by Lea Wait
“I told you it wouldn’t be easy, Will,” Dr. Theobold said quietly.
Mr. Dann patted Will’s shoulder and added some more gauzy cotton to the padding of the leg’s bucket. Then he attached the moose leather harness that the saddler had made to hold the leg on.
Will had already given up thoughts of marching through the streets of Wiscasset today on his new leg. He was now wondering whether he would even be able to put it on and take it off by himself.
Maybe Cassie had been right; would he always need her assistance?
Just then the door opened. A big man, more elegantly dressed than most in Wiscasset, entered.
Will moved as quickly as he could to a space in back of the table. His face flushed. His body was exposed more than was seemly.
“Good afternoon, Captain Morgan,” said Mr. Dann, bowing slightly to the gentleman. “How may I help you this beautiful day?”
“I am here to see your work,” said the gentleman, examining the inlaid mahogany tables near the front of the store. “You may have heard I am having another vessel built, over to Tinkham’s Shipyard.”
“I had heard that, sir,” answered Mr. Dann.
Dr. Theobold helped Will move farther back into the shop and adjust his trousers.
“Dr. Theobold, are you here to purchase some furniture?” asked the captain.
“Not today,” he replied. “Mr. Dann was doing some custom work for Will Ames. I am here to advise them.”
“And how goes it?”
His body now covered, Will grinned and limped forward a step or two with his crutch to demonstrate his new leg. “It is not inlaid mahogany, but it is mighty good cabinetry, sir.”
Captain Morgan smiled. “I can see that.” He turned to Mr. Dann. “I, too, am here about some custom work. I have always had the captains quarters and figureheads for my vessels designed in Boston. But now that we are no longer part of Massachusetts, I would like to have the work on a State of Maine brig done here. Do you have the skills and time to take on such a project?”
“A figurehead, no,” replied Mr. Dann. “My skills are not in that sort of work. But the quarters I think I could do. If you give me measurements and some idea of what you would like, I could draw up some designs to see if they would suit you.”
“Excellent.”
Dr. Theobold took Will’s arm and helped him walk slowly toward the door. “We thank you, Joshua, for your time. Will and I will let you know how he is getting on.”
“You are quite welcome,” said Mr. Dann. “I look forward to seeing you both.” He turned toward his new customer. “If you have the time, Captain, perhaps we could go over those measurements now?”
As he walked slowly down the street, leaning on the doctor’s arm, Will asked, “What is a figurehead, Doctor?”
“It is a carving of a person or an animal, more than life-size, attached to a sailing vessel under the bowsprit. Sailors say it brings luck to a ship if the figurehead has the right spirit.”
Will’s mind filled with the idea of a carving larger than a person. “Are there many men who do such carvings?”
“Not in Maine. Figureheads you’ll see on vessels in our harbor have been done in Boston or Philadelphia, I believe,” answered the doctor. “But I am not an expert on such things. When you next see Mr. Dann, perhaps you could ask him.”
“I will,” said Will, hardly noticing the blisters that were beginning to form on his stump where it rubbed the new leg. “And I’ll look more closely at vessels when I am next down at the harbor.”
CHAPTER 18
June 2
After more than a week of practicing within the house, Will is now walking slowly back and forth on Middle Street. I accompanied him at first, but he was embarrassed to have a girl for assistance, even if the girl was his sister. In a town such things can be seen by the world. If we were back at the farm, I cannot think it would have been important to him. His new leg is paining him, and at night he bathes his stump in willow water to keep down the redness and swelling. The leather harness to hold the leg on functions rather like gallows—or as a gentleman would say, braces—do to keep up a pair of high stockings. But even though the harness is made of softened moose leather, it chafes Will’s waist and causes him much discomfort. He has tried wearing it both over and under his shirt, but either way is awkward. Sam came to see him this morning, and now his new friend, Paul, is here. It is good he has two friends who neither cater to him, nor ask him to do things that are impossible. I miss Mattie and Tempe and look forward to their letters. But they are too busy with cooking and cleaning and taking care of little brothers and sisters to write often. They say all is the same in Woolwich. I help Alice in the kitchen, but without seeds to plant and cows to milk and chickens to feed and butter to churn, there is less to do than on the farm. I had thought Will’s needs would fill my life, but he is determined they will not, so I must find other projects or people to fill my hours.
