by Lillian Arnold Lopez
Chapter Four
In August, there was a house raisin' for Jake and Clarissa. He'd spent all his spare time clearin' his property of vines and undergrowth, and he'd cut down enough trees for a clearing to build on. They only wanted two rooms with a leanto kitchen for a start; they could build on later, as needed. Jake had helped out at a good many barn and house raisin's, so there were several townsmen willin' to help. Most of them knew how to put up a small house or barn. The town's few carpenters was kept busy with city folks wantin' country homes at the shore, and sea captains had houses built for their retirement years.
Early that mornin', Jake had lumber brought from the sawmill, and before the day was over, the frame was done and a good bit of the finishin'. They wasn't gettin' married right away, so Jake would work on the rest as he had time.
By suppertime, the men was pretty tired and hungry for the potluck supper the womenfolk prepared. They brought kettles of greens and beans, and Mama had killed a coupl'a roosters and stewed them in a big pot with dumplin's, she called "pot pie." Some brought bread and pies and cakes and donuts and they brewed lots of coffee. There was mushmelons and watermelons cooled in the spring, and the boys saved handfuls of the big watermelon seeds to slip between their fingers and "shoot" the girls. Everybody ate their full, and the womenfolk cleared up, while the men stretched out and smoked their corn cobs or chawed terbacker. The younguns got fruit jars and tried to catch the lightnin' bugs, and I helped Toddy get some to watch after dark.
Meely Moses' boy went home and got his fiddle, and even tho' Mr. Moses had been sawin' all day, he sure could "saw" that fiddle. The music was my favorite part of git togethers and corn huskin's. Molly and Bonnie Meehan's pop must'a been 'bout wore out from adzin' all day, but soons he heard a jig tune, he was on his feet. Everybody laughed and clapped, and said he sure had the gift of the Irish for dancin'. Mr. Moses knew quite a lot of new tunes; he'd been playin' for them young city folks that was stayin' at the Inn, and he said long's anybody would play for them, they'd dance all night.
I wished that Serena could be here, but even if she hadn't left, her Granny, bein' Quaker, wouldn't of let her come. Her Granny was the same to music as Papa was to close dancin'.
Whenever there was young folks around 'bout to git married, they sang "When You Git Married," which was silly advice to them. They sang one verse to Jake:
"When you git married
you better be good;
hold up that lantern
while Clarissa chops wood."
And to Clarissa they sang:
"When you git married
and Jake gits cross;
pick up that rollin' pin
and show who's boss!"
Even the menfolk laughed; they sure got a kick out of plagin' the young folks.
Sometimes, Mr. Moses laid down the bow and picked the fiddle strings with his fingers. He was a good singer, too, leastways we thought so, and he made up ballads. He sang one about "The Seafaring Lad," who was lost at sea. Then he sang the one told the whole story 'bout Leed's devil that ended:
"So, little children
mind your folks,
don't go far from your door.
Leed's devil lurks
out there somewhere,
and may forevermore."
The little ones listened bug-eyed and edged closer to their mamas. When Toddy started noddin', I gathered him up and started for home -- listenin' to the music 'til I was out of earshot.
We was already startin' to get chilly nights, so we got extry bed kivers from the trunk and I was tryin' to fold 'em over the line to air the camphor out. Our Christmas goose kept nippin' at my heels.
"Shoo, Queenie." I tried to chase her away.
Better not let Mama hear me call her that; she'd forbid us to name anything we had to eat. If we made a pet of her, nobody would have a appetite for her, but the way she ruled the dooryard, callin' her "Queenie" jest come natural. We always raised a goose for Christmas. By Thanksgivin', we was killin' hogs and we mostly had fresh ham for that, but Christmas was speshul. The little ones got so excited 'bout Santy Claus comin' down the chimbley, with playtoys, and we all got oranges and candy and some doo-dad. And Mama made yum yum cake and pies and we had the goose. Mama saved the goose grease for chest colds; I sure hoped I wouldn't catch a cold 'til after Christmas. That old grease really stunk from last year.
