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 OF THE SAGE ENDOWMENT 
 FUND GIVEN IN 1891 BY 
 
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 ..The Merry Chanter. 
 
 3 1924 022 181 386 
 
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THE 
 
 MERRY CHANTER 
 
 BY 
 FRANK R. STOCKTON 
 
 AUTHOR OF "RUDDER GRANGE," "THE LADY, OR 
 THE TIGER f " THE LATE MRS. NULL," " THE CASTING 
 AWAY OF MRS. LECKS AND MRS. ALESHINE," ETC. 
 
 THE CENTURY CO. 
 
 NEW-YORK 
 
COprKiGHT, 1889, 1890 
 BY Feahk R. Stockton. 
 
 All rights reserved. 
 
 i,bm^ 
 
 7^ 
 
 ?i^ 
 
 TneDEViNNEPREsa. 
 
THE MEBBY CHANTER 
 
 MY CAREER IS ENDED 
 
 F 
 
 [OR two years Doris and I had been 
 engaged to be married. The first 
 of these years appeared to us about 
 as long as any oi-dinary year, but the 
 second seemed to stretch itself out 
 to the length of fifteen or even eight- 
 
 Il^SKfjfl een months. There had been many 
 
 i^ ^H delays and disappointments in that 
 
 W n year. 
 JW iH We were both young enough to 
 
 fa f"^ wait and both old enough to know 
 
 ^i V^ we ought to wait; and so we 
 
 ^'''S^^feB-:^^^ waited. But, as we frequently 
 . ™ ,, ,. admitted to ourselves, there was 
 
 Captain Timon Mucher. ' 
 
 nothing particularly jolly in this 
 condition of things. Every young man should, have 
 sufllcient respect for himself to make him hesitate 
 
2 THE MERBT CHANTEB. 
 
 before entering into a matrimonial alliance in which 
 he would have to be supported by his wife. This 
 would have been the case had Doris and I married 
 within those two years. 
 
 I am by profession an analyzer of lava. Having 
 been from my boyhood an enthusiastic student of 
 mineralogy and geology, I gradually became con- 
 vinced that there was no reason why precious metals 
 and precious stones should not be found at spots on 
 the earth where nature herself attended to the work- 
 ing of her own mines. That is to say that I can see 
 no reason why a volcano should not exist at a spot 
 where there were valuable mineral deposits; and this 
 being the case, there is no reason why those deposits 
 should not be thrown out during eruptions in a 
 melted form, or unmelted and mixed with the ordi- 
 nary lava. 
 
 Hoping to find proof of the correctness of my the- 
 ory, I have analyzed lava from a great many vol- 
 canoes. I have not been able to afford to travel 
 much, but specimens have been sent to me from va- 
 rious parts of the world. My attention was particu- 
 larly turned to extinct volcanoes ; for should I find 
 traces of precious deposits in the lava of one of these, 
 not only could its old lava beds be worked, but by 
 artificial means eruptions of a minor order might be 
 produced, and fresher and possibly richer material 
 might be thrown out. 
 
 But I had not yet received any specimen of lava 
 which encouraged me to begin workings in the vicin- 
 ity in which it was found. 
 
 My theories met with little favor from other scient- 
 
THE MERRY CHANTER. 3 
 
 ists, but this did not discourage me. Should Success 
 come it would be very great. 
 
 Doris had expectations which she sometimes 
 thought might reasonably be considered great ones, 
 but her actual income was small. She had now no 
 immediate family, and for some years lived with what 
 she called " law kin." She was of a most independent 
 turn of mind, and being of age could do what she 
 pleased with her own whenever it should come to her. 
 
 My own income was extremely limited, and what 
 my actual necessities allowed me to spare from it was 
 devoted to the collection of the specimens on the 
 study of which I based the hopes of my fortunes. 
 
 In regard to our future alliance, Doris depended 
 mainly upon her expectations, and she did not hesi- 
 tate, upon occasion, frankly and plainly to tell me 
 so. Naturally I objected to such dependence, and 
 anxiously looked forward to the day when a little, 
 lump of lava might open before nie a golden future 
 which I might honorably ask any woman to share. 
 But I do not believe that anything I said upon this 
 subject influenced the ideas of Doris. 
 
 The lady of my love was a handsome girl, quick and 
 active of mind and body, nearly always of a lively 
 mood, and sometimes decidedly gay. She had seen a 
 good deal of the world and the people in it, and was 
 " up," as she put it, in a great many things. More- 
 over, she declared that she had " a heart for any fate." 
 It has sometimes occurred to me that this remark 
 would better be deferred until the heart and the fate 
 had had an opportunity of becoming acquainted with 
 each other. 
 
4 THE MERBY CHANTER. 
 
 "We lived not far apart in a New England town, and 
 calling upon her one evening I was surprised to find 
 the lively Doris in tears. Her tears were not violent, 
 however, and she quickly dried them ; and, without 
 waiting for any inquiries on my part, she informed 
 me of the cause of her trouble. 
 
 " The Merry Chanter has come in," she said. 
 
 " Come in ! " I ejaculated. 
 
 " Yes," she answered, " and that is not the worst of 
 it ; it has been in a long time." 
 
 I knew all about the Merry Chanter. This was a 
 ship. It was her ship which was to come in. Years 
 ago this ship had been freighted with the ventures of 
 her family, and had sailed for far-off seas. The re- 
 sults of those ventures, together with the ship itself, 
 now belonged to Doris. They were her expectations, 
 
 " But why does this grieve you? " I asked. " Why 
 do you say that the coming of the ship, to which you 
 have been looking forward with so much ardor, is not 
 the worst of it?" 
 
 " Because it is n't," she answered. " The rest is a 
 great deal worse. The whole affair is a doleful fail- 
 ure. I had a letter to-day from Mooseley, a little town 
 on the sea-coast. The Merry Chanter came back 
 there three years ago with nothing in it. What has 
 become of what it carried out, or what it ought to 
 have brought back, nobody seems to know. The 
 captain and the crew left it the day after its arrival 
 at Mooseley. Why they went away, or what they 
 took with them, I have not heard, but a man named 
 Asa Cantling writes me that the Merry Chanter has 
 been lying at his wharf for three years; that he 
 
THE MEBBY CHANTER. 5 
 
 wants to be paid the wharfage that is due him ; and 
 that for a long time he has been trying to find out to 
 whom the ship belongs. At last he has discovered 
 that I am the sole owner, and he sends to me his bill 
 for wharfage, stating that he believes it now amounts 
 to more than the vessel is worth." 
 
 " Absurd ! " I cried. "Any vessel must be worth 
 more than its wharfage rates for throe years. , This 
 man must be imposing upon you." 
 
 Doris did not answer. She was looking drearily 
 out of the window at the moonlighted landscape. 
 Her heart and her fate had come together, and they 
 did not appear to suit each other. 
 
 I sat silent, also, reflecting. I looked at the bill 
 which she had handed to me, and then I reflected 
 again, gazing out of the window at the moonlighted 
 landscape. 
 
 It so happened that I then had on hand a sum of 
 money equal to the amount of this bill, which amount 
 was made up not only of wharfage rates, but of other 
 expenses connected with the long stay of the vessel 
 at Asa Cantling's wharf. 
 
 My little store of money was the result of months 
 of savings and a good deal of personal self-denial. 
 Every cent of it had its mission in one part of the 
 world or another. It was intended solely to carry on 
 the work of my life, my battle for fortune. It was to 
 show me, in a wider and more thorough manner than 
 had ever been possible before, what chance there was 
 for my finding the key which should unlock for me 
 the treasures in the store-house of the earth. 
 
 I thought for a few minutes longer, and then I said, 
 
6 THE MEEBY CHANTEB. 
 
 " Doris, if you should pay this bill and redeem the 
 vessel, what good would you gain ? " 
 
 She turned quickly towards me. " I should gain a 
 great deal of good," she said. " In the first place I 
 should be relieved of a soul-chilling debt. Is n't that 
 a good? And of a debt, too, which grows heavier 
 every day. Mr. Cautling writes that it will be diffi- 
 cult to sell the ship, for it is not the sort that the peo- 
 ple thereabout want. And if he breaks it up he will 
 not get half the amount of his bill. And so there it 
 must stay, piling wharfage on wharf'age, and all sorts 
 of other expenses on those that have gone before, 
 until I become the leading woman bankrupt of the 
 world." 
 
 " But if you paid the money and took the ship," I 
 asked, '' what would you do with it ? " 
 
 "I know exactly what I would do with it," said 
 Doris. " It is my inheritance, and I would take that 
 ship and make our fortunes. I would begin in a 
 humble way just as people begin in other businesses. 
 I would carry hay, codfish, ice, anything, from one 
 port to another. And when I had made a little 
 money in this way I would sail away to the Orient 
 and come back loaded with rich stuffs and spices." 
 
 "Did the people who sailed the ship before do that?" 
 I asked. 
 
 " I have not the slightest doubt of it," she answered ; 
 "and they ran away with the proceeds. I do not 
 know that you can feel as I do," she continued. " The 
 Merry Chanter is mine. It is my all. For years I 
 have looked forward to what it might bring me. It 
 has brought me nothing but a debt, but I feel that it 
 
THE MEBRT CBANTEB. 7 
 
 can be made to do better than that, and my soul is on 
 fire to make it do better." 
 
 It is not difficult to agree with a girl who looks as 
 this one looked and who speaks as this one spoke. 
 
 " Doris," I exclaimed, " if you go into that sort of 
 thing I go with you. I will set the Merry Chanter 
 free." 
 
 " How can you do it ? " she cried. 
 
 "Doris," I said, " hear me. Let us be cool and prac- 
 tical." 
 
 " I think neither of us is very cool," she said, " and 
 perhaps not very practical. But go on." 
 
 "I can pay this bill," I said, "but in doing it I 
 shall abandon all hope of continuing what I have 
 chosen as my life work; the career which I have 
 marked out for myself wiU be ended. Would you ad- 
 vise me to do this ? And if I did it would you marry 
 me now with nothing to rely upon but our little in- 
 comes and what we could make from your ship? 
 Now, do not be hasty. Think seriously, and tell me 
 what you would advise me to do." 
 
 She answered instantly, " Take me, and the Merry 
 Chanter." 
 
 I gave up my career. 
 
II 
 
 SHE IS HE, AND IT IS OUES 
 
 MAN and wife stood upon Asa 
 Cantling's wharf at Mooseley, gaz- 
 ing with wide-open eyes at the 
 Merry Chanter. All claims had been 
 paid. The receipt was in my 
 pocket. 
 
 " I wiU not look upon the ship," Doris had said, 
 " until it is truly ours ; until every taint of debt shall 
 have been wiped away." 
 
 How long, how high, how big it was ! It had two 
 towering masts. As I gazed upon it my heart swelled. 
 It was a career ! 
 
 Doris suddenly seized me by the hand. " Come," 
 she said, " there he is ! " 
 " Who ? " I exclaimed. 
 
 "The Merry Chanter himself !" she cried, running 
 with me towards the bow of the vessel, which on our 
 first approach had been concealed from us by a pile 
 of barrels. 
 
 We went upon the narrow space between the bar- 
 rels and the wharf and stood close to the Merrj' 
 Chanter, the wooden flgure-head, which gave the name 
 to the ship. 
 
THE MEBBT CHANTER. 9 
 
 He was a stalwart fellow eight feet high, and so 
 firmly fastened to the bow of the vessel that the waves 
 of the sea and the winds of the air had never been 
 able to move him. But long voyages in storms, in 
 glowing heat, or in icy spray had had an effect on his 
 physical organization. When young he had probably 
 been of pleasing colors, but now every trace of paint 
 had vanished ; even the mahogany brownness of his 
 nose and cheeks was probably due to the natural 
 hue of the wood of which his head was formed. 
 The rest of him was of a uniform weather-beaten 
 grayness. 
 
 The rest of him must be understood to mean what 
 remained of him ; the whole of his original self was 
 not there. His head was thrown back ; his long hair 
 hung upon his shoulders ; and his mouth was open, as 
 if in the act of trolling out some jolly sea song. His 
 right arm had been stretched out after the manner of 
 one who is moved by the spirit of the words he sings, 
 but the greater part of that arm was now gone. Some 
 wild, rollicking wave had rushed to meet him, taken 
 him by the hand, and gone off with his arm. 
 