Will had been walking twenty minutes without a break. “I would like to rest awhile,” he admitted to Paul. “Could we sit on the steps for a few minutes? If you would like to go somewhere else, you know I would not mind.”
“I came to see you, not to test out the strength of your leg,” Paul answered easily as they sat on the top granite step outside the Deckers’ house.
“Wiscasset must seem very quiet for you after living in London.” Will reached into his trouser pocket and pulled out his carving of Alice and a small chisel.
“Quiet? Yes. But there are many things to do here, too. In London I was required to study most of the time, and wear elegant clothes and be polite all of the time. Here I go to school in the winter, but in summer I am free to fish or row or go swimming.” Paul looked at Will. “Perhaps you could swim without your leg. The hulk of an old frigate, the United States, has been stripped and left to rot on the mudflats near Payson’s Wharf. We boys dive off it. You might have trouble climbing onto the vessel. But I’ll wager you could swim!”
“I used to swim in a pond near the farm,” Will recalled. “The cool water felt mighty good after a hot summer’s day in the fields. But river water is salt, and colder, and the currents run stronger.”
“It is not as cold in places where the tide goes all the way out; the sun heats up the mudflats, and they warm the shallow water when it comes back on the tide. Someday I will show you.”
“You had lessons in London? Did you go to school, then?”
“Well, not school precisely. I had a tutor to help prepare me for Cambridge, the university my father attended. I have the same arrangement here, actually, only the tutor in London was devoted to just my cousins and me.”
“You have a tutor in Wiscasset?”
“Reverend Packard.”
“The minister?”
“He is a graduate of Bowdoin College and proud of it. In winter he teaches a few boys who are preparing for Bowdoin or for one of the other colleges. Only, no one mentions Harvard or Yale when he is around. For the reverend Bowdoin is the only school worth attending.”
“It is in Maine!”
“True. And well respected. Men come from all over New England to attend there. But it is not the only college in the States.”
“You are planning to go to college, hen?”
“My father wants me to become a lawyer. I don’t know what I want. But I have no great interest in the trades, or any talent at skilled labor such as Sam is learning. So I may as well study my Latin and Greek until I decide what is right for me. What will you do?”
“I was going to farm, until the accident.” Will’s voice was steady. As the months passed, it was easier to talk about it. “Pa said a cripple is of no use on a farm. He made me so angry; I wanted to prove to him I could farm. I thought perhaps I could with my new leg. But now I know he was right. I miss the smells of the fields, and the animals, and the sound of the wind through the wheat. But farming would be too difficult. How could I keep my balance while steadying a plow or chasing a hog? Now I’m co
nsidering other professions.”
“Certainly! Not everyone in the world works a farm!”
“But I would be bored staring through a glass at tiny clockworks all day, as Sam does. Being a mariner would offer the same challenges as being a farmer. A mariner must lift and carry and work quickly in emergencies. If I could see a point in learning your Latin and Greek, Isuppose I could do it. But all the books I want to read are in English!”
Paul grinned. “There are other books that are interesting. But the truth is that most can be read in English translations. And if you have no interest in becoming a professor or lawyer or doctor, there is no reason to spend your nights trying to read Greek letters by candlelight.”
“You do it.”
Paul shrugged. “Until I find something that suits me better, I do.” He looked down at the work in Wills hand. “That is a terribly good likeness of Alice. If I could whittle the way you can, why, I might decide to be a great sculptor instead!”
Will laughed. Carving was as much a part of him as his nose. He seldom thought about it. “I cannot see a sculptor making a living in Wiscasset. Even if I could be one!”
