Lion Ben of Elm Island

by Elijah Kellogg

  CHAPTER IV.

  BEN’S COURTSHIP.

  Ben had never been to sea with his father. Captain Rhines didn’tbelieve it was a good plan for relations to be shipmates; he didn’twant his son to be “ship’s cousin,” but to rise on his own merits, ashis father had done before him; and if he couldn’t do that, then hemight stay down. But Ben had proved himself to be a man of capacity.The owners were all willing, and his father wanted him to take the shipand let him stay at home.

  Ben gladly accepted the offer, and was making preparations to go; butthere was a matter of great importance for him to settle, before heleft home. Ben loved Sally Hadlock, though he had never dared to tellher of it.

  She had a great many admirers among the young men, and he felt that itwas risking altogether too much to go on a long voyage, and run theventure of Sally’s being snapped up by some of them before his return.The greatest source of apprehension in his mind was the fact, thathe heard she had said, she never could, nor would, marry a man thatfollowed the sea.

  Her father and oldest brother were lost at sea. Sally could neverforget the agony of her mother when her father’s sea chest came home,nor the trial of those bitter years, during which she and her motherhad struggled along, and kept the family together until the youngerchildren grew up.

  Sally Hadlock was a poor girl, but she was as pretty as a May morning.Though she knew scarcely a note of music, she could warble like a bird,and, as the neighbors said, “she was faculized.” Everybody loved andrespected Sally for her kindness to her mother, and because she wasas modest as she was beautiful, and as lively as a humming-bird. Hermother idolized her, as well she might.

  Never was the widow so happy as when, over a good cup of souchong, shedescanted upon the fine qualities of her daughter, utterly regardlessof Sally’s blushes, and whispered, “O, don’t, mother.” “Yes,” the oldlady would say, shoving her spectacles up on her cap, and stirringslowly her tea, “I’ll put my Sally, though I say it that shouldn’t sayit, for taking a fleece of wool as it comes from the sheep’s back, andmaking it into cloth, against any girl in the town; and then she alwayshas such good luck making soap, and such luck with her bread! she beatsme out and out in hot biscuit. You see this table-cloth; well, she spunthe flax, and bleached the thread, drew it into the loom, and wove it,all sole alone.”

  Sally was not without some dim perception of Ben’s attachment to her.She knew that he was very fond of her brother Sam; and that if hewanted to borrow anything they had, he would always come himself, bothto get it and to bring it home.

  When he came home from sea, he always brought presents for the widowHadlock. Many of them, though very beautiful, didn’t seem altogetheradapted to an old widow; and then her mother would say, “Sally, thesethings are very beautiful, but I shall never put off my mourning foryour dear father; they would be very becoming to you.”

  Ben went to singing-school, in the school-house. A young man hadrecently come into the village from Salem, as a singing-master. Hehad a way that took mightily with the girls. This excited a generalantipathy to him among all the young men in the place, who, since hisadvent, found themselves at a discount with the ladies. Latterly, hisattentions had been directed particularly to Sally Hadlock, as theprettiest girl in the village.

  The house being crowded one evening, Ben had gone into the seat usuallyreserved for the singers. The singing-master, who was an empty coxcomb,with nothing but good looks to recommend him, ordered him out. Ben,with his usual good nature, would have obeyed; but the tone was socontemptuous, and the place so public (probably Sally’s presence mighthave had something to do with it), that it stung; Ben replied that hesat very well, and remained as he was.

  This drew the eyes of all upon him, as expecting something interesting.In a few moments his tormentor returned, and assured him, if he didnot move, and that quick, he would be put out. Upon this, Ben rose upto his full height, and looking down upon the frightened man of music,said, “I don’t think there are men enough in this school-house to putme out.”

  This sally was received with a universal shout by the audience, whonot only had not the least doubt of the fact, but also rejoiced in thediscomfiture of the puppy.

  Sally was very much grieved at the master’s insulting treatment of Ben,who had done so much for her mother. It is said that all women arehero-worshippers.

  When she saw him so completely frightened out of his impertinence, andmade ridiculous, noticed the forbearance of Ben, who might have squathim up like a fly between his fingers and thumb, she became consciousof a tenderer feeling for her old schoolmate, who that night went homewith her and her mother for the first time.

