they say, if ye throw one o' them Harpswell babies
into the sea, he'll take to it nateral, and swim like a
cork: ef they hit their heads agin a rock it only
dents the rock, but don't hurt the baby. Tom he
was a great character on the ship. He could see
further, and knew more 'bout wind and water, than
most folks: the officers took Tom's judgment, and
the men all went by his say. My mother she chalked
Tom.
“Wal, we wus a lyin' at Camden there, one arternoon,
goin' to sail for Boston that night. It was a
sort o' soft, pleasant arternoon, kind o' still, and
there wa'n't nothin' a goin' on but jest the hens a
craw-crawin', and a histin' up one foot, and holdin' it
a spell 'cause they didn't know when to set it down,
and the geese a sissin' and a pickin' at the grass. Ye
see, Camden wasn't nothin' of a place, — 'twas jest
as if somebody had emptied out a pocketful o' houses
and forgot 'em. There wer'n't nothin' a stirrin' or
goin' on; and so we was all took aback, when 'bout
four o'clock in the arternoon there come a boat
alongside, with a tall, elegant lady in it, all dressed in
deep mournin'. She rared up sort o' princess-like,
and come aboard our ship, and wanted to speak to
Cap'n Tucker. Where she come from, or what she
wanted, or where she was goin' to, we none on us
knew: she kep' her veil down so we couldn't get
sight o' her face. All was, she must see Cap'n
Tucker alone right away.
“Wal, Cap'n Tucker he was like the generality
man could do, but it was pretty easy for a woman to
come it over him. Ye see, cap'ns, they don't see
women as men do ashore. They don't have enough
of 'em to get tired on 'em; and every woman's an
angel to a sea-cap'n. Anyway, the cap'n he took
her into his cabin, and he sot her a chair, and was
her humble servant to command, and what would
she have of him? And we was all a winkin', and a
nudgin' each other, and a peekin' to see what was to
come o' it. And she see it; and so she asks, in a sort
o' princess' way, to speak to the cap'n alone; and so
the doors was shut, and we was left to our own ideas,
and a wonderin' what it was all to be about.
“Wal, you see, it come out arterwards all about
what went on; and things went this way. Jest as
soon as the doors was shut, and she was left alone
with the cap'n, she busted out a cryin' and a sobbin'
fit to break her heart.
“Wal, the cap'n he tried to comfort her up: but
no, she wouldn't be comforted, but went on a weepin'
and a wailin,' and a wringin' on her hands, till the
poor cap'n's heart was a'most broke; for the cap'n
couldn't bear to see a child or a woman in trouble
noways.
“`O cap'n!' said she, `I'm the most unfortunate
woman. I'm all alone in the world,' says she, `and
I don't know what'll become of me ef you don't
keep me,' says she.
“Wal, the cap'n thought it was time to run up his
colors; and so says he, `Ma'am, I'm a married man,
and love my wife,' says he, `and so I can feel for all
women in distress,' says he.
“Oh, well, then!' says she, `you can feel for me, and
know how to pity me. My dear husband's just died
suddenly when he was up the river. He was took
with the fever in the woods. I nussed him day and
night,' says she; `but he died there in a mis'able
little hut far from home and friends,' says she; `and
I've brought his body down with me, hopin' Providence
would open some way to get it back to our
home in Boston. And now, cap'n, you must help me.'
“Then the cap'n see what she was up to: and he
hated to do it, and tried to cut her off o' askin'; but
she wa'n't to be put off.
“`Now, cap'n,' says she, `ef you'll take me and
the body o' my husband on board to-night, I'd be
willin' to reward you to any amount. Money would
be no object to me,' says she.
“Wal, you see, the cap'n he kind o' hated to do it;
and he hemmed and hawed, and he tried to 'pologize.
He said 'twas a government vessel, and he didn't
know as he had a right to use it. He said sailors
was apt to be superstitious; and he didn't want 'em
to know as there was a corpse on board.
“`Wal,' says she, `why need they know?' For,
you see, she was up to every dodge; and she said
she'd come along with it at dusk, in a box, and have
it just carried to a state-room, and he needn't tell
nobody what it was.
