Wintering Well

by Lea Wait

  “Which do you think they would want?” Will asked Cassie as he looked at the row of wooden animals he had carved since he’d been in Wiscasset. “Ethan loved the horses, but I think perhaps Anne would like a cat.”

  “And a dog for Fred. That one looks a little like George Washington.” Cassie pointed to the dog on the end of the line, his ears and head alert.

  “It does. Fred might like that one,” said Will, putting the cat and the dog in different pockets. “Dr. Theobold has helped us so much and has asked for such little payment. I hope he won’t mind my bringing the children small gifts.”

  “I am certain he will not,” assured Cassie. “I’ve taken food to them before. This is a hard time for the family. Can you imagine what it would have been like if Ma had been so sick?”

  Will shook his head. “Dr. Theobold does not seem able to heal his own wife.”

  “He bleeds her and gives her drinks to bring down the fever and quiet her cough, but she continues to weaken.”

  Anne and Fred Theobold were in their yard. Their roses still bloomed, but many blossoms were now hanging low with the heat and drought. George Washington, John Adams, and Thomas Jefferson were chasing sticks the children threw across the yard. All five ran to welcome Cassie and Will.

  “It’s a good thing I’m now sturdier on my leg,” said Will, grinning as John Adams jumped up and tried to lick his face. “Down, boy!” He turned to the children. “I’ve brought you each something. Which pocket do you think they are in?”

  “That one!” Both Anne and Fred answered, each pointing to different pockets.

  “You’re both right!” Will reached into his pockets and pulled out the cat and the dog, which he handed ceremoniously to the children. “The cat is for you, Anne, and the dog for Fred.”

  “Oh!” Anne gave Will a big hug. “She is cunning! Thank you! This is my favorite cat from now on.”

  “This is pretty nice, all right,” agreed Fred, looking his dog over. “Look, Pa,” he called as Dr. Theobold came out of his medical room and walked slowly toward them. “See what Will has given us!”

  The doctor took a good look, carefully examining both the dog and the cat. “I had forgotten your carving. These are well done, Will.”

  “Thank you, sir.”

  “You have great skill with your hands,” the doctor added, handing the small cat back to Anne. “Now, come with me so I can check that leg of yours.”

  “I’ve brought some cakes for the children,” said Cassie as Fred and Anne bounced up and down beside her, trying to lift the cloth covering her basket. “I’ll put them in the kitchen for you.”

  “Thank you, Cassie,” said Dr. Theobold.

  “Pa, can we have a cake?” pleaded Anne.

  “One each,” agreed the doctor. “Cassie, be sure to put the rest of the cakes above the counter in the kitchen. So that,” he said, looking at his children, “the dogs won’t be able to get them.”

  Cassie handed one cake each to Fred and Anne, and they all headed for the kitchen as Dr. Theobold and Will went into the medical room.

  The doctor’s room was cool. Will walked to the low table where the doctor usually examined him, and unfastened his trousers.

  “Your stump is doing well,” the doctor pronounced. “You must continue to use the willow water, though, to keep the swelling down in this heat.”

  “It has been rubbing more the past few days,” Will admitted.

  “Then, you may need to reduce the layers of cloth you have between your leg and the leather cup,” advised the doctor. “In summer the body swells, and you could blister your stump more quickly than you would think. I have had to cut wedding rings off women’s fingers that were so swollen with the heat that the ring became a tourniquet.” Dr. Theobold paused a moment. “Let me take a look at your hands.”

  Surprised, Will held them out. “There is nothing wrong with my hands, sir.”

  “Your hands are strong, Will.”

  “From farming. And whittling. And supporting myself on the crutch.”

  “You have skill with a knife. Not everyone can use a tool with the delicacy you used when you carved those animals. Have you ever thought of other uses for a knife?”

  Will shook his head.

  “Surgeons have to be good with their hands too. Do you mind the sight of blood”

  “No.” Blood was a common sight on a farm.

  “Have you ever thought of becoming a doctor?”

  Will looked around the room at all of the surgical instruments and bottles and dried herbs stored there. “You have to know a lot of things to be a doctor.”

  “True. But all professions require learning. The learning is just of different types.”

  Will thought of Paul studying Latin and Greek.

  “Does a doctor have to learn foreign reading?”

  “Most do. There are different ways of becoming a doctor. In Europe doctors like my father trained at universities and studied old medical texts in Greek and Latin and new ones in French and German and English. I grew up in this country, where there were few schools of medicine and no money in my family to send me abroad, so I apprenticed to my father, and he taught me what he knew. I also read the journals and books published every year telling of new developments and ideas in medicine.”

  “If I wanted to become a doctor, could I be an apprentice to you?”

  “That could be the beginning. That would tell you whether you wanted to continue. But there are new medical schools opening up here in the United States. The new State of Maine government is going to charter a series of medical lectures at Bowdoin next year. If you were interested in doctoring, you could apprentice with me, study with Reverend Packard as your friend Paul does, and plan to attend Bowdoin in a few years to earn a medical certificate.”

  Will shook his head. “That sounds like a lot of work.”

  “You would not have to do everything at once.”