“Wiscasset is not the world.”
“Perhaps not, but it is plenty big for me. Come; I’m ready to take a few more circles around Middle Street.” Will righted himself, then tucked the wooden face back into his pocket, and he and Paul started down the street.
Just then the two boys Will had seen on his first day in Wiscasset rounded the corner. “Who are those two?” Will asked quietly. “I see them often in the streets, but they avoid me. Or laugh at me.”
“Davey and Thom Pendleton, from down on Washington Street. Their pa is a mariner and to sea much of the time. Watch out for both of them; they can be trouble.”
“Hey!” called out the taller of the boys. “Hey, Paul!”
“Davey,” acknowledged Paul.
“Who’s your hobbling friend?”
Will flushed.
Paul answered calmly. “This is Will Ames. He is staying with their sister and her husband for the summer.”
“We’ve been watching him limping along. We’ve been wagering as to when he will fall, haven’t we, Thom?”
“Figure he won’t make it to Main Street without leaning on someone’s arm. Why are you hanging around a cripple, Paul? Boys are playing ball up on the Green.”
Will stopped.
“I have no desire to play ball today.” Paul kept walking, indicating Will should do the same. “Some other time, perhaps.”
“We’ve been down to the pier for a swim. Guess that would be too far for your crippled friend to limp.”
“I can walk any place I choose to,” Will’s voice was louder than he thought it would be.
“Then, maybe one of these days we’ll be seeing you down at the pier,” Thom said as they came abreast of each other. Suddenly, without warning, he reached out and kicked Will’s good leg. Will crashed down in a heap, while Thom and Davey raced for the end of the street.
“Hey—stop!” Paul raced after them, but they were too fast. He turned and ran back to Will. “I told you those two were trouble. Are you all right?”
“My body is fine.” Will’s face was red with anger. “Give me a hand up?”
Paul reached down and helped Will to his feet.
“Where did you say this pier was—the place we’re going to swim? I had better start practicing.”
CHAPTER 19
June 26
Every day Will walks farther and more smoothly. His stump is now accustomed to pressure from the leg. I have made him two new pairs of drawers that do not get in the way of either his new leg or the harness. Over the leg he can wear trousers, as he used to, although he had new boots made to fit both his growing foot and his shorter wooden one. Wiscasset is beautiful in the summer. Afternoon sea breezes off the river keep the town cooler than our farm would be in June, but not chilly. Will has made a habit of walking down to the wharves in the afternoon and watching the vessels in the harbor. Mrs. Theobold’s rose garden has been blooming for a week now, and every time I see it, there are different blossoms. I have decided to make a patchwork quilt with a different rose on each patch. Alice thinks that a splendid idea and has agreed to help me find the right materials. She thinks the quilt is to be saved for use after my marriage someday. But I see no reason to wait to enjoy it. Tomorrow we are all going to take a holiday and pick strawberries north of Wiscasset. On the farm picking strawberries would be a chore, the first step toward preserving fruit for winter. Here jams and jellies are available at all times in the mercantile, and strawberry picking is seen as an excuse to be out of doors. On a farm there is no need for such excuses!
They left their beds as the sun was rising, while sea mists still covered the town. Alice prepared tea for herself and coffee for Cassie, Will, and Aaron, and cut chunks of bread and sage cheese for breakfast.
“I am longing for some sweetness,” she confided to Cassie. “Sometimes I get weary with eating fish and venison and beef. And the tart sweetness of fruit is so different from the sweetness of molasses or maple syrup.”
“Will there be enough strawberries so we can make jam for winter?” Cassie took a bite of the green cheese, relishing the fresh taste of the sage. It would be fun to make jam with Alice. They had done it many times in the past under Ma’s direction, but now they were sharing kitchen tasks like two women friends would.
“I hope so. I asked Aaron to gather all the tins and baskets he can find in the shed so we can load ourselves down with berries. And I saved a cone of sugar for making the jam.”