 His other arm held a short cloak about him and 
 stUl remained entire, but he had no feet and one of 
 his knees had been knocked away, but still he stood 
 up, bold and stout, chanting his brave roundelays, 
 which one could hear only when waves were tossing 
 or winds roaring. What if his nose was split, his chin 
 dented, and his beard broken — the spirit of the Merry 
 Chanter was still there. 
 
 How many a wave crest must have swashed into 
 that open mouth as the chanter boldly chanted, and 
 
10 THE MERRY CHANTER. 
 
 the ship plunged! But how merrily he had risen, 
 all dripping, and had sang on ! 
 
 The eyes of Doris were glowing as she looked upon 
 him. " He shall lead us to fortune," she said, taking 
 my hand. " Shall he not ? " 
 
 The spirit of the chanter and of Doris was upon 
 me. " Indeed he shall ! " I answered, warmly. 
 
 Asa Cantling, or as he was called in the village, 
 Captain Asa, now came upon the wharf and asked us 
 if we would like to go on board. Like to ! Of course 
 we would ! To go on board was the dominant pur- 
 pose of our souls. 
 
 Captain Asa was an oldish man, but reaching up to 
 some iron bars which projected from the vessel he 
 clambered up her side with the monkey-like agility 
 which belongs to a sailor. In a few minutes he low- 
 ered a Jadder with a hand-rail, by which Doris and I 
 went on board. 
 
 " She 's a good schooner yet," said Captain Asa, 
 as with swelling hearts we stood upon our deck. 
 " She 's too big for us, but she 's got good timbers 
 in her ; an' if you '11 have her towed to New Bed- 
 ford, or Gloucester, or some such port, I don't doubt 
 you 'd get more for her than you 've paid." 
 
 I looked at Doris. Her eyes flashed, and her 
 nostrils dilated, but she made no answer to these 
 cold-blooded words. We walked the length of our 
 deck. How long it was ! Captain Asa pointed out 
 the various objects of interest as we passed them — 
 windlass, galley, capstan, wheel; all nautical, real, 
 and ours! 
 
 " I 've kept the hatches down," said Captain Asa, 
 
THE MEBBT CHANTER. 11 
 
 "skylights shut, an' everything stowed away ship- 
 shape. I 'd ask you to go below, but we must come 
 again for that." 
 
 Almost with one voice we besought the captain not 
 ;^o let us keep him a moment from his' dinner. We 
 would remain on board a little longer. We were not 
 ready for our dinner. We watched him as he went 
 down the ladder and into the village, and then we sat 
 down on a double-pointed log that was bolted to the 
 deck. The bulwarks were so high that we could not 
 be seen. 
 
 We did not sit long. Up sprang Doris. " Let us 
 go below ! " she cried. I followed her, and after enter- 
 ing the cook's galley by mistake, we found the door 
 at the head of the stairs which led below, and hurried 
 down. 
 
 The air below was close, and the ship's smells were 
 of an old and seasoned sort; but everything was ex- 
 citingly interesting. We ran from one end to the 
 other of this lower deck. We looked into what must 
 have been the captain's cabin. It was cozy to an 
 extreme that made Doris clap her hands. We looked 
 into the sailors' bunks. We looked at the great 
 masts which came from below and went up above — 
 our masts ! 
 
 We examined everything forward, amidships, and 
 aft, and then I lifted a hatch and we looked down 
 into the dark depths of the hold. We could not see 
 much and did not dare to descend without a light, 
 but the cool air which came up to us smelled as if all 
 the odors of Araby and the spicy East had been 
 tarred and salted and stowed away down there. 
 
12 THE MEBRY CHANTER. 
 
 When at last we ascended to the deck Doris stood 
 still and looked about her. Her face and eyes shone 
 with a happy glow. Stretching out her right arm she 
 exclaimed: "All haU to our Merry Chanter! "We 
 shall sail in him to the sunny seas of the south,, 
 and, if we feel like it, steer him into the frozen mys- 
 teries of the north. He shall give us fortune, and, 
 what is better still, we shall go with him wherever he 
 goes, getting all manner of fun and delight out of him 
 while he is lifting us to opulence. And now I think 
 it must be a good deal past our dinner-time, and we 'ii 
 better go and see about it." 
 
 As we walked through the village to the little hotel 
 where we had taken lodgings, two ideas revolved 
 themselves in my mind. The first of these I men- 
 tioned to my wife. 
 
 " Doris," said I, " as -we own a ship, and intend to 
 sail on it, we should be more nautical, at least in our 
 speech. You should not speak of a ship as 'he'; 
 ' she ' is the proper expression." 
 
 " I don't agree with you," said Doris. "I think it is 
 all nonsense calling ships 'she' without regard to 
 their real gender. It is all very well to call the Sarah 
 Penrose 'she,' or the Alice, or the Mary H.," — point- 
 ing to fishing vessels in the little harbor, — " but when 
 you speak of the Boyal George or the Emperor Will- 
 iam as 'she' it is silly and absurd. The Merry 
 Chanter is a man. He gave his manly name to our 
 ship. Our ship is not a female." 
 
 "But," said I, " every sailor calls his ship ' she.' It 
 is tradition, it is custom, in fact it has become law." 
 
 "It is aU stuff and nonsense," she said. "I don't 
 
THE MEBBY CEANTEB. 13 
 
 care a snap for such tradition and such law ! Sailors 
 ought to have learned better by this time." 
 
 " But you don't want to be laughed &i, do you ? " I 
 asked. 
 
 " No, I don't," she answered promptly. " We can- 
 not have proper authority in our ship if we are 
 laughed at, and I will do this : I will consent to call 
 the ship ' it,' but I will never consent to call it ' she.' " 
 
 And with these words we entered the hotel. 
 
 The other idea which entered my mind was a more 
 important one. I had noticed, especially when we 
 were on board the ship, that Doris was taking the lead 
 in everything. It was she who had declared what we 
 should do, where we should go, that one thing should 
 be done or another left undone. Now this was all 
 wrong. It was a blow at the just constitution of 
 matrimony. Of course, in these early days of our 
 married life I was glad to let my bride talk and plan 
 as she pleased ; but she was going too far. If this 
 thing were allowed to continue it would become a 
 habit. 
 
 What step I should take to nip in the bud this little 
 weed which might grow until it overshadowed our 
 happiness I could not immediately determine. It 
 must be a quick, vigorous, and decided step. It must 
 settle the matter once and for all time. Of course 
 I would be tender, but I must be firm. As soon as 
 possible I would decide what the step should be. 
 
 That afternoon we went to see Captain Asa to ask 
 him what sort of marine trafllc he thought we would 
 better begin with. 
 
 " You see," said Doris, " we want to engage in some 
 2 
 
14 THE MEBBY CHANTER. 
 
 coastwise trading, in order that our profits may en- 
 able us to set out upon longer and more important 
 voyages." 
 
 " That is the state of the case," said I. " My wife 
 agrees with me entirely." 
 
 " Now, what shall we load with first," said Doris, 
 "hay, fish, or ice?" 
 
 Captain Asa smiled. " As for fish," he said, " our 
 own boats bring in all the fish that can be turned into 
 money in this town, an' if we send away any they 've 
 got to get to market while they are fresh, an' it may 
 be the railroad 'U get 'em there quicker. An' as for 
 hay, we don't get much hay from along the coast — 
 that is, if we want the cattle to eat it. That gener- 
 ally comes from the West, by raU. Ice ? Well, this 
 is n't the season to ship ice." 
 
 " But there must be other things," said Doris, anx- 
 iously. 
 
 " Yes," said the captain, " there is. Now I 'U tell you 
 what would n't be a bad thing. Sail your vessel up 
 to Boston an' get a load of flour. You can afford to 
 bring it down cheaper than the railroad can. There 'd 
 be some took in this town. I 'd take a barrel. An' 
 a good deal might be sold along the coast if you put 
 it cheap enough. Then, again, when you get to Bos- 
 ton you may have the good luck to seU your vessel." 
 
 " The Merry Chanter is not to be sold," said Doris, 
 emphatically. 
 
 " All right," said the captain. " That point sha'n't 
 be touched upon ag'in. Well, if you 're goin' to set 
 out on trading v'yages, you '11 want a crew." 
 
 " Yes," said I, " of course we shall want a crew." 
 
THE MEBBY CHANIEE. 15 
 
 " A crew costs a good deal, does n't it?" asked Doris. 
 
 " That depends," said Captain Asa, " on the kind of 
 crew you get. Now an out-and-out crew for that 
 schooner — " 
 
 " But we don't want an out-and-out crew," inter- 
 rupted Doris; " and if you '11 teU us what such a crew 
 will cost it will simply drive us stark mad, and the 
 whole thing will come to an end." 
 
 " You must understand. Captain," I said, " that we 
 wish to make a very quiet and inexpensive beginning. 
 We can spend but little money at first, and cannot 
 afford to employ large bodies of men." 
 
 " It is the management of sails that occupies a good 
 deal of the time of a crew, is n't it?" asked Doris. 
 
 "Yes," answered the captain. "That 's a good 
 part of it." 
 
 " Well, then," continued Doris, " my idea is this : 
 we 'U sail the Merry Chanter at first with as few sails 
 as possible, and then we need only have enough men 
 to work those sails." 
 
 " All right i " said the captain. " Things can often 
 be done one way as well as another if you have a 
 mind to. There 's many a good ship been sailed 
 short-handed. You can't make quick voyages that 
 way; but as you are the owners, that's your busi- 
 ness." 
 
 We both agreed that we had no intention at pres- 
 ent of making the Merry Chanter a greyhound of the 
 sea: and, after some further consideration of the 
 subject, Captain Asa said he would talk to some peo- 
 ple in the town and see what he could do toward 
 getting us a crew of the sort we wanted. 
 
Ill 
 
 WE SHIP A CREW 
 
 ARLY the next morning an elderly 
 personage introduced himself as 
 Captain Timon Mucher. He was a 
 man of medium height, gray hws, 
 and a little bowed by years ; but he 
 had sharp bright eyes, and a general 
 air of being able to jump about a yard from th^ 
 floor. His storm-beaten features were infused with 
 a modest kindliness which instantly attracted Doris 
 and me. 
 
 " Cap'n Cantlin'," said he, " told me that you 're 
 lookin' for a crew for that schooner o' yourn. Now, 
 sir, if you 're agreeable, I 'd like to go in her as skip- 
 per. Everybody in this town knows what sort o' a 
 skipper I am, and they '11 tell you. I did think I 'd 
 about give up navigatin', but .when I heerd yesterday 
 that that schooner that 's been lying so long at Cant- 
 lin's wharf was goin' to sea, there come over me the 
 same kind of hanker for outside rollin' and pitchin' 
 that I used to have when I happened to be ashore 
 without a ship. I 've got a good cat-rigged fishin'- 
 boat and I go out in her every day that 's fit. And 
 there is times when I get a good deal of outside 
 pitchin' and rollin'. But pitchin' and rollin' in a cat- 
 
THE MEBRY CHANTEB. 17 
 
 boat is n't what a man that 's been brought up to the 
 sea lays awake more 'n half an hour and hankers for. 
 If there had n't been no schooner goin' to sail from 
 this port and wantin' hands I guess I 'd stuck pretty 
 quiet to the cat-boat ; but now there is a schooner 
 sailin' from here and wantin' hands I 'd like to go in 
 her as skipper." 
 
 Doris and I looked at each other, and then at the 
 old man. Instinctively we both stretched out our 
 hands to him. He was captain of the Merry Chanter. 
 
 It was plain enough that Captain Timon Mucher 
 was delighted with our decision. 
 
 "Well, now," said he, "it just tickles me to sail 
 with owners like you, who knows your own minds 
 and settles a bargain as quick as a squaU tips over a 
 sail-boat full of young fellers from town." 
 
 I did not like to break in on the old man's satisfac- 
 tion, but I felt bound to state that the bargain was 
 not yet completed. 
 
 " Bother bargains ! " said Doris. "We 're going to 
 have the captain anyway ! Did n't we say so ? " 
 
 " But it is possible," said I, " that he may expect 
 a — a salary larger than we can afford to pay." 
 
 "As to that," said Captain Timon, "ther6 need n't 
 be no words about that; I '11 go sheers With you, 
 if you Uke." 
 