Fall would be here before we knew it; with pickin' up hick'ry nuts, cranberries and apples, and there'd be Harvest Moon corn huskin' parties, with music and games and more good things to eat. And school. I really looked forward to goin' back to school. I was glad Papa hadn't said nothin' 'bout me quittin'; I knew he didn't believe girls needed too much ejucation. I'd been sellin' huckleberries to the Inn over the Summer, and saved my pennies to buy goods for a school dress. First off, I'd been savin' to send to Bambergers for a iron organ-grinder bank, like the picture in the New York newspaper. The organ-grinder had a monkey that tipped his hat when you put a penny in. I showed it to Mama, but she said I was too old for play-pretties, so I kept my pennies for my dress goods.
This year, school would be better. I'd be one of the "big girls", with them other ones thru'. We'd slip away over to the grove to eat Indian corn from the catalpa tree, and in the Winter, we'd slide on the icy pond. Thinkin' about it, I went inside and got the tin box down and counted out my pennies in little piles. I looked up, and there was Mama and Papa. I hadn't heard 'em come in.
"They got some new foulard prints in over to Jolly's; it's eight cents a yard, but real pretty," I told Mama. "Reckon how much I ought'a git for my new school dress?"
Mama looked at Papa. There was a funny look on her face. He looked back, and his look seemed to say, "Tell her, Katy."
Mama looked away from me. "You might not be goin' back to school."
"Mama, Papa, not go to school? Why, I'm barely thru' the fourth reader. I thought I'd be goin' this year, at least. Maybe start Toddy; he's nearly six. Please, I got my heart set on goin' to school." I was beggin'.
"It depends." Mama looked sad. "We're waitin' on word from Dr. Foxx over in Pemberton. He needs a girl to help with his younguns. One little girl's awful frail and ye're sech a good hand with little 'uns. He's considerin' your name; we have to be ready if he chooses you."
My disbelief must have shown on my face, for Mama went on.
"You know lots of girls go help out with big famblies. It wouldn't really be that bad; you'd have a nice house to live in and good victuals. Nex' Summer, when his big girl comes home from boardin' school for vacation, maybe you can come home."
I tried to appeal to Mama. "I don't care if we don't have much here; we're fambly. I don't want to leave you -- and Toddy would miss me. Let me go to school, please. I don't want to live with strangers."
I was wearin' Mama down, but Papa spoke up.
"Don't coddle the girl, Katy. If Foxx wants her, she'll go. He's payin' good money."
"Is that all you're thinkin' about, the money?" and grabbin' up a handful of the pennies, I flung them at him. Minute I did it, I knew I was in for it.
Papa's face clouded over. "Fetch me a switch!"
I run out the door, and I thought to keep on runnin', but I knew it would be harder on Mama. I had to come back sometime, and it would be worse. I might's well get my thrashin' over with. The first bush I come to in the little thicket by the tracks was a cherry. I knew a cherry switch really hurt, so I broke one from a sassyfrass and hoped he would think it was stout enough, and not use his leather belt instead. He didn't say a word when I handed it to him. I stood there while he brought it down again and again on my legs. I didn't cry. When he was done, he turned and headed for the barn. It sure smarted, but nobody would see me cry. I started runnin' out the door, down the railroad tracks. I stopped jest long enough to make sure I wasn't bein' follered. Then I turned down a woods path. I had to git away from that house! I follered the stream, wadin' in the cool water. It felt soothin' to my smartin' legs. Quite aways out, I sat on a mossy bank and let the tears flow, as much for my confused feelin's as for the sight of my striped legs. I tried to make sense out of all this. I knew Mama needed my help, but she couldn't cross Papa. He was the head of the house, but he'd never been so unkind. Why, I couldn't remember my last whippin'. Didn't he care anymore? I sat there lettin' the tears have their way, tryin' to think things out, when I heard a twig snap. Turnin', I saw Mama standin' there.