“Wal, Cap'n Tucker he hung off; and he tried his
best to persuade her to have a funeral, all quiet,
there at Camden. He promised to get a minister,
and 'tend to it, and wait a day till it was all over,
and then take her on to Boston free gratis. But
'twas all no go. She wouldn't hear a word to 't.
And she reeled off the talk to him by the yard.
And, when talk failed, she took to her water-works
clean washed away, and he jest give up hook and
line; and so 'twas all settled and arranged, that,
when evening come, she was to be alongside with her
boat, and took aboard.
“When she come out o' the cap'n's room to go off,
I see Tom Toothacre a watchin' on her. He stood
there by the railin's a shavin' up a plug o' baccy to
put in his pipe. He didn't say a word; but he sort o'
took the measure o' that 'are woman with his eye,
and kept a follerin' on her.
“She had a fine sort o' lively look, carried her
head up and shoulders back, and stepped as if she
had steel springs in her heels.
“`Wal, Tom, what do ye say to her?' says Ben
Bowdin.
“`I don't say nothin',' says Tom, and he lit his
pipe; 'tain't my busness,' says he.
“`Wal, what do you think?' says Ben. Tom gin
a hist to his trousers.
“`My thoughts is my own,' says he; `and I calculate
to keep 'em to myself,' says he. And then he
jest walked to the side of the vessel, and watched the
look in Tom's eye.
“Wal, the cap'n he was drefful sort o' oneasy
arter she was gone. He had a long talk in the cabin
with Mr. More, the fust officer; and there was a sort
o' stir aboard as if somethin' was a goin' to happen,
we couldn't jest say what it was.
“Sometimes it seems as if, when things is goin' to
happen, a body kind o' feels 'em comin' in the air.
We boys was all that way: o' course we didn't
know nothin' 'bout what the woman wanted, or what
she come for, or whether she was comin' agin; 'n
fact, we didn't know nothin' about it, and yet we sort
o' expected suthin' to come o' it; and suthin' did
come, sure enough.
“Come on night, jest at dusk, we see a boat comin'
alongside; and there, sure enough, was the lady in
it.
“`There, she's comin' agin,' says I to Tom Toothacre.
“`Yes, and brought her baggage with her,' says
Tom; and he p'inted down to a long, narrow pine
box that was in the boat beside her.
“Jest then the cap'n called on Mr. More, and he
called on Tom Toothacre; and among 'em they lowered
a tackle, and swung the box aboard, and put it
in the state-room right alongside the cap'n's cabin.
“The lady she thanked the cap'n and Mr.
More, and her voice was jest as sweet as any nightingale;
and she went into the state-room arter they
put the body in, and was gone ever so long with it.
The cap'n and Mr. More they stood a whisperin' to
each other, and every once in a while they'd kind o'
nod at the door where the lady was.
“Wal, by and by she come out with her han'kerchief
to her eyes, and come on deck, and begun talkin'
to the cap'n and Mr. More, and a wishin' all
kinds o' blessin's on their heads.
“Wal, Tom Toothacre didn't say a word, good or
bad; but he jest kep' a lookin' at her, watchin' her as
a cat watches a mouse. Finally we up sail, and started
with a fair breeze. The lady she kep' a walkin' up and
down, up and down, and every time she turned on
her heel, I saw Tom a lookin' arter her and kind o'
noddin' to himself.
“`What makes you look arter her so, Tom?' says
I to him.
“`'Cause I think she wants lookin' arter,' says
Tom. `What's more,' says he, `if the cap'n don't
look sharp arter her the devil 'll have us all afore
mornin.' I tell ye, Sam, there's mischief under them
petticuts.'
“`Why, what do ye think?' says I.
“`Think! I don't think, I knows! That 'are's
no gal, nor widder neither, if my name's Tom Toothacre!
Look at her walk; look at the way she turns
on her heel! I've been a watchin' on her. There
ain't no woman livin' with a step like that!' says he.
“`Wal, who should the critter be, then?' says I.
“`Wal,' says Tom, `ef that 'are ain't a British
naval officer, I lose my bet. I've been used to the
ways on 'em, and I knows their build and their step.'