 This was reasonable, and pleased the owners. We 
 were very willing to give him part of the profits. 
 
 "What share would you require?" I asked. 
 
 "Well," said he, "we can divide what we make 
 each v'yage into six parts, and I '11 take one of 'em. 
 Does that strike you as fair!" 
 
18 THE MEBBY CHANTER. 
 
 It struck us as quite fair. 
 
 We now had a long talk with our captain and got 
 all sorts of information. At length he left us; but 
 in about an hour he, with Captain Asa, came just as 
 we were about to start out for the wharf, and 
 brought with them three elderly men, evidently of 
 the seafaring class. These were presented to us as 
 Captaiu Retire Garnish, Captain Jabez Teel, and 
 Captain Cyrus Bodship. 
 
 The three stranger captains gravely came forward 
 and shook hands with us. As I have said, they were 
 all elderly men ; the youngest-looking of them, Cap- 
 tain Cyrus Bodship, must have been sixty. Strange 
 to say, my wife and I were both struck by a certain 
 similarity in these men, a sort of family likeness. 
 This must have been due to the fact, Doris after- 
 wards remarked, that they were all sons of Mother 
 Ocean, for, in fact, they were not at all aMke. Cap- 
 tain Grarnish was large and tall, Captain Teel was of 
 a sparish figure, while Captain Cyrus Bodship was 
 short, and inclined to be stout. 
 
 In one respect they were alike; each wore a very 
 large and stiffly starched shirt-bosom with a black 
 silk neckerchief, and each one looked uncomfortable 
 in his suit of Sunday clothes. In this respect Cap- 
 tain Cyrus Bodship had a slight advantage over his 
 companions, for he had on a pair of black velvet 
 slippers embroidered with red. 
 
 " These gentlemen," said Captain Asa, " would like 
 to ship as your crew." 
 
 Doris and I could not help smiling. " Crew ? " said 
 I. " I thought they were all captains." 
 
THE MEBET CHANTER. 19 
 
 " So they are, so they are/' said Captain Asa. " But 
 they can speak for themselves." 
 
 "We now all seated ourselves in the little parlor, 
 and Captain Garnish, without any hesitation, began 
 to speak for himself. 
 
 "As for me, I 'm a captain if ever anybody was 
 one. Since my thirty-second year I 've been skipper 
 on one craft or another till four years ago last April 
 I settled down here and took to fishin'. That 's my 
 history. When I heard that Cap'n Timon here was 
 goin' to be skipper of your schooner I says to myself : 
 ' I 'd like to sail with him. There ain't nothin' about 
 a ship I don't know, there ain't nothin' about a ship 
 I can't do. I 'd rather go to sea than fish, and I 'm 
 ready to sign the papers.'" 
 
 " All that 's about the same with me," said Captain 
 Jabez Teel; "only I did n't get to be captain till 
 I was thirty-eight, and I came here nigh on to five 
 years ago. Otherwise Cap'n Grarnish and me is in 
 the same boat, and I 'm ready to sign papers." 
 
 Captain Cyrus sat silent a moment with a jolly 
 sort of grin on his face. " I 've been tryin' to think 
 what year it was I was fust made captain, but it 's 
 too fur back; I can't put my finger on it. As for 
 other partic'lars I 'm pretty much in the wake of 
 Cap'n Garnish and Cap'n Teel here. Perhaps I 'm a 
 good ways astern, but I 'm younger than they is, and 
 may overhaul 'em yit. I 'm ready to sign papers." 
 
 The situation was interesting and amusing. " Do 
 you mean to say," I asked, " that you three will make 
 a sufficient crew for our vessel ? " 
 
 Captain Timon immediately spoke up. " Yes, sir. 
 
20 THE MEBMY CHANTER. 
 
 They are all the crew I want. With them three I '11 
 sail your schooner, and there won't be no complaint. 
 Yes, sir ; that 's what I say." 
 
 Engaging three old men as our crew seemed to us 
 a serious matter, and I asked Captain Asa to step with 
 me into a back room. Doris followed. 
 
 " Do you really think," I asked the captain, " that 
 these three men can work our ship ? " 
 
 " Of course they can do it," said he. " Each one of 
 'em is worth three ordinary seamen; they 've got 
 heads on 'em, they has! An' they 're as lively as 
 old cats, besides. Now there 's Cap'n Garnish. He 's 
 saUed vessels on every sea on this globe. He 's the 
 man that run his vessel — a three-masted schooner 
 she was — from the Straits of Malacca to Madras, 
 nigh on to fifteen hundred miles, on one tack with 
 a stifif nor'-easter, an' a hole in her starboard quarter 
 as big as that table. There wa' n't no time to have 
 his ship docked if he wanted to save his cargo, an' 
 a hole like that could n't be patched up by him 
 an' his crew. And so twenty minutes after he was 
 run into he set every inch of canvas there was a spar 
 for, an' drove her right slam across the Bay of Ben- 
 gal, with her lee scuppers mostly takin' in water, but 
 her weather-quarter with the hole in it high an dry. 
 When he came into port at Madras they would n't 
 believe that he 'd raced across the bay, with his ship 
 stove in like that." 
 
 Doris had listened with admiration. " But could he 
 do that now? " she asked. 
 
 " Do it ? " said Captain Asa. " Of course he could ! 
 He could do it with a hole twice as big! An' there 's 
 
THE MERBY CBANTER. 21 
 
 Cap*!! Teel," he continued. "He was friz up two 
 years in Melville Straits when he was commandin' of 
 a whaler; an', more 'n that, he has had his ships 
 wrecked under him eleven times, which is four more 
 than anybody in this State can say ; an' he an' his 
 crew came out all right every time, either trampin' 
 off on shore or bein' picked up. What he has n't been 
 through is n't worth goin' through ! 
 
 "An' there 's Cap'n Cyrus. Now Cap'n Cyrus is 
 the luckiest seaman that ever sat on a thwart. He 
 never had nothin' happen to him. He 'd always 
 run into his home port with the same old grin that 
 he set sail with. Once, bound to Australia, — I think 
 it was in '59, — he had his three top-gallant masts 
 blowed away by a typhoon. Now, Cap'n Cyrus said to 
 himself that he guessed he 'd got it this time, an' 
 that he 'd be long overdiie at port, for he did n't 
 carry no spare spars along, havin' got out o' the way 
 of carryin' 'em on account of his bein' so lucky an' 
 never havin' no need of 'em; but this did n't make 
 him feel grumpy, for, as he said to himself, a little 
 change would do him good. But, would you believe it? 
 when he anchored at an island to take in fresh water, 
 he went on shore himself, an', climbin' a little hill, 
 he saw, on the other side of the island, another ship 
 takin' in water, an' the skipper was his wife's cousin, 
 Andrew Tinkey, with plenty of spare spars aboard ; 
 an' Cap'n Cyrus's vessel bein' rigged up in double- 
 quick time by both crews, she got into port a week 
 before she was looked out for. I tell you what it is, 
 a owner has got to hunt a long while before he finds 
 three such cap'ns as them ! " 
 
22 THE MEBBY CHANTER. 
 
 In spite of my admiration of these noble fellows, 
 I could not help being practical. I could not believe 
 that they would be able to do everything. But when 
 I asked if some younger persons would not be needed 
 on the ship, Captain Asa answered very decidedly: 
 "JNo, sir ; no young fellows nor boys won't be needed. 
 If you shipped a bigger crew the profits would have 
 to be cut up into smaller sheers, and the cap'ns 
 wouldn't stand that." 
 
 "But suppose we don't make any profits," said 
 Doris. " That would be a great loss to these brave 
 old sailors." 
 
 " Oh, they won't lose nothin'," said Captain Asa 
 " They 've all got good houses, an' they rent 'em out 
 for the summer to city people. I 've got the lettin' of 
 them. They 're aU widowers, from two to three times 
 over, except Cap'n Cyrus, an' his wife has been Uvin' 
 for nigh on to five year at West Imbury, so he 's as free 
 as a sandpiper, an' no funeral in the family nuther." 
 
 Again my practical mind asserted itself. "Look 
 you. Captain," said I. " Is it expected that we are to 
 furnish provisions for the crew as well as ourselves, 
 and to supply money for the purchase of the cargo 
 when we get to Boston ? If that is the case, I think 
 that two-sixths of the profits is but a poor return." 
 
 "Oh, bother the profits," cried Doris. "I want to 
 hoist anchor and put to sea ! " 
 
 Captain Asa looked at her admiringly. "You 're just 
 like them cap'ns," said he. " They 're all hankerin' to 
 feel the ship heave an' to smell bilge-water. But 
 what you say is worth considerin', sir. I'U go an' 
 speak to 'em about it." 
 
THE MEBBY CHANTER. 23 
 
 In a few miimtes he returned and stated that the 
 captains allowed that what I said had sense in it, and 
 that they all agreed to chip in and each pay one-sixth 
 of expenses for stores and cargo. 
 
 " Good ! " cried Doris. " Now everything is settled, 
 and let us be on board and away." 
 
 But there was a good deal to be done before we 
 could be " on board and away." The captains, how- 
 ever, were as anxious as Doris to be away, and lost 
 no time in the necessary preparations. They knew 
 just what to do and what to get, and naturally we left 
 everything to them. 
 
 But the whole of the little town took an interest 
 in the fitting out of the Merry Chanter, the stout old 
 ship that had lain so long at Cantling's wharf, Doris 
 received much advice and some small presents from 
 the women, while the men gave a good deal of volun- 
 tary service which we well knew was all for the sake 
 of their old mates, the four captains. 
 
 Some things I could not help thinking of, and 
 standing by Captain Timon on the wharf, I asked him 
 if a wooden ship lying so long in the water did not 
 accumulate a great many barnacles on her side, which 
 would impede her sailing. 
 
 A shade of uneasiness passed over the face of the 
 old man. " Of course," said he, " when a vessel 's 
 been tied up for two or three years in salt water it 's 
 no more'n nat'ral that she'd have barnacles on. 
 Natur' is natur' an' there 's no gettin' round it, and 
 of course if the barnacles was cleaned off her she 'd 
 make more knots an hour than she would with 'em 
 on her. But I tell you what it is, sir, if you begin with 
 
24 THE MEBBY CHANTER. 
 
 barnacles there 's no tellin' how fur yon 11 have to go 
 on, nor where you '11 stop. Why, sir, if she was my 
 ship, an' things was as they is, I would n't do as 
 much as to paint the door of that galley. If you be- 
 gin anywhere, barnacles or paisnt, you 're bound to go 
 on, an' there 'd be no v'yage made in that ship this 
 year. It would be Kke old Tom Duffin of Scap's 
 Neck. Tom was about as well off as anybody in 
 these parts. He had a good house an' a big sloop- 
 rigged flshin'-boat. She wa' n't as fast as some, but 
 she was so big and safe-lookin' that the city people 
 who came down here always wanted to go sailin' with 
 Tom, an' he charged 'em high, he did, for in some 
 ways he wa'n't no fool. But bein' with these fine 
 people so much kinder twisted Tom's head, an' one 
 day he went off an' bought himself a new shiny black 
 silk hat. That was Tom's tnmin'-p'int. With that 
 hat on his head, his Sunday clothes, which ought to 
 have lasted him all his life, wa' n't good enough, an' 
 he got new ones. Then his wife's clothes wa' n't good 
 enough to go along with them, an' she got new ones. 
 Then the children's clothes wa' n't good enough to go 
 along with them, an' they got new ones. An' then 
 his f urnitur' wa' n't good enough to go along with all 
 them fine clothes, and new had to be got. And that 
 made the house look mean, an' Tom set to work to 
 build a new one. There ain't no use carryin' the 
 story all along, but Tom went straight from that new 
 silk hat to the Bremport poor-house, where he is now ; 
 and his wife 's a nurse in the chronic ward, an' his 
 children is out in service in Boston. Now, sir, I look 
 upon them barnacles as just the same as that black 
 
26 THK MEBBT CBANTEB. 
 
 hat. If you begin on tliem you may not bring up at 
 the poor-house, but there's no knowin' where you will 
 bring up. The only thing anybody can know is that 
 there will be no v'yage this year." 
 
 I could readily understand Captain Timon's mean- 
 ing and his anxiety to start on our voyage. If we 
 undertook to put the Merry Chanter into good repair 
 the chances of those four old captains feeling the 
 heave of the seas and smelling bilge-water would be 
 small indeed. 
 