"I've been traipsin' all over the woods lookin' for you! You know what you did was wrong and your father would never contend with sech actions," she chastised me, "but I have to tell you, should'a before all this happened, 'cept I don't feel right talkin' 'bout Papa behind his back. As the head of this fambly, we have to respect him. Now I can't stay long, but I knew you was out here someplace. I was lookin' out the winda when you run off. If he gits back and finds me gone, he'll be madder'n a hornet. Even if you did provoke him, and you did you know, into givin' you that thrashin', lettin' your temper fly and sassin'. Still, he wouldn't of thrashed you that hard if he'd been hisself. And I think you ought'a know why I didn't oppose him puttin' your name in for that chile tendin' job."
"I'm tellin' you this but one time, so listen and remember. I can see how worried Papa is how we're all gonna git thru' nex' Winter. Soon's Jake gits his house done, him and Clarissa will be tyin' the knot, and that's how it should be; they got a right to their own life. But then we can't be countin' on his help. Toddy's little and Jenny and her baby needs takin' care of. Longs there's a chance Pete's alive, she'll never look at another man, and she ain't got nobody but us. Pete's Ma ain't well off, and she gits Jenny all upset the way she's give up hope of ever seein' Pete ag'in. Papa's got his doubts, too, if Pete will be back, but he keeps things to hisself. Even them awful spells with his hand hurtin', but I know when somethin's wrong and besides, I heard him talkin' out loud one night when he couldn't sleep 'bout fool boys joinin' 'fore they know what's it's all about. I hinted he should see a doctor, but he says he's had enough of hospitals for life." She stopped to catch her breath.
Grandpa had told me how Papa enlisted in the War of Rebellion when he'd jest turned eighteen, follerin' in his brother's footsteps. Shortly after, he was wounded by a Rebel explosion. When he got out of the hospital for that, it wasn't long 'fore he was caught in the burnin' tangled underbresh they called the Wilderness. For two days, he tried to git out; said he saw hundreds of men die in the fire, but he was saved to lay in the hospital for almos' a year. Mama had told me how he came home to find his older brother dead and leavin' her a widow with two small children, Jake and Jenny. He took care of them and later on, they got married, and me and Toddy come along.
"Now he fears he can't do for us," Mama went on, "so you see, child, in his own way, he's thinkin' of you bein' taken care of. They'd be nice to you, and we ain't signin' 'doption papers, or nothin'. You're old enough to understand life ain't all sunshine and roses. I was married not much older 'n you, so snap out of it; only makes a body more miser'ble to waller in self pity. Now gather yerself together, if ye're comin' back with me. You're gonna hafta' help me back over that footlog -- I had a awful time crossin' it to git here. Now, what are you titterin' 'bout? I declare, girl, I can't figger you out."
Only time would tell what the course of my life would be, but to picture Mama crossin' that slipp'ry log with leather soles was enough to make anybody laugh.
Like I said, Jenny missed Pete and worried about him, but she never gave up hope his ship would come sailing into Waretown Harbor one of these days, and they'd live happily ever after, like in the story books. I'll never forget the night he returned.
It was a Wensday; I remember 'cause it was meetin' night over at church and me and Mama usually went. Petey had been cross cuttin' his eye teeth, and Jenny had plans of rockin' him on the porch, where it was cool. Papa and Jake had promised Brother Tomas over at Law-Hill they'd fix his cider press. They had some Winesap apples ripe, and that left nobody to put Toddy down to bed. He'd been so rambunctious, we knew he'd be a pain in the neck in meetin', so I told Mama to go on.
I pulled out his trundle bed and put a light coverin' on him, but he wasn't sleepy a'tall. It was the time of evenin' jest right for shadder pictures on the wall, and Toddy was delighted with the rabbit I made, wigglin' his ears and nose and hoppin' along the wall. After a while, I started practicin' my big bad wolf, openin' and closin' his jawls. I must'a been gettin' pretty good, 'cause Toddy got scared and pulled on my dress. So, I thought, enough of that. If he gits nightmares, I'll be in dutch. I looked for his book, "Stories for Good Children," but he'd prob'ly hid it. He got more kick out of a nursery rhyme book put out by the Chicargo Corset Company. He already had it turned to the page where Little Miss Muffet broke her corset string -- and his mouth was spreadin' from ear to ear.