“`And what do you suppose she's got in that long
box?' says I.
“`What has she got?' says Tom. `Wal, folks
might say none o' my bisness; but I s'pects it'll turn
out some o' my bisness, and yourn too, if he don't
look sharp arter it,' says Tom. `It's no good, that
'are box ain't.'
“`Why don't you speak to Mr. More?' says I.
“`Wal, you see she's a chipperin' round and a makin'
herself agreeable to both on 'em, you see; she
don't mean to give nobody any chance for a talk with
'em; but I've got my eye on her, for all that. You
see I hain't no sort o' disposition to sarve out a
time on one o' them British prison-ships,' says Tom
Toothacre. `It might be almighty handy for them
British to have “The Brilliant” for a coast-vessel,'
says he; `but, ye see, it can't be spared jest yet.
So, madam,' says he, `I've got my eye on you.'
“Wal, Tom was as good as his word; for when Mr.
More came towards him at the wheel, Tom he up
and says to him, `Mr. More,' says he, `that 'are big
box in the state-room yonder wants lookin' into.'
“Tom was a sort o' privileged character, and had
a way o' speakin' up that the officers took in good
part, 'cause they knew he was a fust-rate hand.
“Wal, Mr. More he looks mysterious; and says he,
Tom, do the boys know what's in that 'are box?'
“`I bet they don't,' says Tom. `If they had, you
wouldn't a got 'em to help it aboard.'
“`Wal, you see, poor woman,' says Mr. More to
Tom, `she was so distressed. She wanted to get
other way, and so the cap'n let it come aboard.
He didn't want the boys to suspect what it really
was.'
“`Husband's body be hanged!' said Tom. `Guess
that 'are corpse ain't so dead but what there'll be a
resurrection afore mornin', if it ain't looked arter,'
says he.
“`Why, what do you mean, Tom?' said Mr.
More, all in a blue maze.
“`I mean, that 'are gal that's ben a switchin' her
petticuts up and down our deck ain't no gal at all.
That are's a British officer, Mr. More. You give my
duty to the cap'n, and tell him to look into his widder's
bandbox, and see what he'll find there.'
“Wal, the mate he went and had a talk with the
cap'n; and they 'greed between 'em that Mr. More
was to hold her in talk while the cap'n went and
took observations in the state-room.
“So, down the cap'n goes into the state-room to
give a look at the box. Wal, he finds the state-room
door all locked to be sure, and my lady had the
key in her pocket; but then the cap'n he had a master
quite softly, and begins to take observations.
“Sure enough, he finds that the screws had been
drawed from the top o' the box, showin' that the
widder had been a tinkerin' on't when they thought
she was a cryin' over it; and then, lookin' close, he
sees a bit o' twine goin' from a crack in the box out
o' the winder, and up on deck.
“Wal, the cap'n he kind o' got in the sperit o' the
thing; and he thought he'd jest let the widder play
her play out, and see what it would come to. So he
jest calls Tom Toothacre down to him and whispered
to him. `Tom,' says he, `you jest crawl under
the berth in that 'are state-room, and watch that
'are box.' And Tom said he would.
“So Tom creeps under the berth, and lies there
still as a mouse; and the cap'n he slips out and turns
the key in the door, so that when madam comes
down she shouldn't s'pect nothin'.
“Putty soon, sure enough, Tom heard the lock
rattle, and the young widder come in; and then he
heard a bit o' conversation between her and the
corpse.
“`What time is it?' come in a kind o' hoarse
whisper out o' the box.
“`Well, 'bout nine o'clock,' says she.
“`How long afore you'll let me out?' says he.
“`Oh! you must have patience,' says she, `till
they're all gone off to sleep; when there ain't but
one man up. I can knock him down,' says she, `and
then I'll pull the string for you.'
“`The devil you will, ma'am!' says Tom to himself,
under the berth.
“`Well, it's darned close here,' says the fellow in
the box. He didn't say darned, boys; but he said
a wickeder word that I can't repeat, noways,” said
Sam, in a parenthesis: “these 'ere British officers
was drefful swearin' critters.