 "From what you say I suppose you can sail the 
 ship, barnacles or no barnacles," I said. 
 
 " Sail her ! " exclaimed he. " Just you wait and 
 see ! An' the best thing we can do is to hurry up 
 her stores and get sail on her. The longer she lies 
 here the more barnacles she '11 get." 
 
 When I repeated this conversation to Doris she 
 declared .that Captain Timon was exactly right. 
 "We have no money to bedeck and adorn the 
 Merry Chanter," she said, " and if we had I would n't 
 do it. If we got her all into sleek and shiny ship- 
 shape, I suppose we 'd have to have a regular 
 ship-shape crew, and I would n't have that for the 
 world. Let us get on board with our four lively 
 old captains a,nd sail away before anything turns up 
 which wUl positively have to be done." 
 
IV 
 
 THE MERRT OS ANTES, SETS SAIL 
 
 S soon as possible Doris and I took 
 possession of our quarters on the 
 Merry GJianter. "We occupied the 
 captain's cabin, and our good skip- 
 per bunked forward with the crew. 
 "If they was common seamen," 
 said he, " I would n't do it ; but as they 're all cap- 
 tains, as well as me, I don't mind." 
 
 While busily engaged in arranging our cabin one 
 morning we were informed that some one wanted to 
 speak .with us, and we went on deck. There we 
 found a person whom for some days we had noticed 
 walking \ip and down on the wharf, and showing 
 an evident interest in our ship and our preparations. 
 He was a fresh-looking, smooth-faced young man, 
 over thirty perhaps, who stood up very erect, and 
 whose general air indicated that he was one who, 
 having found out what was good and what was bad 
 in this world, had been content to act upon his 
 knowledge, but at the same time to give himself 
 no airs of superiority to other people who had not 
 found out what he knew. This was a good deal 
 for anybody's air to indicate; but Doris told me 
 
 27 
 
28 THE MERRY CHANTER. 
 
 afterwards that it was what she thought this man's 
 air indicated. His manner of speaking to us was at 
 the same time independent and respectful. 
 
 " Would it suit you," he said, "to take me on board 
 your ship as a passenger ? " 
 
 We were somewhat surprised. "Where do you wish 
 to go?" I asked. 
 
 "I have been told that you sail for Boston," said he. 
 
 I replied that Boston was our destination. 
 
 "Very good," said he. "Then I wish to go to 
 Boston." 
 
 "But, sir," said Doris, "you can go a great deal 
 quicker by train, you know." 
 
 " I do not wish to travel by land," he said. " I wish 
 to sail by sea. I do not care very much to be in Bos- 
 ton, but I wish to go there on a ship." 
 
 " Are you a sailor ? " I asked. 
 
 " No, sir," he said ; " I am a butcher. For four years 
 and a half I have carried on butchery in this neigh- 
 borhood. You can inquire of anybody as to my char- 
 acter. I do not wish to butcher any niore, at least for 
 the present. I have saved some money and I intend 
 to travel, and it struck me that I 'd rather begin my 
 travels on your ship than in any other way. I do not 
 wish to work, but to pay my passage. Of course, if 
 there 's a wreck, or a man overboard, or the ship takes 
 fire, I 'm willin' to do my part as man to man. But 
 otherways what I want is to pay my way, and to be 
 beholden to no man, nor to have him beholden to me, 
 exceptin' in such things as are understood to be owed 
 by man to man." 
 
 We asked for a little time for consideration and re- 
 
THE MERBY CHANTER. 29 
 
 tired to the cabin, whither we summoued Captain 
 Timon. 
 
 " He speaks us fair," said Doris. " I think he would 
 make a good passenger." 
 
 Captain Timon thought so too. " He 's a very re- 
 spectable young man," said he ; " straightforward an' 
 honest, an' means what he says. If he wants to get 
 the worth of his money travelin', I guess he knows as 
 well as we do that he can get it on board this schooner ; 
 an' the money he pays will be somethin' sure to count 
 on." 
 
 " What shall we charge him ? " asked Doris. 
 
 " Well," said Captain Timon, " if you make it some- 
 thin' that can be divided even into six parts I '11 be 
 satisfied, an' I know the others will." 
 
 I then made a suggestion based upon the ordinary 
 fare to Boston, which, after some modification, was 
 agreed to; and I went on deck to inform the young 
 man that for so much money we would take him as 
 passenger to Boston. 
 
 The butcher instantly agreed to my terms, consented 
 to bunk forward with the crew, and went ashore to 
 fetch his baggage. In two or three hours he returned, 
 bringing his effects in a cart. They consisted of a 
 large trunk, a small trunk, a square, leather- covered 
 box, two long oblong boxes, a package wrapped in an 
 oil-skin cloth, and a market-basket, the cover of which 
 being slightly raised I saw to be full of boots and shoes. 
 Besides these he carried in his hand a cage containing 
 a sandpiper, with one wing carefully bandaged to its 
 body. 
 
 " It looks like a good deal of baggage," he said to 
 
30 THE MERBY CHANTER. 
 
 me, "just for a trip to Boston. But it is n't only to 
 Boston that I want to go. I 've set out to travel just 
 as long as I can keep it up. I 've sold my horse and 
 wagon, and what's here is aU the property I have, and 
 wherever I go I take it with me. As for this bird," 
 he said, " I saw him on the beach with a broken wing, 
 and I caught him, and now I 'm tryin' to cure him up. 
 When animals is too small to butcher, I 'm fond of 
 'em." 
 
 And thereupon, assisted by his carter, he carried his 
 property below. 
 
 Doris and I were getting very impatient to start on 
 our voyage, but there seemed to be no end of delays, 
 the principal of which was connected with the ship- 
 ment of stones — cobble-stones of varied sizes. As 
 the Merry Chanter could ship no cargo at Mooseley, for 
 the reason that there was nothing there to ship, it was 
 necessary that she should go to Boston in ballast, and 
 these stones were her ballast. 
 
 " They are filling it up from one end to the other ! " 
 cried Doris. "I never saw anything like it! This 
 waiting for bread and getting stones is more than I 
 counted on. Captain Timon," she cried. " If there are 
 so many barnacles on the ship I should think they 
 would serve for ballast." 
 
 The skipper shook his head. " It won't do to trust 
 to barnacles," he said, " though I don't doubt there 's 
 a good many of 'em. But don't be afraid, ma'am. 
 "We 'U get her off before you know it." 
 
 It was on the morning of a "Wednesday, the third of 
 June, that Captain Timon came to us rubbing his 
 hands and declared that the Merry Chanter was ready 
 
THE MEBBT CBANTEB. 31 
 
 to sail. He called the ship the Chanter, but that was 
 an abbreviation my wife and I never allowed ourselves 
 to adopt. 
 
 " Hurrah ! " cried Doris, before I could find words 
 to express my satisfaction. " And now, dear Captain, 
 let every sail be set, and hoist our ensign to the top- 
 most peak." 
 
 A smile came over the face of the good skipper. " I 
 guess we won't set every sail," said he. " They won't 
 be needed with this wind ; an' as to ensign, I don't 
 know as we 've got one aboard." 
 
 " That is too bad ! " said Doris. " As soon as we are 
 fairly off I '11 go to work and make one myself." 
 
 Everything being now all ready, and Captain Timon 
 having done everything that should be done for a 
 schooner clearing for Boston, we hoisted anchor ; that 
 is to say, we cast off the cables which for so long had 
 held the Merry Chanter to Cantling's wharf. 
 
 It seemed to me as if the whole town had turned 
 out to see us off and to help us get off. More willing 
 hands than were really necessary helped the captains 
 to hoist the foresail, the mainsail, and two jibs ; and 
 when this had been done the owners of the willing 
 hands scuttled down into their boats, made fast to a 
 line from the Merry Chanter, and vigorously pulled her 
 bows around so that she might take the wind. 
 
 It was a long time before her bow got around or 
 she took the wind; but Doris and I and the butcher 
 scarcely noticed this, so busy were we waving our 
 handkerchiefs, and shouting good-byes to the women, 
 the children, and the old men on the wharf, who in 
 return waved their handkerchiefs, their hands, or 
 
32 
 
 THE MEBBY CHANTER. 
 
 their hats to us, wishing us a lucky voyage, fair winds, 
 and smooth water. 
 
 At last the Merry Chanter was got around, the wind 
 filled her sails, the boats east off, and, pulling to a 
 little distance, their occupants waved their hats and 
 
 The owner of the Merry Chanter. 
 
 cheered ; there was a slight inclination of the deck to 
 leeward, and our ship was under way. 
 
 It is seldom, I think, that a ship goes to sea with a 
 crew composed entirely of captains, but the consider- 
 ation of the fact gave us great comfort. Here were 
 men with long lives of experience. Whatever might 
 
THE MEREY CHANTER. 33 
 
 happen, they would know exactly what to do. These 
 noble seamen had been from pole to pole ; they had 
 known the desolation of the icy north; they had 
 sailed through the furious typhoons of the tropics; 
 and with sound ships, or ships with battered sides, 
 they had dashed in safety through maddened waves 
 from port to port. And not only the best of good 
 seamanship, but the best of good luck, we carried 
 with us. In all his life Captain Cyrus had never had 
 anything serious happen to his ships ; and why should 
 he begin now ? It was especially consoling to me, as 
 I looked at my lovely wife, to think of these things at 
 the outset of our wedding trip. 
 
 Not only seamen of vast experience, but able and 
 lively seamen, were our captains. No one could im- 
 agine that years hung heavy upon them. Captain 
 Timon stood at the helm with the bold, bright eye of 
 an old sea-kiag. Captain Garnish, acting as mate, 
 strode tail and strong along the deck, looking up at 
 the sails and rigging with the air of a man who knew 
 exactly what each inch of canvas, each stick of tim- 
 ber, and each piece of cordage should at that moment 
 be doing, and ready, if he saw the least thing amiss, 
 to roar out condemnation. 
 
 Captain Teel had assumed the duties of cook, and 
 was now shut up in the galley ; but Captain Cyrus, as 
 lively as a squirrel, and still wearing his embroidered 
 velvet slippers, was here, there, and everywhere, stow- 
 ing away this, coiling up that, and making things, in 
 general, ship-shape, and always with a pleasant grin 
 upon his face, as if it were all an old story to him and 
 he liked it. 
 
34 THE MEBBT CHANTEE. 
 
 Doris ran forward to see how the Merry Chanter 
 himself was getting on, and I followed. We leaned 
 over the bulwarks of the bow and looked at him. 
 There he stood, part of his right arm still extended, 
 his head thrown back, and his long hair appearing 
 ready to float in the breeze, while his open mouth 
 seemed drinking in the fresh salt air. 
 
 " Look at him ! " cried Doris. " He is all ready for 
 the tossing waves, the roaring gale, and the brave sea 
 song. How grand it must be to stand there with 
 nothing but the sea before him, catching everything 
 first, and afraid of nothing ! " 
 
 Seizing my hands, Doris danced away with me over 
 an almost level deck. " Isn't this grand?" she said. 
 "And treading our own deck! Let's pipe all hands 
 to grog ! " 
 
 I entered into the enthusiasm, but demurred to the 
 grog-piping. 
 
 On the opposite side of the deck walked up and 
 down the batcher, clad in an immaculately clean 
 white gown of the kind peculiar to his trade, and 
 worn probably with the idea of keeping the dust off 
 his clothes. , 
 
 "How do you like the sea?" asked Doris as we 
 passed. 
 
 " I think I shall like it when we get there," said the 
 butcher. 
 
 " Get there? ■■' she exclaimed. " Don't you call this 
 the sea?" 
 
 " No," said he, " this is Mooseley harbor. When we 
 get around that point, two miles from here, then we 
 are really out to sea." 
 
THE MEBBY CSANTEB. 
 
 35 
 
 Captain Teel now appeared and informed us that 
 dinner was ready. It had been decided that the 
 butcher, as a passenger, should mess with us. Cap- 
 
 " 'Look at himl ' eried Doris." 
 
 tain Timon was also to be one of our company, but 
 he declined to leave the wheel for the present. 
 