  “I have never thought about being a doctor.” Will hesitated. “Would it matter that I have only one leg?”

  “Not for most doctoring. There might be a few patients whose homes you would have trouble getting to, or a few bones you might have trouble setting. But I think you could do it. If you had the interest. It takes caring about people and curiosity about what makes them sick and the strong wish to make them better. Sometimes you can save people’s lives.”

  “As you saved mine.”

  “Exactly.” The doctor sighed. “Of course, at other times, no matter what a doctor tries, nothing seems to make a difference.”

  Will thought of Mrs. Theobold lying in the next room.

  “If you are interested, perhaps one day you could come with me to see my patients. See what I do.”

  Will grinned. “I would like that, sir. I would like that fine.” Doctoring sounded more interesting than making watches or working in a store. Maybe Dr. Theobold was right. Maybe he had a surgeon’s hands. But he needed to find out about other possibilities before he made a commitment that would change his life.

  As he walked toward home, Will began to whistle. For the first time in many months he thought about where he was going, instead of how he would get there.

  “Dr. Theobold must have given you some good news, Will,” said Cassie as they neared Middle Street. “You seem happy.”

  “Perhaps,” agreed Will. “He has certainly given me ideas to think about.”

  CHAPTER 21

  July 11

  Today I woke before the others and, remembering the blueberries that would be ripening in the fields at home, felt restless. Afier leaving a note so Alice would not worry, I spent the early morning in the mists and dew north of town, hunting for berries. In another week or two there should be many, but I was able to return with sufficient fruit to make the season’s first blueberry cakes for us and for the Theobolds. It was a small gesture, but I felt I had done something of importance, as both households enjoyed the tartness of the small berries served with heated honey for sweetness. Mrs. Theo
bold seemed especially grateful and was able to eat several bites. I do not mind doing chores when their result makes life better for others. If what I do can make a difference, can improve someone else’s life, if only for a moment, then it is worth doing.

  Will woke to find Cassie had already risen. For a moment he thought he had slept long, but the low shadows on the wall told him the day was still new. He stretched and made a decision in the quiet of the room. This would be the day his courage would be strong enough. He looked carefully at the carvings he had left beside his bed in anticipation, and selected two: a strong standing moose, which he felt was one of his best, and the carving of Alice’s head, which Dr. Theobold and Mr. Dann had praised, and which he had been perfecting against this day. He dressed quickly, put the two figures in his pocket, and went downstairs.

  “Cassie must have woken before the dawn,” Alice said as she kneaded the day’s wheat bread. “There’s beef pie for your breakfast on the hearth. Aaron left early for the store this morning. A brig from Boston came in yesterday carrying many crates that needed unloading.”

  “Where is Cassie?” Will reached down and took the pie with him back to the table.

  “Blueberrying,” she said. “I suspect it’s early for berries, but perhaps she needed to walk alone for a time. Some days she’s more restless than you, Will. I remember when she was little, she would rather be playing outside, even in wintertime, than practicing her stitches by the hearth.”

  Will grinned. “Cassie can sew a straight line, but she’s not one for spending hours at the task, that’s for certain. She had better find a patient man for a husband.”

  “And what have you planned for the day?”

  “I will do some walking.” Will felt the carvings in his pocket and hoped he would not lose his nerve. “Dr. Theobold told me to keep moving, to get my body used to the leg and teach it how to walk with a smoother gait.”

  Alice covered the yellow bowl full of dough and put it near the window, where the sun would aid its rising. “If you find yourself near John Stacy’s store later this morning, I’d appreciate your stopping in to tell Aaron I could use some salt and another skein of that dark blue silk embroidery floss I’m using in my quilt patches. If he could bring them home tonight, it would be a help.”

  “I’ll tell him,” promised Will. “But you don’t have to wait for the end of the day. I will bring them home to you.

  “I would appreciate that. Now, I need to press two of Aaron’s shirts before the heat of the day.” Alice put two heavy sadirons and one box iron on the hearth close to the fire to heat them. “I fear this day will be a scorcher. A day to get difficult work done early. Don’t tire yourself in the sun, Will.”

  “I promise to rest when I need to.” Will finished his pie. “I plan to walk down by the wharves, where there might be a river breeze.”

  Alice nodded and turned to pump water to dampen the wrinkled shirts.

  The day was a clear one, and the wharves were already loud with the sounds of seamen’s voices intermingled with the creaking of ropes, the crashes of crates lifted into or off of vessels, and the squeaking of wheels as horses pulled wagons full of maritime supplies and cargoes up and down Water Street and onto one of the thirteen wharves that bordered Wiscasset to the east.

  Will had already noted the building where Captain Morgan’s office was located.

  This warm day the door to the office stood open. Will hesitated a moment before entering. Was he bold enough to ask? And the asking could be just the first step.

  He stepped carefully over the threshold. A young man not many years older than Will, but much more formally dressed, sat at a large pine desk near the door. “May I help you?” he asked, looking Will up and down.

  “I’d like to speak with Captain Morgan, please,” said Will firmly. “I have some business with him.”