“`You must have patience a while longer,' says
the lady, `till I pull the string.' Tom Toothacre lay
there on his back a laughin'.
“`Is every thing goin' on right?' says the man in
the box.
“`All straight,' says she: `there don't none of 'em
suspect.'
“`You bet,' says Tom Toothacre, under the
“And gin him a regular bear's hug.”—Page 99.
[Description: 703EAF. Illustration page. Image of a man standing behind another man with his arms wrapped around him. The man in front is wearing a military uniform.]
the critter by the feet as she was a standin' there,
but somehow thought it would be better fun to see
the thing through 'cording as they'd planned it.
“Wal, then she went off switchin' and mincin' up
to the deck agin, and a flirtin' with the cap'n; for
you see 'twas 'greed to let 'em play their play out.
“Wal, Tom he lay there a waitin'; and he waited
and waited and waited, till he 'most got asleep; but
finally he heard a stirrin' in the box, as if the fellah
was a gettin' up. Tom he jest crawled out still and
kerful, and stood up tight agin the wall. Putty
soon he hears a grunt, and he sees the top o' the box
a risin' up, and a man jest gettin' out on't mighty
still.
“Wal, Tom he waited till he got fairly out on to
the floor, and had his hand on the lock o' the door,
when he jumps on him, and puts both arms round
him, and gin him a regular bear's hug.
“`Why, what's this?' says the man.
“`Guess ye'll find out, darn ye,' says Tom Toothacre.
`So, ye wanted our ship, did ye? Wal, ye
jest can't have our ship,' says Tom, says he; and I
for Tom was strong as a giant.
“The fust thing they saw was Mr. More hed got
the widder by both arms, and was tying on 'em behind
her. `Ye see, madam, your game's up,' says
Mr. More, `but we'll give ye a free passage to Boston,
tho',' says he: `we wanted a couple o' prisoners
about these days, and you'll do nicely.'
“The fellers they was putty chopfallen, to be
sure, and the one in women's clothes 'specially:
'cause when he was found out, he felt foolish enough
in his petticuts; but they was both took to Boston,
and given over as prisoners.
“Ye see, come to look into matters, they found
these two young fellows, British officers, had formed
a regular plot to take Cap'n Tucker's vessel, and run
it into Halifax; and ye see, Cap'n Tucker he was so
sort o' spry, and knew all the Maine coast so well,
and was so 'cute at dodgin' in and out all them little
bays and creeks and places all 'long shore, that he
made the British considerable trouble, 'cause wherever
they didn't want him, that's where he was sure
to be.
“So they'd hatched up this 'ere plan. There was
one or two British sailors had been and shipped
aboard `The Brilliant' a week or two aforehand, and
'twas suspected they was to have helped in the plot
if things had gone as they laid out; but I tell you,
when the fellows see which way the cat jumped,
they took pretty good care to say that they hadn't
nothin' to do with it. Oh, no, by no manner o'
means! Wal, o' course, ye know, it couldn't be
proved on 'em, and so we let it go.
“But I tell you, Cap'n Tucker he felt pretty
cheap about his widder. The worst on't was, they
do say Ma'am Tucker got hold of it; and you might
know if a woman got hold of a thing like that she'd
use it as handy as a cat would her claws. The women
they can't no more help hittin' a fellow a clip
and a rap when they've fairly got him, than a cat
when she's ketched a mouse; and so I shouldn't
wonder if the Commodore heard something about
his widder every time he went home from his v'yages
the longest day he had to live. I don't know
nothin' 'bout it, ye know: I only kind o' jedge by
what looks, as human natur' goes.
“But, Lordy massy! boys, 't wa'n't nothin' to be
'shamed of in the cap'n. Folks 'll have to answer for
wus things at the last day than tryin' to do a kindness
to a poor widder, now, I tell you. It's better to
be took in doin' a good thing, than never try to do
good; and it's my settled opinion,” said Sam, taking
up his mug of cider and caressing it tenderly,
“it's my humble opinion, that the best sort o' folks is
the easiest took in, 'specially by the women. I
reely don't think I should a done a bit better myself.”
| Sam Lawson's Oldtown fireside stories | |