 The butcher appeared at the table in a neat suit of 
 new clothes, having removed his gown. He was, in- 
 
36 THE MEBBT CHASTER. 
 
 deed, a very tidy and proper-looking fellow. As he 
 was used to that sort of thing, I invited him to carve. 
 
 "No, sir," said he quietly, but with decision; "I 
 have shut the shop door behind me." 
 
 We had fine sea appetites for our meal, but Doris 
 ate hurriedly. " I 'm so afraid we '11 pass around the 
 point while I am down here," she said. " I would n't 
 for the world miss our actual passage out upon the 
 bosom of Mother Ocean ! " 
 
 "When we ran on deck we looked about and beheld 
 the point still ahead of us. 
 
 " Why, Captain Timon," said Doris, " have we sailed 
 at all?" 
 
 " Oh, yes," he said cheerily ; "we're gettin' on, we're 
 gettin' on. We have n't lost no headway so fur. This 
 wind'H freshen before long, and then you 11 see." 
 And, leaving the helm in care of Captain Garnish, he 
 went below. 
 
 Whether the wind fell ofE instead of freshening, or 
 whether, as Doris surmised, we had become accident- 
 ally anchored, we certainly made but little progress, 
 and there were times when it seemed as if the distant 
 point were actually becoming more distant. 
 
 As there was no probability of an immediate rush 
 out upon Mother Ocean, we went below to look over 
 our little stock of literature ; and while so engaged 
 we heard a great sound of flapping and banging upon 
 deck. Hurrying up, we found that the sails were 
 loosely swinging and hanging, and that the crew, 
 assisted by Captain Timon, were engaged in pulling 
 them down. 
 
 " What is the matter ? " we cried. 
 
THE MEBBY CHANTER. 37 
 
 "Nothin' is the matter," replied Captain Cyrus, 
 cheerily. " We 're goin' to fish." 
 
 Doris sat down on something. " Fish ! " she gasped. 
 
 Captain Timon now came towards us. " You see," 
 said he, "it ain't no use tryin' to make headway 
 against this flood tide ; an' so we thought we 'd a 
 great sight better anchor and fish. The fish '11 be 
 eomin' in lively with the flood. The tide will turn 
 about six o'clock, an' then we can go out on the ebb 
 an' pass the p'int in just the prettiest time of the 
 evenin'. An' if you want to fish, there 's lines 
 enough on board for everybody." 
 
 For some minutes we were disgusted to the point 
 of not being able to say how disgusted we were. Then 
 Doris, seeing the captains gathered at the stern all 
 busy in preparing their lines, sprung to her feet and 
 declared that she might as well make the best of it, 
 and that she was going to fish. 
 
 Captain Cyrus took charge of her, baiting her hook, 
 and cheerily giving her all needful help and advice. 
 As for me, I did not care to fish; and as for the 
 butcher, he did not care to fish ; and, together, we 
 walked forward. 
 
 " It 's my opinion," said he, confidentially, " that 
 this is a stone ship. I '11 lay two to one there 's bar- 
 nacles on her like the foundation walls of a church, 
 and inside they 've loaded her up with stone enough 
 for a monument. If she ever sticks fast on a bar 
 she'll be solid enough to build a lighthouse on." 
 
 " You don't seem to have faith in the sailing quali- 
 ties of our ship," said I. " You must be sorry you 
 took passage with us." 
 4 
 
38 THE MEBBY CRANTEB. 
 
 " Oh, no," said he. " I 've come on board with all 
 my belongin's, and I intend to stick to her as long as 
 anybody else does. Stone ship, or wooden ship, I 
 don't go back on my bargain." 
 
 The Merry Chanter was lying two or three miles from 
 Mooseley and about a mile and a half from the point. 
 The wind and tide together had swung her around so 
 that she lay almost broadside to the distant town. 
 Looking in that direction we saw, far away, a little 
 boat. 
 
 The butcher gazed a few moments in silence, and 
 then he said : " There 's a skiff comin' after us from 
 town. Perhaps they think somethin' 's happened. 
 I '11 go down and get one of the spy-glasses and see 
 who it is." 
 
 When he returned with the glass he leveled it at the 
 boat. For a few moments he gazed, and then he said, 
 forcibly, but in an undertone, " I '11 be knocked in the 
 head if that is n't Captain Cyrus's wife ! " 
 
 " What do you suppose she wants ? " I asked. " Why 
 does she come ? " 
 
 " No man can tell you that," he answered. " She 
 hates sea air, and won't live with him. But since I 've 
 been in these parts she 's come down four times to see 
 him, and every time he has been away on a fishin' 
 cruise or somethin'. You know Captain Cyrus goes 
 for the luckiest man in the world. But, my conscience ! 
 she made it hot for the neighbors when she saw the 
 way his house was kept. And now she 's found him 
 off again ; but bein' anchored, she 's come after us. 
 I '11 go and report to the skipper." 
 
 So sajdng, he walked aft, and taking Captain Timon 
 
THE MEBBY CHANTER. 39 
 
 aside, he stated what he had seen. I followed, and I 
 perceived that this intelligence had a wonderful effect 
 upon our skipper. 
 
 " Don't say a word to Captain Cyrus," he whispered 
 to us. " We must get out of this in no time." And, 
 without a moment's delay, he piped all hands to haul 
 up fishing-lines, weigh anchor, hoist sail, and get 
 under way. 
 
 In these hurried preparations I did what I could to 
 help ; and the butcher looked as if he would like to 
 follow my example, but was restrained by the pro- 
 prieties of his position as a passenger. 
 
 " If there 's any danger of that boat catehin' up," 
 said he, " I 'U lay hold and work like a good fellow ; 
 for her comin' aboard will' be worse than a ship afire." 
 
 The skipper was at the wheel. " We 're goin' to run 
 her before the wind," he said, " an' we won't try to 
 double the p'int. That land off there makin' the sou'- 
 west line of our harbor is an island, an' there 's an 
 inlet between it and the mainland that we can run 
 through. Wind and tide will favor us, an' I reckon 
 we can get away; an' Captain Cyrus won't never 
 know nuthin' about it. That boat can't pull across 
 the bay after us ; she 's huggin' the shore now on ac- 
 count of the tide. Them 's two colored men that 's 
 been waiters at a hotel that 's puUin' her. There ain't 
 a man belongin' to our town that would get out his 
 boat to take Captain Cyrus's wife after him." 
 
 "But will not Captain Cyrus suspect something 
 from your sudden change of plans ? " I asked. 
 
 " He knows the fish would n't bite," said the skipper, 
 " an' that ought to be reason enough." 
 
40 THE MERBY CHANTER. 
 
 The situation had been explained to Doris, and she 
 was wildly anxious to have every stitch of canvas 
 crowded upon the Merry Chanter that she might speed 
 across the bay, and away from that little boat. 
 
 " What she wants is to come aboard," said Doris, 
 " and we can't have a woman like that on the Merry 
 Chanter. If she wants to scold her husband let her 
 wait until he gets home. It is n't far to Boston and 
 back." 
 
 Captain Timon smiled at this remark. " We 're not 
 on a straight line for Boston just now, but if we try 
 to double that p'int she '11 catch us sure." 
 
 " Then let us forget there is a point," said Doris, 
 who in this matter was exactly of my opinion. 
 
 It did not seem the Merry Chanter's habit to dash 
 through the water, but with a good wind behind her 
 and a tide more in her favor than against her she 
 sailed across the bay at a rate considerably greater 
 than that of a boat rowed by two inexperienced oars- 
 men. When the little boat saw what we were about 
 it left the shore and steered as if to cut us off. But 
 it was easy to see that the tide was carrying it back 
 towards the town. 
 
 The tide also carried us in a somewhat retrograde 
 direction, but by the aid of the wind we laid a straight 
 course for the inlet of which Captain Timon had 
 spoken. 
 
 Captain Cyrus was kept busy forward and suspected 
 nothing of his pursuit by the little boat. 
 
 "She has about gi'n up the chase," said Captain 
 Timon, looking back at the boat. " Them feUows 
 can't catch a schooner sailing afore the wind, an' I 
 
THE MEBBY CHANTER. 41 
 
 don't believe they want to try much nuther. We was 
 at anchor when they put out from town." 
 
 I had known oarsmen who, I thought, would be 
 able to catch that schooner even were she sailing 
 before the wind. 
 
 In about two hours we reached the inlet, and Doris 
 and I were surprised to find how narrow it was. It 
 was like a small river. 
 
 " Do large ships often go through here ? " I asked of 
 the skipper. 
 
 " 'T ain't common," said he, " but me an' the other 
 eap'ns knows every inch of this inlet and every 
 stage of the tide, an' you can rest sure there '11 
 always be a foot of water between her keel an' 
 the bottom." 
 
 The inlet, we were told, was three miles long and 
 opened into Shankashank Bay. For a great part of 
 this distance the incoming tide carried us through, 
 and when we met the flood from the bay the inlet 
 had widened, so that we were enabled to take advan- 
 tage of the wind for the rest of the way. 
 
 It was nearly dark when we emerged into Shanka- 
 shank Bay, but we could see well enough to judge that 
 it was a large expanse of water. 
 
 "We may as well anchor here," said the captain, 
 " an' make ourselves comfortable for the night. 
 Even if she can get anybody to row her, it 's not 
 likely she can come through that inlet after us. The 
 tide runs in at both ends of it, an' meets in the 
 middle, an' unless she strikes it just at high tide or 
 low tide she 'U find a reg'lar mill-race ag'in' her fur 
 half the way, no matter whether it is flood or ebb." 
 
42 THE MEBBY CHANTER. 
 
 The captains were all busy anchoring the schooner 
 and getting down the sails when the butcher came up 
 the companion-way and beckoned me apart. 
 
 "Look here!" said he, — and I noticed that he 
 appeared somewhat agitated,^ " do you know that 
 there is a stowaway aboard?" 
 
 " A what 1" 1 exclaimed. 
 
 " Yes, there is," he continued ; " a regular one. I 
 was down below where it was pretty dark, bein' only 
 one lantern, when I heard a voice comin' from I 
 did n't know where, and sayin', ' Butcher, ahoy ! ' 
 I give a jump and looked about lively, I can tell 
 you. And directly I saw a straw hat a-stickin' up 
 from the edge of a hatchway. ' Look you, butcher,' 
 says some one under the hat, 'can't you get me 
 somethin' to eat?' 'Who are you?' says L 'I am 
 a stowaway,' he said; 'and as you are neither a 
 captain nor an owner, I hope I may persuade you 
 to get me somethin' to eat, for I am very hungry. 
 "When the ship is fairly out to sea I will come forth, 
 but until then I beg you will keep my secret.' Now 
 what .sort of a stowaway do you call that, sir ?" asked 
 the butcher earnestly. 
 
 " A very odd one," I answered. " What did you say 
 to him?" 
 
 " I did n't say no more, but come right upstairs to 
 speak to you ; and he don't know whether I 've gone 
 to get him grub or to report him to the skipper." 
 
 " Of course we ought to tell Captain Timon," said I. 
 
 " I don't know about that," said the butcher, shak- 
 ing his head. "Sea captains are mighty severe on 
 shipboard. It 's ten to one they 'd drag him out and 
 
THE MEKBY CHANTER. 43 
 
 pitch him overboard, and it 's too dark for him to see 
 to swim ashore. I think it will be better to give him 
 somethin' to eat and let him stay aboard till mornin', 
 and then we can put him ashore decently." 
 
 " But don't you think it will be dangerous to have 
 such a man on board during the night ? " 
 
 " You need n't be afraid of him," he said. " I 've 
 brought my butcher tools along. And, what 's more, 
 that fellow ain't got no call to come out. What he 
 wants is to keep shady." 
 
 We talked a little more on the subject, and I then 
 agreed that the butcher should give the stowaway 
 something to eat, and that nothing should be said to 
 the captains or to my wife until the morning, 
 
 I was ill at ease, however, and did not sleep well 
 that night. After tossing about a good deal, I quietly 
 arose and peeped out of the cabin door. By the dim 
 light of the lantern I saw, not far away, the butcher, 
 sitting on a chest. His arms were folded; his eyes 
 were open, gazing thoughtfully into the surrounding 
 darkness; and by his side lay a bright and heavy 
 butcher's cleaver. 
 
 He did not see me; and I softly closed the door, 
 got into my berth, and fell into a sound sleep. 
 