  Ben now determined to make a bold push, and go and see Sally Sundaynight, though he knew she, and everybody else, would know what itmeant. It seems very singular that Ben Rhines, who had been half overthe world, and in a privateer, should be afraid to go over to thewidow Hadlock’s before dark; but he was: so he broke the matter to hismost intimate friend, Sam Johnson, who offered to go with him the nextSunday night.

  It was a pleasant Sabbath afternoon, in August, about four o’clock.Captain Rhines had been sitting in his arm-chair reading the Apocrypha,and fell asleep.

  Ben was sitting at the window, all dressed up, quite nervous, waitingfor Sam.

  Sam came at length, and asked Ben if he wanted to go into the pasturesand get a few blueberries. Ben assented, when, to their astonishment,old Captain Rhines roused up and inquired, “Where are you going, boys?”

  “We’re just going out to get a few blueberries.”

  “Well, I don’t care if I go, too.”

  Here was a dilemma; but love helps wit. They found a thick bush for theold gentleman to pick, crawled away on their hands and knees to a safedistance, then got on their feet, and ran for the widow Hadlock’s.

  The old captain having hallooed for them long after they were in thewidow’s parlor, finally went home. Just as they expected, they wereasked to stop to supper.

  After supper, Sally and her mother went out to milking, while Ben andSam leaned on the fence to look at them. The old speckled cow, whichSally had milked ever since she was a girl, acted as if bewitched: sheswitched Sally’s comb out of her head with her tail, and finally puther foot in the milk-pail.

  While all this was going on, Sam Johnson unaccountably disappeared. Bencould do no less than offer to carry in the milk for them; was invitedto spend the evening; and the old lady, excusing herself on account ofill health, slipped off to bed, and Ben and Sally were left together.

  In due time Ben asked Sally if she liked him well enough to marry him.

  Now Sally was a good, sensible New England girl: she didn’t faint norscream, but she blushed a little, and finally consented to marry him,on condition that he should give up going to sea, and stay at home withher.

  The reader must bear in mind that this is not a love scene of asensation novel, but conversation of people, who, loving each othersincerely, looked upon married life as a sacred obligation, in whichthey put their whole heart, and expected to find their sole happiness.

  Ben did not therefore reply that he loved Sally to distraction, thathe could not exist a moment without her, and that he would never dreamof going to sea again; but, after some considerable hesitation, he atlength moved his chair nearer to Sally, and looking up full in herface, said, “Sally, you and I have known each other from the time wemade bulrush caps together in your mother’s pasture, when we werechildren, till now; and I think you know me well enough to know that Iam a man of few words, and would never ask a woman to marry me unless Ireally loved her, and intended to support her, for you know that mustbe thought of.

  “As for going to sea, though I have been fortunate, and risen in myprofession faster than any young man in town, faster, perhaps, than Iought,--for I was mate of a ship before I was twenty,--though I have noreason to be afraid of men, and can handle the roughest of them likechildren, and care nothing for hardship, yet I never liked the sea. O,how I have longed, o
n some East India voyage, to see an acre of greengrass, or hear a robin sing! I don’t like to feel that people obey mejust because they are afraid of me, and to go stalking round the deckslike some of those giants we read of in the old story books. I do lovethe land better than the sea. I love the flowers; I love to plough andhoe; I love to see things grow. I’m as loath to go to sea as you can beto have me;” and he put his arm around her neck and kissed her; “butthe seaman’s life is my profession. I have spent many of the best yearsof my life, employed the time that might have been devoted to learninga trade, or some other business on shore, in fitting myself for it. Inow have a ship offered me: this affords me at once the opportunity ofreaping the fruits of my past labor, and supporting a wife; besides,Sally, we are both poor. You may think it strange, that, as I have beenofficer of a vessel for some time, I should not have laid up something;but my father became involved some years ago, and I felt it my duty tohelp him out; and I am neither sorry for it nor ashamed of it. Thiswas the reason I did not dress better, because I felt that I ought toeconomize, for the sake of the best parents ever a boy had. I supposemany people, who knew I was earning a good deal of money, thought I wasmean, or spent it in some bad way; and perhaps you did.”

  “No, Ben,” replied Sally; “I knew better than that. I knew that, ifyou didn’t, like a snail, put everything on your back, you were alwaysready to help any one who needed it; and no person can go on long in abad course without those who love them finding it out.”

  “You see how it is, Sally, if I take this ship, I am at once incircumstances to be married, with the prospect of a comfortable living.To be sure, I could work on the land, for I was a farmer till I wasseventeen; but then I should have to run in debt to buy it. There isnot much money to be got off a farm; it always took about what fatherearned to pay the hired help, the taxes, and family expenses, and hesoon had to go to sea again for more.”