I figured he'd never git to sleep laughin' so I told him it was gettin' too dark to see to read anymore.
"Then, 'ponce a time'," he said, so I told him the fable how the hedgehog outfoxed the hare, and fin'ly his eyes closed. But I knew he liked to play possum and foller me downstairs, so I sat there awhile to make sure he was really slumberin'.
Tiptoein' past the hall winda, I thought I heard footsteps fall on the path below, and remember thinkin' Papa and Jake must'a come home. I went quietly down the steps and stood in the doorway to the porch. The light was so's I could jest about make out Jenny settin' in the rockin' chair holdin' the baby; she'd prob'ly dozed off. Papa and Jake must not of come home after all, less'en they went out to the barn. I couldn't see any signs of 'em, but was it my 'magination, or did I catch a flicker of movement at the end of the porch? Suddenly, a strange, scary feelin' went thru' me. I strained my eyes, but I couldn't tell if anything was there or not in the gatherin' dusk. The tickin' of the Banjo clock at the foot of the stairs that I never hardly noticed any other time got very loud. It seemed a lifetime when suddenly, the floor boards creaked. Jenny was rockin' and she lifted her head. I gulped.
"Was you 'sleep?" my voice came out squeaky.
"I don't think so -- jest in deep thought, but this poor little feller's knocked out."
Old dog Pharoh had come up on the porch and was layin' 'longside her chair. He woke up and started growlin'. Then my heart skipped a beat. A man strode across the porch to the rockin' chair. He dropped to his knees before Jenny, and I couldn't move, to save my soul. The baby sighed in his sleep and Old Pharoh waddled off and growled low. A voice from the end of the porch broke the silence.
"Pete, I know you've got other things on your mind 'sides your old buddy, but call off your watchdog, willya?"
"Oh, come on over here, Jarv, and you too, you old bag of bones," he said to Pharoh.
By then I found my tongue.
"Pete, is that really you? You know you scairt me half to death?"
"Can't see ya, but you must be Ara. It was a bit lighter when we come up and I could see it was Jen sittin' there, but couldn't tell if she was 'wake or not, and didn't want to scare the daylights out of 'er. sorry I scairt you. Now, be a good girl and git a lamp lit; got somebody I want you to meet. Where's the rest of the gang, anyway?"
I found matches and lit a couple lamps. Pete introduced his buddy, Jarvis, and they told us 'bout their walk home.
"Had to put in near Toms River, and was lucky 'nuff to git a ride to Murray Grove; had to walk the rest of the way. Walkin' wasn't so bad, but oh, them sketters sure convinced us we was back in Jersey."
Jenny laid the sleepin' Petey in his cradle and the lamp on the sideboard made his beautiful little face glow, his long lashes sweepin' his rosy cheeks.
Pete knelt 'longside watchin' as if he couldn't git enough and sayin', "It's like a dream come true."
Papa and Jake got home carryin' their lantern and a jug of sweet cider. They shook hands all around. I put cups aroun' the table for cider and Papa broke out the jug of applejack he'd been savin' and passed it aroun' to the menfolk. Pete axed Papa if they could put jarv up for the night, bein's he didn't know of any kin nearby.
"No trouble a'tall," Papa said. "Stay and welcome. Reckon we got a extry nail to hang ya on."
Mama got home and was so took back at seein' Pete, she had to set.
"Where you been?" Everybody laughed.