THE STOWAWAY 
 
 i|HEN, early in the morning, after 
 onr first night on board the Merry 
 Chanter, I met the butcher, I did not 
 mention to him that I had discov- 
 ered him standing, or rather sitting, 
 guard before our cabin. I believed 
 that the sentiments which prompted 
 him to this delicate attention should be respected. 
 
 " WeU," said I, " did everything go on all right in 
 the night?" 
 
 " All right," he answered. " I have just peeped 
 down the hatchway, and I caught sight of his straw 
 hat. I guess the rest of him is there. And, if you 
 say so, we 'U let him stay till after breakfast." 
 
 An hour later, when the captain and Doris were 
 informed that there was a stowaway in the hold, there 
 was great excitement on board the schooner. All 
 thoughts of weighing anchor and setting sail were 
 abandoned for the time. Every soul on the vessel re- 
 paired to the hatchway. Even Doris pressed as near 
 the edge as I would allow. The stowaway was bidden 
 to come forth, and almost immediately he scrambled 
 up among us. The light was not very good between 
 decks, and we could only see that he was a man of 
 medium height and of spare build. 
 
THE MEURT CHANTER. 
 
 45 
 
 With Captain Timon on tlie one side of him, and 
 Captain Garnish on the other, the stowaway was 
 marched to the upper deck. This unauthorized pas- 
 senger was seen to possess an inteUigent face and a 
 very rusty suit of clothes. Glancing rapidly around 
 him, he exclaimed, "We are not at sea!" 
 
 " At sea ! " roared Cap- 
 tain Garnish. " A double- 
 headed Dutchman of a 
 land-lubber you must be 
 not to know the differ- 
 ence between pitchin' 
 on the sea and lyin' 
 aU night at an- 
 chor in smooth 
 water ! 
 
 Captain Garnish. 
 
 How dared you stow your- 
 ' self away on board this ves- 
 sel? Is it rope's end first, or 
 simple chuck over the side ? " he said, turning to the 
 skipper. 
 
 " We won't be too hard on him," said Captain 
 Timon. "Perhaps the man can't swim." 
 
 "He ain't done no harm," said Captain Cyrus. 
 "Let's let him off easy and set him ashore in a boat." 
 
46 THE MEBBY CHANTER. 
 
 Captain Teel shook his head. "It won't do," he 
 said, " to offer prizes for that sort of thing." 
 
 " Prizes ! " cried Captain Garnish, who was evi- 
 dently a man of high temper, with a strong way of 
 doing and putting things. " I'd prize him ! I 'd — " 
 
 Doris now spoke up. "None of those things shaU 
 be done to him," she said, " until he tells his story. 
 Please, sir, wiU. you teU us your story?" 
 
 The man had a pair of plaintive eyes, and he fixed 
 them upon Doris. " I am a schoolmaster," he said. 
 " For nearly a year I have been teaching at "West 
 Imbury." 
 
 Each of the captains now put his head a little for- 
 ward, and listened with great attention. 
 
 "I stood it as long as I could," said the school- 
 master, "and then I ran away. I am not a sailor, 
 but I thought I should like to go to sea. Any- 
 thing would be better than teaching school at "West 
 Imbury." 
 
 " Did the scholars treat you badly ? " asked Doris. 
 
 "Oh, no," said the schoolmaster. "I don't mind 
 boys, I can manage them; but it was the woman I 
 boarded with who drove me to desperation." 
 
 " Could n't you board somewhere else?" asked Doris. 
 
 " No, not at all," he answered. " She had a con- 
 tract from the town to board me for two years. She 
 was the lowest bidder. She would lose money if I 
 went away, and she threatened me with the law. 
 But my privations and misery were insupportable, 
 and I fled." 
 
 ""Who was the woman who had your contract?" 
 asked Captain Cyrus. 
 
47 
 
48 THE MEBBY CHANTER. 
 
 " Mrs. Bodship," said the schoolmaster. 
 
 At these -words each of the four captains heaved 
 a sigh, and, involuntarily. Captain Cyrus laid his 
 hand on the man's shoulder. 
 
 " Now that you 've put yourself square afore us," 
 said Captain Timon, "I don't know as we 've got 
 much to say ag'in you; but you ought to have 
 come aboard square an' honest, instead of stowin' 
 away." 
 
 " I was told," said the schoolmaster, " that you did 
 not want any hands, and I could not stay on shore a 
 moment longer." 
 
 " Do you wish to go to Boston ? " asked Doris. 
 
 "I will go anywhere," said the schoolmaster. "I 
 will do anything, if only you will let me stay with 
 you." 
 
 The captains now retired and talked together, 
 while Doris and I had some further conversation 
 with the schoolmaster. In a few minutes the cap- 
 tains returned. 
 
 " "We have agreed," said the skipper, " that if 
 the owners are wUlin' we are wiUin' to let him stay 
 on board, on condition that he is not to have any 
 part of the profits. "We are all agreed that the profits 
 ought not to be divided into any more than six parts. 
 So that if he stays aboard he must n't do no more 
 work than will just pay for what he eats; a bunk, 
 not costin' anything, can be thrown in for nothin'." 
 
 This compact was quickly made, and the schoolmas- 
 ter, much relieved, was taken below to breakfast. 
 
 "There ain't no need," said Captain Timon, confi- 
 dentially, " fur Captain Cyrus or that schoolmaster to 
 
THE MEBBT CHANTER. 49 
 
 know that Mrs. BodsMp was tryin' to overhaul the 
 schooner. It will just worry the captain, an' won't 
 do the schoolmaster no good." 
 
 " Do yoii think Mrs. Bodship will continue her 
 pursuit?" I asked. 
 
 " Yes, sir," said the skipper. " She 's the kind of 
 woman that don't give up easy. But I think we 've 
 given her the slip. She '11 be sure to think that 
 we 've rounded this island and sailed north, for, of 
 course, we could n't have no caU to stay in Shanka- 
 shank Bay. It 's my opinion she 's gone to Boston to 
 be ready to meet us when we get there. She 's got a 
 horse an' buggy, an' I calculate she '11 drive herself 
 there." 
 
 " You don't mean," exclaimed Doris, " that she can 
 get to Boston in a buggy sooner than we can get there 
 in the Merry Chanter ? " 
 
 " Yes, I do," answered Captain Timon. " She 's an 
 awful woman with the whip. An' the reason I think 
 she will go in her buggy is that she '11 want to call at 
 the different ports to see if we have put into any of 
 them for water or repairs." 
 
 " Horrible ! " cried Doris. " What shaU we do when 
 we get to Boston and find her there ? " 
 
 "I don't believe she '11 wait," said the skipper. 
 " She 's a nervous woman, an' hates to wait. I guess 
 she 'U be gone when we get there." 
 
 "When the schoolmaster came on deck he had tidied 
 himself up a little and now looked like another man. 
 " I cannot thank you enough," he said to Doris and 
 me, "for allowing me to remain on board of your 
 ship. It is like beginning a new life. But I must 
 5 
 
50 
 
 THE MMBBT CHANTER. 
 
 admit that I shall feel safer when I am out upon the 
 open sea." 
 
 " Can you swim ? " asked the butcher, who was 
 standing near. 
 
 The schoolmaster answered that he was sorry to be 
 obliged to say that he could not; whereupon the 
 
 The Butcher. 
 
 butcher gently whistled a few notes and gazed out 
 over the water. 
 
 I had begun to believe that the butcher was a pes- 
 simist. 
 
 "And now, Captain," cried Doris, "let us up 
 anchor and hoist sail. There is no reason for our 
 stopping here any longer." 
 
THE MEBBT CHANTER. 51 
 
 "I don't know about that," said Captain Timon, 
 dubiously. " The tide is comin' in again, an' we '11 
 get out of this bay just as quick by lyin' here as by 
 tryin' to sail ag'in that flood-tide. But if you 'd like to 
 be movin', we can take a sail along the coast of Shank- 
 ashank Bay an' have a sight of the country ; an' 
 then, when the tide turns, we can go out on the 
 ebb." 
 
 " Oh, by all means, let us sail I " cried Doris. 
 "Anything is" better than being anchored here." 
 
 " Am I to understand. Captain," said I, " that dur- 
 ing our voyage we are to stop every time the tide is 
 against us?" 
 
 " Oh, no," said the skipper, with a laugh. " That 's 
 only when we 're in these bays. "We sha'n't take no 
 account of tide when we are out to sea." 
 
 During the rest of that morning we sailed along 
 the coast of Shankashank Bay, sometimes half a mile 
 from the land and sometimes even less. It was a 
 pretty shore and we enjoyed it, although we were 
 moving south, and almost directly away from Boston. 
 There was a good wind from the west, but we sailed 
 slowly. "We would not wish, however, to sail very 
 fast in the wrong direction. 
 
 "We passed a little scattered town, with a few fish- 
 ing-boats anchored along the shore. Then we came 
 to a bluff crowned with pine woods which extended 
 some distance back into the interior. The country, 
 as far as we could see along the shore, appeared 
 marshy and thinly settled. 
 
 The captains now went forward and talked together, 
 leaving the wheel in my hands. I had determined to 
 
52 THE MEBBY CHANTEB. 
 
 learn to steer, and to get as much nautical education 
 as possible. 
 
 In a very few minutes Captain Timon returned. 
 "We 've agreed," said he, "that we 'dberunnin' ag'in 
 sense an' reason if we did n't lay to here and take in 
 water." 
 
 " Water ! " I cried. " Why, we have taken in water." 
 
 " Yes," said the skipper, " common water. But just 
 the other side of that bluff there 's the Kilkink Spring. 
 A tribe of Injuns used to live there just on account 
 of that spring. There is no better water in the world, 
 an' it 's great on keepin'. Fur a long v'yage there 's 
 nothin' like it." 
 
 At first Doris and I were inclined to rebel, but sud- 
 denly she changed her mind. " It is true," she said, 
 " that the water we have had to drink so far is flat 
 and horrid, and now that we have a chance of taking 
 in some fine spring water we ought by all means to 
 do so. It can't keep us long." 
 
 This seemed to me a proper moment to assert my- 
 self, and to make Doris understand that I was the 
 one who should decide questions of this sort. But 
 upon reflection I found that I was not prepared to 
 take such action. When I took my true position I 
 must be fully prepared to maintain it. 
 
 In twentyminutes we were anchored about a quarter 
 of a mile from the bluff, and after dinner a boat with 
 two casks and two captains went ashore for water. 
 
 The schoolmaster was ill at ease. " I do not be- 
 lieve," said he to me, " that I can truly feel safe from 
 Mrs. Bodship until we are actually out at sea." 
 
 The butcher walked aft to where Captain Timon 
 
THE MEBBY CBANTEB. 53 
 
 was quietly smoking his pipe. " Look here," said the 
 butcher ; " you ought to give that schoolmaster some- 
 thia' to do. He has got a mind, he has, and if you 
 don't set his arms and legs a-goin' that mind of his 
 will run away with him." 
 
 " I have given him somethin' to do," said the skip- 
 per, sternly. " He 's lent a hand at the capstan, an' 
 he 's lent a hand at the sheets. That '11 pay fur his 
 breakfast an' dinner, an' I can't give him no more 
 work till he 's had his supper." 
 
 The butcher made no further remark to the skip- 
 per, but turning to me as I sat by with my afternoon 
 pipe, he said : " He 's so scared that he won't stay on 
 deck for fear that she might be driving along in her 
 buggy and get sight of him. And if she does, he 
 says, she '11 be bound to come aboard." 
 
 "What in the world is he afraid of?" I asked. 
 " He must be very siUy." 
 
 " He is afraid of Mrs. Bodship," said the butcher ; 
 " and if you knew Mrs. Bodship you 'd be afraid of 
 her too, especially if she had a contract to board you. 
 I believe that wherever that schoolmaster goes she 'd 
 follow him and board him, so that she could send in 
 her bill to the town." For a moment he stood in 
 thought. " I know what I '11 do ! " he exclaimed. 
 "I '11 lend him one of my gowns to wear over his 
 clothes. Then he can be on deck as much as he 
 pleases, and if she does see him she won't know him 
 unless her spectacles are a lot better than most." 
 