  Poor Sally listened, as Ben thus placed before her the “inevitablelogic of facts.”

  She looked first this way, and then that, and finally laid her head onBen’s shoulder, and cried like a child.

  Ben was greatly distressed: he knew not what to say, and remainedfor a long time silent; at length he said, “There is a way that Ihave thought of, but I didn’t like to mention it, for fear--” Here hehesitated.

  “For fear of what?” cried Sally, lifting her head from his shoulder,and looking at him through her tears.

  “Why, for fear, if I should do it, and you should marry me on thestrength of it, and we should be poor, see hard times, and peopleshould look down on us, that then you might perhaps feel--” And here hestopped again.

  “Feel what?”

  “Why,” stammered Ben, finding he must out with it, “feel that if youhad only married some of these young men that I know have offeredthemselves to you, and that had rich fathers, instead of poor BenRhines, you wouldn’t have needed to have brought the water to wash yourhands.”

  “When I marry,” replied Sally, bluntly, “I shall not marry anybody’sfather, but the boy I love. Now, let’s hear your plan, Ben.”

  “You know,” he replied, more slowly than he had ever spoken before inhis whole life, “the island off in the bay that father has had the careof so many years?”

  “What, Elm Island?”

  “That’s it.”

  “Yes, indeed! I’ve been there a hundred times with our Sam and SethWarren, after berries.”

  “It’s the best land that ever lay out doors, covered with a heavygrowth of spruce and pine, fit for spars; many of them would runseventy feet without a limb. I think old Mr. Welch would sell it oncredit to any one he knew, and that anybody might cut off the timber,and have the land, and wood enough to burn, left clear. It would makea splendid farm, and a man might pick up considerable money by gunningand fishing; but,” said Ben, his countenance falling, “what a placefor a woman! No society, no neighbors, right among the breakers; andsometimes, in the winter, there’ll be a month nobody can get on noroff. It would be a good place to get a living, and lay up money; butno woman would go on there, and a man would be a brute to ask her. I’msorry I said anything about it.”

  “There’s one woman will go on there,” replied Sally, “and not repentof it after she gets there either; and that woman’s Sally Hadlock. Ihold that if a girl loves a man well enough to marry him, she’ll becontented where he is, and she won’t be contented where he isn’t. As tothe society, I had rather be alone with my husband than have all thesociety in the world without him. I had rather be on an island with myhusband, working hard, and carrying my share of the load, than to bein the best society, and have every comfort, and at the same time knowthat my husband is beating about at sea, in sickly climates, perhapsdying, with nobody to do for him, in order to support me in luxury andlaziness, or in circumstances of comfort which he cannot enjoy withme; and I say that any woman, that _is_ a woman, will say amen to it.We may have a hard scratch of it at first, and have to live rough; butI have always been poor; it’s nothing new to me. What reason on earthis there, bating sickness or death, why we should not get along? I’vealways maintained myself, and helped maintain my mother and family. Youhave maintained yourself, paid your father’s debts, and more too, foryou have helped my mother lots.”

  “Yes, but I was going to sea then,” put in Ben.

  “It is strange, then,” continued Sally, without heeding theinterruption, “that we two, who have supported ourselves and otherfolks, can’t support our own selves. I see how it is, Ben; this islandcan be bought very cheap, on account of the disadvantages of living onit; that you can pay for it by your own labor, and see no other way ofgetting your living on the land. Is that it, Ben?”

  “That is it.”

  “Well, then,” replied this noble New England girl, reddening to thevery roots of her hair, and her eyes flashing through her tears, “Iwill marry you, and go to that island with you; we will take the bitterwith the sweet; we will suffer and enjoy together. If you love me wellenough to give up a ship, and go on to that island to live with me,I love you well enough to go on it and be happy with you. I thank God,that if he has given me a handsome face, as they say, he has not givenme an empty head nor an idle hand to go with it. I have worked, andsaved, and denied myself for my mother and brothers, and have beenright happy and well thought of in doing it. I can do the same formy husband; and if any think _less_ of me on that account, I shan’thave them for next door neighbors to twit me of it. My home is in myhusband’s heart, and where his interest and duty lie.”

  Ben thought she never looked half so beautiful before, and imprinted afervent kiss upon the lips that had uttered such noble sentiments. Theday was breaking as they separated.