"You mean you never got none of my letters?" Pete remarked. "Well, I guess I never really s'posed you would. Fact is, there was a time I thought I'd never git to see any of you ag'in. Might's well start at the beginnin'. You know when I left I shipped to New York. That's where I met up with this sea dog and we've been together ever since. Found out he was from right around these parts, but he had been to sea for years. Guess that's why we never met up before. Well, we went North to Maine, and then on to Georgia and was paid off." Turnin' to Jenny he said, "I sent you a card from there. I thought we'd find a ship right back so we started lookin' 'round and there was this schunner we found curious. So we axed about it and was invited to come on board that evenin', said they was takin' on hands. We went back later and was swappin' yarns with the crew, and some other fellers had been axed on like us, and we was drinkin' a little grog when a cry went out. 'Nary a man goes over the rail tonight.' I turned to Jarv here. 'What in tarnations' goin' on?'"
"He shrugged 'Jest keep cool; mighten' be nothing.'"
"But then the captain and shippin' master come back out and they had cutlassses and pistols."
Jarvis took over the story.
"I remembered tales told me by some old sailors 'bout slavery expeditions where they was shanghied, but ain't no slavery 'lowed these days, leastways not in this country."
Pete continued. "We was throwed in the hold with three other fellers, who had come on board unexpectin' like us. Nex' thing we knew, we was to sea. Don't know how long we was out; lost all track of time. One, two of us always watched while the rest slept. We was given a cup of gruel mornin' and evenin' and hardtack, that's all. Sure missed my coffee. Then one evenin' we docked. By nex' mornin' the whole crew was captured and threw in the brig. We didn't even know where we was, 'til the guard said it was Liverpool. We was seperated from the main crew and questioned ever'day, but we didn't have no idea what they was fishin' for, and that was the truth. But they didn't b'lieve us. They hinted somethin' 'bout contraband, but didn't say what kind. We didn't even know what day it was -- or month, even. Like I said, I wrote some letters, but didn't really believe them blokes would mail 'em. We're still tryin' to figger out what it was we was supposed to know, but pretty soon we could see they was beginnin' to see we wasn't in cahoots with the crew a'tall. So they set us free on the grounds, said we was too young to hold. They'd took our money, and we'd left our extry clothes in Georgia. Don't s'pose we'll ever get 'em back -- the clothes, I mean, and Jarv's good spyglass. As for the money, we wasn't hangin' 'rouind for anything, once we was dismissed. Without a red cent in our pockets, we knew we was gonna have to work our way back, so we legged it down to the wharf. A few ships ready for passage was still lookin' for crews, caulkers in partic'lar, but neither of us wanted that job less'n there was nothin' else. We thought we might have to try, tho', when we found this bark; the cook and steward had just quit. I don't know much 'bout neither one, but Jarv knew a little 'bout both, so he gives me a look 'nuff to say 'let's bluff our way.' So that's what we done and we was hired."
"If the cap'n ever suspected, he didn't say nothin' 'cause we both kept busy with both jobs. I warshed plates and peeled 'taters and learn't to make quite a tasty salt pork stew and boiled dough. On Sundays they 'lowed us to use the tinned Argentina bully beef. We made a kind of 'sailor's hash' all the men thought smart of. There was 'bout twenty three of us in all aboard, so it kept us busy. But they had plenty of provisions, not like that last voyage. we even had coffee, but had to larn to drink it without milk, I'd say we sailed 'bout three months but soon's we got stateside we got here quick's we could."
He turned to face Jenny, who'd been standin' behind his chair, content to be close and jest listenin' to his voice.
I caught myself almost pinchin' myself to make sure I wasn't dreamin'. Now that Pete was home, I realized I'd had my doubts, too, and I guess I wasn't the only one by the way they was lookin' at each other, like they couldn't believe their eyes. Tears of joy in Jen's eyes sparkled in the lamplight, and time seemed to stand still. Finally, Pete spoke.
"No more sea for me," he vowed. "No siree! You're gonna have a time gittin' me to go out for a mess of fish."