 Not long afterwards there appeared on deck what 
 seemed to be a pair of butchers. Doris and I were 
 much amused by the spectacle. But, notwithstand- 
 
54 THE MMBST CHANTMB. 
 
 ing Ms garb, the schoolmaster did not look the 
 butcher. His gait, his bearing, were not those of a 
 genuine slicer of meat and cleaver of bones. Still, 
 he was disguised sufficiently to deceive any Mrs. Bod- 
 ship who might be traveling on shore. 
 
 The butcher's efforts on behalf of the schoolmaster's 
 peace of mind did not end here. After a few turns 
 up and down the deck in deep reflection he came aft, 
 bringing with him the cage which contained the 
 wounded sandpiper. 
 
 " Look here," said he to the schoolmaster, " I wish 
 you 'd run this bird while you 're aboard. I 'm not 
 such an hour-and-minute man as you are, and some- 
 times I forget him." 
 
 The schoolmaster took the cage and looked inquir- 
 ingly at the other. 
 
 " Now," said the butcher, " there 's a good deal to 
 occupy the mind in running a sandpiper in a cage, 
 especially if he 's got a broken wing. I laid out to 
 cure that wing, but I guess you can do it a great deal 
 better than I could, if you give your mtud to it. 
 What he wants is plenty of mutton tallow, and a cage 
 kept as clean as a hospital ward." 
 
 When the two casks and Captain Teel and Captain 
 Garnish returned in the boat, the schoolmaster, with 
 a piece of sail-cloth tied in front of him to protect his 
 butcher's gown, was busily engaged in cleaning the 
 sandpiper's cage. Captain Garnish stepped up to him 
 with an angry glare upon his face. 
 
 " Look here," he said, " that 's ag'in contract. We 
 did n't take you aboard this schooner to work except 
 meal stints, an' no more." 
 
THE MEBBY CHANTER. 65 
 
 The schoolmaster looked up at the angry captain, 
 but before he could reply the butcher broke in. 
 " Now, then, cap'n," said he, " this sandpiper business 
 is a private job between me and the schoolmaster. 
 What he gets and what he don't get is his business 
 and mine. The sandpiper has n't got anything to do 
 with the ship, and he could be run ashore just as well 
 as he is run here." 
 
 The severity on Captain Garnish's countenance 
 began to fade. " Very well," said he ; "if it 's private 
 I 've nothin' to say. But there 's no claims fur work 
 to be brought ag'in the profits." 
 
VI 
 
 THE MAN ON THE HTT.T. 
 
 ORIS and I were amazed at the slow 
 progress made by the captains in 
 supplying the Merry Chanter with 
 pure water from the celebrated Kil- 
 kink Spring. The boat went out 
 again, this time with the skipper 
 and Captain Teel, and their trip was a longer one 
 than that of the two other captains. At the end of 
 the third trip evening began to fall, and Captain 
 Timon said it would be of no use to try to get any 
 more water that day. 
 
 " Any more ? " cried Doris. " Surely we have enough 
 by this time ! " 
 
 The skipper smiled and shook his head. " Not fur 
 a sea v'yage," he said. " When you once get out to 
 sea there 's no gettin' in fresh water. You see we 've 
 throwed out aU we took in at Mooseley, because you 
 said that it did n't agree with you. "We don't want 
 to make onr owners sick, you know." 
 
 " I wish I had never mentioned the water," said 
 Doris, marching away. 
 
 The next morning the process of taking in the 
 water began again; but there was no use fretting 
 
THE MEBEY CBANTEK. 57 
 
 about this, Captain Timon remarked, for the tide was 
 coming in again and we ought to be glad that we had 
 something useful to do while we were obliged to wait. 
 
 Restless and impatient, and tired of walking up 
 and down the deck of our anchored vessel, Doris and 
 I went ashore on the second trip of the boat, thinking 
 a country walk might quiet our minds. The butcher 
 had already been landed; but we could not induce 
 the schoolmaster to leave the ship. We left him 
 anointing and bandaging the wounded wing of the 
 sandpiper. 
 
 Doris would not leave until the skipper had assured 
 her that our going on shore would not interfere with 
 the sailing of the Merry Chanter when the proper 
 time came. Captain Timon said he would fire a gun 
 — he had a musket on board — two hours before he 
 weighed anchor, and as this would certainly give us 
 plenty of time to return to the ship, we went ashore 
 with easy hearts. 
 
 The country which lay between the bluff and the 
 little town was slightly rolling ; wiry grass growing 
 thinly in the sandy soil, with a few bushes bere and 
 there. At some distance, on the top of a little 
 rounded hill, we saw the butcher, apparently admir- 
 ing the landscape. As we walked in his direction, 
 desiring to know if anything could be seen from the 
 top of that hiU, he came down to meet us. 
 
 " Do you know," he said, as soon as he was near 
 enough, " if that schoolmaster was attendin' to my 
 sandpiper ? " 
 
 We assured him that we had left the pedagogue 
 giving careful attention to the unfortunate bird. 
 
58 THE MEBBT CEANTEB. 
 
 "I am glad of that," lie said, Ms countenarice 
 , assuming an expression of relief. "He ought to 
 keep himself occupied, and the captains won't let him 
 do no more for the ship than just exactly so much. 
 I was afraid he might get tired stayin' there doin' 
 nothin' and might come ashore. And it would be 
 pretty rough on him if she were to nab him before 
 he 'd got to fairly f eelin' at home on the ship." 
 
 "What were you looking at from that hiU?" asked 
 Doris, who was anxious to go on. 
 
 "I was looking for Mrs. Bodship," said he, "If 
 I 'd seen her driving this way in her buggy I 'd been 
 on board in no time, and had that schoolmaster 
 stowed away among the ballast ; and if he 'd heaved 
 some of it at her when she come down to look for 
 him I would n't have blamed him, though, of course. 
 Captain Cyrus's feelings must be taken into account 
 when it comes to that." 
 
 " I think you are entirely too much afraid of Mrs. 
 Bodship," said I. 
 
 "Well, she has n't come along yet," said the 
 butcher. " But on the top of that hill there is a 
 man that I 've had my eye on for pretty nigh an 
 hour. In the whole of that time I don't believe 
 he 's taken his eyes off the ship. I have an idea that 
 he has got a contract to spy for Mrs. Bodship." 
 
 " Let us go straight over there and speak to him," 
 said Doris. " No man has a right to spy on the 
 Merry Chanter." 
 
 Doris spoke so quickly that I had no time to pro- 
 pose this myself, but we instantly started for the 
 distant man. 
 
THE MEBBY CHANTER. 59 
 
 " Let me go first," said the butcher. " He may have 
 a club or a knife about him." 
 
 "Whether or not the butcher had his cleaver in 
 one of his pockets I could not tell, but he walked 
 bravely on. 
 
 The man on the hill did not seem at all disturbed 
 by our approach. On the contrary, he came to meet 
 us, as the butcher had done. He was a middle-sized 
 man, somewhat inclined to stoutness, but very quick 
 and springy in his gait. His face was plump and 
 ruddy, smooth shaven except a pair of sandy side- 
 whiskers, and he had pleasant blue eyes. "Without 
 doubt he was an Englishman. 
 
 " Good morning to you," he said, raising his hat. 
 " Now I dare say you belong to that ship." 
 
 I informed him that my wife and I owned the 
 vessel. 
 
 " Really ! " he exclaimed. " Now teU me where are 
 you bound to ? " 
 
 " To Boston," I replied. 
 
 " The very thing ! " he exclaimed. " Boston is in the 
 North somewhere, now, is n't it? I 'm an English 
 traveler, but I don't like your long railway carriages. 
 In England we 'd use them for bridges. I came to 
 this place in a wagon, but it is broken to smash 
 down there iu that village. Now, I should like, of 
 aU things, to take a sail along the coast; I don't 
 care whether it is to Boston or Salt Lake City. Now, 
 tell me, TviU you book me as a passenger? It is a 
 trading vessel, is n't it?" 
 
 Doris and I consulted apart. "I have an idea," 
 said she, " that it is not impossible we might make 
 
60 THE MEBBT CHANTEB. 
 
 more money carrying passengers than freight. He 
 seems like an honest, straightforward man. Why 
 should n't we take him to Boston?" 
 
 "We returned and told the man that we were mak- 
 ing a regular commercial cruise to Boston, and that 
 if he was in no hurry to get there we would take him 
 as a passenger. 
 
 "Good!" he cried; "I'll go. I am in no hurry, 
 you know. But you are positively sure now that you 
 are not going to cross the Atlantic ? " 
 
 So far the butcher had not spoken, nor did he 
 speak now; but the spasm of resigned pessimism 
 which seemed to run through his frame, heaving his 
 chest and gently upturning his eyes, indicated quite 
 plainly his opinion of the Merry Chanter's crossing the 
 Atlantic. 
 
 Having assured the Englishman that our trade was 
 entirely coastwise, he declared he would go instantly 
 to the town, fetch his luggage, and be on board in no 
 time. In fact, when we had finished our ramble and 
 were about to enter the boat which Captain Teel had 
 rowed over to take us back to dinner, we saw our 
 passenger rapidly striding over the hills bearing an 
 immense portmanteau in one hand and in the other 
 a hat-box, a bundle of umbrellas and canes, besides 
 various other packages. He shouted to us to wait for 
 him, and we took him on board with us. 
 
 The captains did not object in the least to our new 
 passenger. " Summer tenants an' boarders," said 
 Captain Timon, " an' saUin' parties long and short, 
 has got ten times more money in 'em than fish an' 
 crops, or the flour trade either, for that matter. I go 
 
61 
 
62 THE MESBY CHANTEB. 
 
 in fiir pickin' up passengers all along the coast if we 
 can get 'em." 
 
 "Always being careful," said Doris, in an under- 
 tone, " not to pick up a Bodship." At whicli Captain 
 Timon gave a sympatlietic grin. 
 
 After dinner Doris said to me, " We ought to have 
 a book in which to put down the names of our pas- 
 sengers." Accordingly I made one of several sheets 
 of paper. "We entered first the name of the butcher, 
 and then I was about to write that of the school- 
 master, but Doris objected. 
 
 " We ought to have another page for a free list," 
 she said, " and put him on that." 
 
 When this had been arranged we went on deck to 
 inquire the name of our new passenger. We found 
 him sitting on a coU of rope, smoking a black 
 wooden pipe and talking gaily to the butcher, the 
 schoolmaster, and three of the captains. 
 
 "What is your name, sir?" said I, approaching 
 with my book in my hand. 
 
 He took his pipe from his mouth in deference to 
 the presence of my wife. " I am Lord Crabstairs," 
 he said. 
 
 I happened to be looking at the butcher at this 
 moment, and saw him suddenly turn upon his heel 
 and disappear below. In an instant he returned. 
 His arms were folded upon his chest, but I could 
 see beneath his white gown the distinct outlines of a 
 cleaver. He stepped close to me. 
 
 " Maniacy is a thing," he whispered, "which cannot 
 be allowed on shipboard." 
 
 " You may think it a little odd," said the new pas- 
 
THE MEBMY CHANTER. 63 
 
 senger, looking about on the various degrees of 
 surprise and amazement expressed upon the coun- 
 tenances of the company, "that a member of the 
 Upper House should be neglecting his parliamentary 
 duties and taMng passage with you for Boston, 
 where he has n't the least business in the world, 
 you know. But when I have told you my story you 
 won't think it so beastly odd, after all." 
 
 "Story?" cried Doris. "Let everybody sit down 
 and listen." 
 
 And everybody did; Captain Teel being brought 
 post-haste from the cook's gaUey. 
 
VII 
 
 LORD CEABSTAIES 
 
 N the first place," said Doris, "do 
 you really mean to say that you are 
 truly an English lord — a peer of 
 the realm?" 
 
 "I do really and truly mean to 
 say that," answered the passenger, 
 his blue eyes gleaming with as much of an honest 
 glow as was ever seen in eyes. " I am Henry, Lord 
 Crabstairs of Haviltree, Warwickshire. The family 
 estates once covered, I am told, ten thousand acres." 
 The butcher listened with interest. " Cattle ? " he 
 asked. 
 
 '' Oh, no," said the other ; " I don't care for cattle. 
 What I like is poultry. Just before I left England 
 I had the finest lot of poultry you ever saw — all 
 blooded, with pedigrees. And bees, twenty-seven 
 hives of bees, and each one with its name painted 
 on it in a different color from the rest — 'Daisy,' 
 'Clover,' 'Daffodil,' and so on. The bees could n't 
 read the names, you know, but each one knew his 
 hive by the color of the letters." 
 