  “The captain is over at Tinkham’s this morning, seeing about his new vessel. You might find him there. Or you could stop back this afternoon.”

  By afternoon he might have lost his courage. “I will seek him at the shipyard. Thank you.”

  Will continued down Water Street, forcing himself to stay calm. Tinkham’s Shipyard was near the end of the street, past three salt stores and around the bend. Dozens of men filled the yard, climbing over scaffolds and ramps, and carrying lumber toward one of three partially finished vessels. The sounds of hammers and saws and the ring of men’s voices filled the air.

  “Boy, can I help you?” Will looked up to see a tall man standing near him. “Don’t be getting too close to the site. Shipyards can be dangerous places. Just last week Josiah dropped a hammer from the deck of Captain Morgan’s vessel, and it narrowly missed Silas Chase. Could have made a fair hole in his skull.”

  “I am looking for Captain Morgan.”

  “Then, you had best be looking over there.” The man pointed to a small building on the west side of the yard. “Last I saw him, he was selecting brass fittings for his newest vessel. Did not look too happy about those offered, either. Captain Morgan is a hard man to please.”

  Will nodded. “Thank you, sir.” He walked toward the building, his steps less confident than before. Perhaps this was not the moment to approach Captain Morgan. Asking him at all was brazen. Coming to the shipyard was even more so. Perhaps he should wait, and meet the captain in his office at some later date.

  “Hey, Captain Morgan! This young man says he is here to see you!”

  The voice came from behind him as Will saw Captain Morgan emerge from the shed. He had no choice now.

  The captain watched him approach. “You’re looking for me, boy?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “About what? Do I know you?”

  “I am Will Ames. We met seven weeks ago at Mr. Dann’s cabinetmaking shop.”

  The captain hesitated a moment. “Indeed. I do remember. You were having some custom work done.”

  “Mr. Dann made me a new leg.”

  “Which seems to be working well. I hope the work he does for me will do as well. So, how can I help you, Will Ames?”

  Will paused a moment and then just said it right out. “Captain Morgan, your new vessel will be needing a figurehead. I would like to carve it for you.”

  Captain Morgan looked more amused than interested. “And have you carved many figureheads?”

  “No, sir. Yours would be the first. But I believe I can do it.”

  “What makes you think so?”

  Will reached into his pocket and took out two carvings. “I can carve, sir. I just have never carved anything the size of a figurehead. But during the past month I have been studying those on the vessels in the harbor and think I could do as well as many. Perhaps better.”

  The captain looked carefully at the carvings. “You can indeed carve. That is clear. The moose is well crafted, but far from the skill a figurehead would demand.” He handed the moose back to Will. “But this face … it has the look of a figurehead.”

  “I could do it. I’m sure I could.”

  “Carving a figurehead is a very special skill. I know no one in Maine who would attempt it. Figureheads on Maine vessels are carved by men in major cities. Some vessels sail with figureheads carved as far away as England or Spain.”

  Will stepped backward so he was not standing in the captain’s shadow. The sun on his face gave him courage. “I know it would not be easy. But I would like to try.”

  “How old are you, boy?”

  “Thirteen, sir.”

  “Well, you have more than your share of gumption.” Captain Morgan ran his fingers over the small carving. “And you have skill. But whether skill on a carving this small could be translated to a ten-foot figurehead, I do not know.”

  Will stood, hoping.

  “What I had in mind for a figurehead, you understand, is a representation of my daughter, Emily. Do you know Emily?”

  “I have seen her in church.”

  “No doubt. She’s a pious young woman, and very special to me,
especially since her mother died. I would like a figurehead to show her face, as you have done with this carving, and her hair, long, as though the wind were blowing it back onto the ship’s hull.” The captain looked at him closely. “I would like to find someone in Maine to carve her face. Someone who could see her and know her beauty.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “But carving a figurehead is an important responsibility. A figurehead incorporates the spirit of a ship. One with the wrong spirit could call up foul winds and bad luck. For me to take a chance on work done by an inexperienced boy could endanger the entire vessel and its crew.”

  “Captain Morgan, I want to carve your figurehead for you. I love to carve, and I think I could find your Emily in the wood.”

  “I like your spirit, Will Ames,” said Captain Morgan finally. “I have a proposition for you. You carve another figure like this one,” he said, handing the carving of Alice back to Will. “Make it larger. Not as big as a figurehead, but size enough to prove you can handle work on a larger scale. Perhaps—three feet high?”

  Will nodded.

  “Bring the carving to me before summer’s end. If I think you have the skill to carve the figurehead, I will give you the commission. The Wiscasset will not be ready to sail until spring, so you would have the winter to work on the figure. And Emily would be here to be your model.”

  “Thank you, sir! Thank you, Captain!” Will grabbed the captain’s hand and shook it hard. “I will do a good job for you! I promise!”

  “I have not yet given you the commission,” cautioned the captain. “But I will not commission anyone else to do a figurehead until the end of September. By then, if your large carving does not indicate as much skill as this smaller one, I will write to Boston to order one from a carver I know there. But I would like this vessel to be one truly from the State of Maine. And I would like to see Wiscasset boasting its own sculptor.”