"You're so right!" Jarv agreed. "You belong right here; you've got so much right here. Take me; I'll be lookin' for a ship to sail again soon. Twelve years at sea, nothin' like that's happen' to me before; ain't likely to ag'in. Sailin' since I was fifteen years old. Mom fought it, said I was too young. Now I'm older, I realize how she figgered she'd lost enough to the waters. Pop dyin' like he did on the coast of Virginia of the fevor that struck the whole crew. I was only eight at the time. Times was hard, but Mom raised me and Sis up by herself. we lived by the land, and what cash we had to have, we got by Mom takin' in 'suitcase washes' for folks stayin' at the Inn. I told her I'd git her money by sailin', but she didn't go along with that. To tell the truth, it wasn't the money I really cared about. When generations of your famblies been sailors, it's in your blood. Some of my kin was whalers and follered the whales in the inlet and found this place. Why, one of their harpoons they used hung on my Grandfather's wall. Several of my great uncles was sea captains, and a few even went down with their ships."
"Anyway, it was Mom's own cousin, Levi, who talked her into lettin' me go with him on a short voyage on Cap'n Quay's schunner by promisin' to look after me. I was young and smart alecky. Told her I'd be back 'fore her tear jug was half full. Well, one trip led to another, and three years ago, while I was out, she took sick sudden and died. Sis said she'd talked about me all the time."
Everybody fell silent. Then Pete surprised me by grabbin' my hands and holdin' me at arms length.
"Ara, little Ara -- but not so little anymore. You growed up while I wasn't lookin', and pretty, too."
"Yes," Jarvis said, "pretty like her sister. All Pete talked about and worried over -- his pretty Jenny. Lucky to have her waitin', too. Maybe that's what I need; a sweetheart waitin' for me nex' time I'm away."
He smiled and gave a big wink in my direction. I saw Jake catch it, and bein's he never missed a chance to plague me, I could feel my face gettin' hot. Jake's eyes sparkled with devilment.
"Well, well, little sister; guess there's hope yit for you to git a beau."
Everybody laughed, but I felt so foolish. I moved over to the daybed, out of the light where they couldn't see my flushed face. I caught Jarvis lookin' over at me ever' once in a while, and it thrilled me. I thought him handsome, too, with his shinin' dark eyes and crinkly smile, but I'd a sooner died than tell any of 'em.
They went on chewin' the rag, bringin' Pete up to date on fambly news. I got drowsy after awhile, but I didn't want to miss anything by goin' to bed, so I jest rested my eyes. I must'a dozed, for when I looked up ag'in, there was jest Papa and Jake and Jarvis settin' there at the table. I could hear music softly playin' and I could make out Jarvis with a mouth organ. I liked music so much, and we didn't often have it played in our house, so I willed myself to stay awake and listen. He played a hymn I knew from church; then he stopped for awhile and Papa spoke.
"I ain't heard playin' like that for a good many years. Us'ta be a feller in Barnegat could play one of them things, when I was jest little, hangin' onto my big brothers' shirttails. They took me to see this feller worked on the next farm, name of Larkin."
"Could that be Arkin? Aaron Arkin?"
"That sounds about right. Why, do you know him?"
"My Pa. Played better'n anybody I ever knew. Learnt me to play it when I was five. When they sent his things back from Virginny, this same mouth organ was in 'em. Mom give it to me, and I never go anywhere without it. There's plenty time to practice at sea. My Pa could make this thing cry like a baby. I've tried, but I ain't near's good as him," and Jarv played "Mam-ma, Mam-ma," and "What?" and "I want my Mam-ma."
"Hey, that sounds alright to me," Jake said, but he laughed it off and started playin' another tune.
My eyelids was gettin' so heavy, I started my way up to bed. Got to the stairs, when I heard one that I knew, "Beautiful Dreamer." I set me down on the step for jest one more tune.
For years, I was to get plagued, tho'. I never woke up when it happened, how when Jake started upstairs, he nearly tripped over me -- settin' there sound asleep.
And so now, dear reader, you have the story of how Ara met Jarvis. They must have married when my grandmother was in her mid-teens, for in the old family Bible there is entered a child born to them in 1891. They shared a life of joys and heartaches. Out of the nine children born to them, they raised a daughter and three sons, my father being the middle son.