“Is the way long? I am concerned for Will.”
“He would be more upset if we were to go without him. The field is not far, but the land there is uneven. It will not be easy for him. And picking the berries may be even more difficult, since he cannot bend down easily.”
“He can sit on the ground and pick.”
“That is what I thought. And we will all be with him, should he need assistance.”
Will joined them, carrying two baskets. “Aaron said we were to carry baskets. Are these from the back hall what you want, Alice?”
“The very ones. Now, have some breakfast, and we’ll be off as soon as Aaron is ready.”
By six thirty they were organized, complete with baskets and buckets, and heading toward the field. “Please, could we stop for a moment to see the Theobolds’ roses?” Cassie asked.
Alice smiled. “Their home is not far off the way. You run ahead, and we will join you in a moment.” She shifted her baskets slightly to better balance herself. “We’ll take the back path past the old cemetery, up the Alna Road.”
Dr. Theobold and the children were in their yard. Despite the hour, Fred had already gathered a large bouquet of roses. “Oh,” Cassie said, “how beautiful.” Fred smiled and held them out for her to smell. “I think heaven must smell like roses.” She looked around. “Where is Mrs. Theobold?”
“Ma is not well again, Cassie,” said Fred. “That’s why we’re picking the roses. To take inside so she can have them near her bed.”
Cassie looked at the doctor in concern. “I had hoped she would be better by now!”
“I wish it were so, Cassie. Sometimes even a doctor cannot make things right.” He hesitated. “My dear wife is trying very hard, but she has never been strong. I am glad the roses can make her smile, even if she cannot walk to see them herself.”
“May I help in any way?”
He looked at the baskets she was carrying. “You look as though you’re on your way to a beautiful day strawberrying. Perhaps, if it is not too much trouble, you could take Fred and Anne with you?” His children wiggled in excitement. “I need to stay close to home, and the children should be out of doors, enjoying this fine June weather. Their mother would be pleased to know they were with you.”
“Then, they will come,” Cassie said. She turned to Fred and Anne. “Do you think you could find any baskets or buckets to put strawberries
in? You could pick some to bring back to your ma.”
“I’ll get baskets,” called Fred, running toward their barn.
Dr. Theobold suddenly looked tired. “Thank you and your family very much. A day outside town picking strawberries is just what the children need. And perhaps a day of quiet is what my wife and I need.”
Before Cassie could say anything more, Fred came running back, carrying an armload of baskets.
“We will be off, then,” said Cassie, herding the children toward the road, where the rest of the family was waiting for them. “I promise to bring them safely back to you, Dr. Theobold.”
He waved. “I have no doubt. If only the world were as simply planned. You are too young to know how difficult it can be.” He looked up and saw Will waiting for Cassie.
“But no. You do know how life can change in directions we do not wish.” The doctor sighed and went toward his house.
“Life can change, can’t it?” Cassie said to Fred and Anne. “But new roads can lead to exciting places too.”
“Like strawberry fields?” asked Anne.
“Exactly. Like strawberry fields.”
CHAPTER 20
July 6
Mrs. Theobold is now very poorly. Her cough is heavy, and her head pains her so she cannot raise it from her pillow. I helped the doctor bathe her body, which was damp with the heat of July and her fever, and then held the bowl for him while he bled her to try to reduce her fever and put her body back in balance. It seems logical that too much blood should cause someone to have fever and a fast pulse, and yet the cure does not seem to be helping Mrs. Theobold. Poor little Anne and Fred are very patient, but it is clear they do not understand why their mother is unable to play or make their supper. I left some chowder on the fire for them all, hoping Mrs. Theobold would be strong enough to take some. The doctor has asked me if I can come again when he has patients to see in the country, as he cannot take his children with him or leave them with his sick wife. Tomorrow Will is going to have the doctor check the skin on his stump to ensure it has not become too inflamed. I will go with him and perhaps take some cakes for the children.
