Oldtown Fireside Stories Part 7
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"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' hoa.r.s.e whisper out o' the box.
"'Well, 'bout nine o'clock,' says she.
"'How long afore you'll let me out?' says he.
"'Oh I 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 berth; and he said he had the greatest mind to catch 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 Tooth-acre. 'So, ye wanted our s.h.i.+p, did ye? Wal, ye jest can't have our s.h.i.+p,' says Tom, says he; and I tell you he jest run that 'are fellow up stairs lickety-split, 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 pa.s.sage 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 sh.o.r.e, 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 s.h.i.+pped aboard 'The Brilliant' a week or two aforehand, and 'twas suspected they was to have helped in the plot if thngs 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'y-ages 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 ma.s.sy! 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."
[Ill.u.s.tration: Tailpiece, Page 102]
[Ill.u.s.tration: Captain Kidd's Money, Page 108]
CAPTAIN KIDD'S MONEY.
One of our most favorite legendary resorts was the old barn. Sam Lawson preferred it on many accounts. It was quiet and retired, that is to say, at such distance from his own house, that he could not hear if Hepsy called ever so loudly, and farther off than it would be convenient for that industrious and painstaking woman to follow him. Then there was the soft fragrant cus.h.i.+on of hay, on which his length of limb could be easily bestowed. Our barn had an upper loft with a swinging outer door that commanded a view of the old mill, the waterfall, and the distant windings of the river, with its gra.s.sy green banks, its graceful elm draperies, and its white flocks of water-lilies; and then on this Sat.u.r.day afternoon we had Sam all to ourselves. It was a drowsy, dreamy October day, when the hens were lazily "craw, crawing," in a soft, conversational undertone with each other, as they scratched and picked the hay-seed under the barn windows. Below in the barn black Caesar sat quietly hatch.e.l.ling flax, sometimes gurgling and giggling to himself with an overflow of that interior jollity with which he seemed to be always full. The African in New England was a curious contrast to everybody around him in the joy and satisfaction that he seemed to feel in the mere fact of being alive. Every white person was glad or sorry for some appreciable cause in the past, present, or future, which was capable of being definitely stated; but black Caesar was in an eternal giggle and frizzle and simmer of enjoyment for which he could give no earthly reason: he was an "embodied joy," like Sh.e.l.ley's skylark.
"Jest hear him," said Sam Lawson, looking pensively over the hay-mow, and strewing hayseed down on his wool. "How that 'are critter seems to tickle and laugh all the while 'bout nothin'. Lordy ma.s.sy! he don't seem never to consider that 'this life's a dream, an empty show.'"
"Look here, Sam," we broke in, anxious to cut short a threatened stream of morality, "you promised to tell us about Capt. Kidd, and how you dug for his money."
"Did I, now? Wal, boys, that 'are history o' Kidd's is a warnin' to fellers. Why, Kidd had pious parents and Bible and sanctuary privileges when he was a boy, and yet come to be hanged. It's all in this 'ere song I'm a goin' to sing ye. Lordy ma.s.sy! I wish I had my ba.s.s-viol now.--Caesar," he said, calling down from his perch, "can't you strike the pitch o' 'Cap'n Kidd,' on your fiddle?"
Caesar's fiddle was never far from him. It was, in fact, tucked away in a nice little nook just over the manger; and he often caught an interval from his work to sc.r.a.pe a dancing-tune on it, keeping time with his heels, to our great delight.
A most wailing minor-keyed tune was doled forth, which seemed quite refres.h.i.+ng to Sam's pathetic vein, as he sang in his most lugubrious tones,--
"'My name was Robert Kidd As I sailed, as I sailed, My name was Robert Kidd; G.o.d's laws I did forbid, And so wickedly I did, As I sailed, as I sailed.'
"Now ye see, boys, he's a goin' to tell how he abused his religious privileges; just hear now:--
"'My father taught me well, As I sailed, as I sailed; My father taught me well To shun the gates of h.e.l.l, But yet I did rebel, As I sailed, as I sailed.
"'He put a Bible in my hand, As I sailed, as I sailed; He put a Bible in my hand, And I sunk it in the sand Before I left the strand, As I sailed, as I sailed.'
"Did ye ever hear o' such a hardened, contrary critter, boys? It's awful to think on. Wal, ye see that 'are's the way fellers allers begin the ways o' sin, by turnin' their backs on the Bible and the advice o' pious parents. Now hear what he come to:--
"'Then I murdered William More, As I sailed, as I sailed; I murdered William More, And left him in his gore, Not many leagues from sh.o.r.e, As I sailed, as I sailed.
"'To execution dock I must go, I must go.
To execution dock, While thousands round me flock, To see me on the block, I must go, I must go.'
"There was a good deal more on't," said Sam, pausing, "but I don't seem to remember it; but it's real solemn and affectin'."
"Who was Capt. Kidd, Sam?" said I.
"Wal, he was an officer in the British navy, and he got to bein' a pirate: used to take s.h.i.+ps and sink 'em, and murder the folks; and so they say he got no end o' money,--gold and silver and precious stones, as many as the wise men in the East. But ye see, what good did it all do him? He couldn't use it, and dar'sn't keep it; so he used to bury it in spots round here and there in the awfullest heathen way ye ever heard of. Why, they say he allers used to kill one or two men or women or children of his prisoners, and bury with it, so that their sperits might keep watch on it ef anybody was to dig arter it. That 'are thing has been tried and tried and tried, but no man nor mother's son on 'em ever got a cent that dug. 'Twas tried here'n Oldtown; and they come pretty nigh gettin' on't, but it gin 'em the slip. Ye see, boys, _it's the Devil's money, and he holds a pretty tight grip on't_."
"Well, how was it about digging for it? Tell us, did _you_ do it? Were _you_ there? Did you see it? And why couldn't they get it?" we both asked eagerly and in one breath.
"Why, Lordy ma.s.sy! boys, your questions tumbles over each other thick as martins out o' a martin-box. Now, you jest be moderate and let alone, and I'll tell you all about it from the beginnin' to the end. I didn't railly have no hand in't, though I was know-in' to 't, as I be to most things that goes on round here; but my conscience wouldn't railly a let me start on no sich undertakin'.
"Wal, the one that fust sot the thing a goin' was old Mother Hok.u.m, that used to live up in that little tumble-down shed by the cranberry-pond up beyond the spring pastur'. They had a putty bad name, them Hok.u.ms. How they got a livin' n.o.body knew; for they didn't seem to pay no attention to raisin' nothin' but childun, but the duce knows, there was plenty o'
Oldtown Fireside Stories Part 7
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Oldtown Fireside Stories Part 7 summary
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