 " This is the first time I ever heard," said Captain 
 Garnish, " that there was twenty-seven colors." 
 
 61 
 
THE MEBET CHANTER. 65 
 
 "Oh, bless you!" cried the Englishman, "it is easy- 
 enough to manage that. On one hive the letters were 
 all red, and on another they were all blue, and on 
 another half were red and half blue, and so on. In 
 that way I made the colors go round, you know." 
 
 " You ought to have painted your bees," remarked 
 Captain Timon, " and then there could n't have been 
 no mistake. If you saw a red bee goin' into a blue 
 hive you could have picked him up and put him into 
 the right hole." 
 
 " No need of that, no need of that ! " cried the 
 Englishman. " The bees attend to that. They kill 
 them if they make a mistake, you know. And 
 there are lots of other things I like, such as flower- 
 beds and a kitchen garden. Nothing sets me up, 
 you know, like working in the kitchen garden. 
 And a cow. Every morning I curried and brushed 
 my cow until she shone like a sealskin. That cow 
 knew me like a brother. If she happened to be out 
 of sight in the copse, all I had to do was to drum 
 on the bottom of a tin paU, and she would come 
 running to be milked and to get her bit of cabbage 
 leaf." 
 
 The company looked wonderingly at one another. 
 Was this the usual way of life with British peers ? 
 
 " When all that happened," continued the speaker, 
 "I was the happiest man in the United Kingdom. 
 Forty years old, sound of wind and limb, no wife 
 nor child nor any one depending on me, a nice little 
 house in the prettiest part of Bucks County, with 
 a great copper beech in front of my door that the 
 earl himself would have given a thousand pounds. 
 
66 THE MEMBT CHANTER. 
 
 for if it could have been taken up and planted in 
 his park, with a little green as smooth as velvet 
 where I used to feed my fowls, and the brightest 
 flower-beds and the earliest peas within twelve miles 
 of Aylesbury. I have a little income from my 
 mother's family, and that kept things going, and 
 from break of day till ten o'clock at night there 
 could n't be a jollier fellow than I was. 
 
 " "Well, madam, and all of you, it was on a beau- 
 tiful morning this spring, with the grass greener 
 and more flowers in blossom and the peas more 
 forward than I had ever known them before at 
 .that time of year, not to speak of a little calf as 
 like to her mother as two pins of different sizes, 
 when I was sitting in front of my cottage in the 
 shade of the beech, with my morning pipe and mug 
 of ale, that there came to me two men, — attorneys 
 they were from London, who had driven over frofli 
 the railway station in a dog-cart, — and they lost -no 
 time in saying that their errand was to inform me 
 that by the death of the late lamented Godfrey, Lord 
 Crabstairs, I was now Henry, Lord Crabstairs of 
 Haviltree. 
 
 " As you may well imagine, I jumped up in a rage 
 at hearing this. ' None of your lies ! ' I cried. ' Lord 
 Godfrey may be dead or he may not b6 dead, but 
 whichever he is, he has a son and a grandson, legal 
 issue. You need not suppose that I have not kept 
 my eye on aU that.' ' That may be,' said the speaking 
 attorney; 'but your eye did n't keep the son from 
 falling overboard from a coUier in the Mersey, and 
 his infant son from dying two weeks ago of cholera 
 
THE MEBBY CHANTER. 67 
 
 infantum, without issue. Whereupon, by the death 
 of old Lord Godfrey yesterday morning, you are 
 Lord Crabstairs and no mistake.' 
 
 " Now then," said the Englishman, looking briskly 
 around at his auditors, "I was so angry that I was 
 ready to knock down those two men right and left. 
 But in England it does not do to lay hands on law 
 folk. I was weU up in this Crabstairs succession, 
 you know. I had studied it aU my life, and with 
 two good lives between me and the title I felt safe. 
 But how could any man imagine that such beastly 
 luck was coming to him! You see the Crabstairs 
 have been loaded with an inherited debt for a long, 
 long time back, and for a hundred and fifty years 
 there has not been a lord of the estate who has lived 
 at Haviltree. Every man-jack of them, as soon as 
 he came into the title, was clapped into jail for debt. 
 There was no getting out of it except by running 
 away; which some of them did. 
 
 " The inherited debt, you know, was bigger than 
 any Crabstairs could pay. The second son of old 
 Lord Godfrey took time by the forelock and ran 
 away to the Philippine Islands, where he married 
 a native wife and brought up a large family. But 
 he never had anything but a heathen marriage, for 
 fear that his elder brother might die without issue 
 and misery might come upon his wife's children." 
 
 " That was true Christianity," said Captain Teel, 
 solemnly. 
 
 " ' Now,' said the speaking attorney to me, ' my 
 lord,' said he — ' Don't my lord me ! ' I shouted. ' I 
 renounce the title ! I have nothing to do with these 
 
68 THK MERBT CHANTEJi. 
 
 Crabstairs ' I am eleven removes from the mainline.' 
 ' You can't renounce the title, my lord,' said he. ' You 
 are the heir-at-law, and there is no getting out of it.' 
 Now the second attorney, who had n't said anything 
 so far, spoke up. He took a paper out of his pocket. 
 ' Henry, Lord Crabstairs of Haviltree, Warwickshire,' 
 said he, ' I arrest you for debt in the amount of two 
 hundred and eighty thousand pounds, seven shill- 
 ings, and sixpence ha'penny. And we brought over 
 a constable in the dog-cart, so the easier you make 
 things the better.' 
 
 " On hearing this I hurled my pint pot at one 
 attorney and my pipe at the other, and making a 
 dash at the beehives which stood near by, I kicked 
 over a dozen of them. A black cloud of savage 
 stingers came howling oftt, and as I sprang away — 
 not one of them after me, for they knew their 
 master — I heard behind me such a cursing and 
 swearing and screaming as nearly split my ears. I 
 darted into the garden, through the pea-patch, and 
 over the back fence, and made across country, at a 
 pace those law people could n't think of keeping up, 
 to the railway station. I caught a train, went to 
 town, drew all my little income that was due, and 
 took passage for America. 
 
 " And here I am, knowing nothing in the world of 
 what has become of my dear home, my cow and my 
 calf, of my flower-beds and my kitchen garden, of 
 my beautiful flock of poultry, or of the bees and 
 the attorneys. I have l6ft everything behind me; 
 but there is one thought that makes up for a lot of 
 what has happened, and that is that for the first time 
 
THE MEBBY CSANTME. 69 
 
 in many a long year there is no Lord Crabstairs in 
 jail for debt. And what is more," he said, rising to 
 his feet, and his blue eyes sparkling with honest 
 indignation, "there never will be, so long as I am 
 alive ! " 
 
 At this Captain Garnish came forward and shook 
 the Englishman by the hand, and his example was 
 immediately followed by the other captains and by 
 the schoolmaster. 
 
 " I can feel for you," said the latter, " as one who 
 flees from tyranny. May you never be overtaken ! " 
 
 The butcher did not shake hands. That was not his 
 way. He stood up very straight and said: "May I 
 "be chopped and sawed, bone-drawed and skewered, if 
 I 'd live in a country where a man can be made a lord 
 without his having a word to say about it ! If I found 
 myself in that fix, sir, debt or no debt, jaU or no jail, 
 I 'd cut and run ! I say you did the square thing, sir ! " 
 
 "Do you intend," asked Doris, who had listened 
 with eager earnestness to the Englishman's story, 
 "to continue to call yourself Lord Crabstairs?" 
 
 "Of course I do," said the other. "That is my 
 name, and I shall not disown it. I don't wish to 
 sail under false colors ; and more than that, so long 
 as it is known that I am alive and holding the 
 title they can't nab any other poor fellow, perhaps 
 with a family." 
 
 "Very good," said Doris; "we understand your 
 case perfectly. And now," she continued, turning to 
 Captain Timon, " let us set sail." 
 
vin 
 
 DOLOR TKIPP 
 
 UT Captain Timon was not yet ready 
 to set sail. The business of water- 
 carrying had not gone on in the 
 afternoon, for the reason that the 
 spring had become muddy by much 
 dipping and required some time in 
 which to settle and purify itself. Two casks had 
 been left there, so it was absolutely necessary that 
 a boat should go after them, and it was now too late 
 in the day to make an advantageous trip. 
 
 I think Doris's impatience would have proved 
 beyond her control had not she become interested 
 in a plan proposed by Lord Crabstairs. That noble- 
 man was of an exceedingly lively and practical dis- 
 position, and took a great interest in his contemplated 
 sea voyage to Boston. He had come into this part of 
 the country without other aim than to escape cities, 
 which he hated ; and he would not now be going to 
 Boston but for the opportunity of going by sea. He 
 was very fond of the sea, and when he had seen our 
 anchored ship he had been fascinated by the idea of 
 sailing somewhere in her. 
 
THE MEEBT CHANTER. 71 
 
 His desire now was to plunge boldly into sailor life, 
 to pull on ropes, to climb the mastiiead, and aU that 
 sort of thing, and he had been very much taken 
 aback when the schoolmaster informed him that 
 nothing of the kind would be allowed. 
 
 " If you pay your passage," said the schoolmaster, 
 "they will not let you do any work at aU; and if 
 you sail gratis, so to speak, you can only do enough 
 to pay for your meals." 
 
 The prospect of sailing without occupation appeared 
 dull to Lord Crabstairs, nor did the offer of the school- 
 master sometimes to allow him to attend to the sand- 
 piper promise much relief. But his mind was as quick 
 and active as his body. 
 
 " By George ! " he cried, " I don't care for birds 
 like that; but I will keep poultry. Fresh eggs 
 every morning, and roast fowl for dinner. I will go 
 on shore at daybreak to-morrow and buy some." 
 
 The butcher here remarked that if fowls were to be 
 kiUed he would furnish the tools, but that was all he 
 would do, as he had gone out of that business. 
 
 Our detentions in port had had the effect of mak- 
 ing Doris feel the need of occupation, and she gladly 
 welcomed the poidtry scheme. Of course there would 
 not be time on the voyage to hatch out little chickens ; 
 but she determined, if it were possible, to purchase for 
 herself a hen with a young brood. 
 
 The discussion regarding this new scheme proved 
 interesting, and the captains gave thejl* full consent. 
 The enthusiastic nobleman went so far as to suggest 
 the purchase of a few hives of bees, but this proposal 
 met with no favor. A cow was spoken of, but here 
 
72 THE MERBT OHANTMR. 
 
 the butcher vehemently objected. The time might 
 come, he said, when she would have to be slaugh- 
 tered, and he vowed he would not sail in company 
 with a cow that might have to be slaughtered. 
 
 The first thing I saw when I cast my eyes land- 
 ward the next morning was Lord Crabstairs hurry- 
 ing over the hillocks towards the shore, and carrying 
 a pair of full-grown fowls with each hand. He had 
 rowed himself ashore, and now returned with his 
 prizes. 
 
 " There they are ! " he cried, as soon as he reached 
 the deck. "Three hens and a cock! That was all 
 the woman would sell, but she said we might get 
 young chicks at a house about a mile farther inland. 
 I will go there directly I 've eaten breakfast. And 
 now what are we to do with them? Of course it 
 won't do to put up a high fence all around the deck. 
 But I dare say they know as well as we do that they 
 can't swim, and so will not jump overboard. Any- 
 way, here goes to see what will happen." And he cut 
 the cords which bound their legs. 
 
 Instantly the four fowls began to rush madly here 
 and there, screaming and fluttering their wings. The 
 cock flew half way up one of the shrouds of the 
 mainmast, and sat there crowing and evidently 
 highly excited, while the three hens went screaming 
 down the open hatchway on the forward deck, and 
 then after some wild careering flew down another 
 hatchway into the hold among the ballast. 
 
 " That will do very well," said Lord Crabstairs. " I 
 will throw them down some bread, and there they 
 can stay until we have mustered the rest of the 
 

 THE MEBBT CHANTER. 73 
 
 flock. As for the cock, if he likes rope ladder^, he 
 is welcome to stop there for the present." 
 
 " It is a good thing he is not an egg layer," said 
 the schoolmaster. 
 
 After breakfast Lord Crabstairs, accompanied by 
 Doris, who wished to select her own brood, and 
 by myself and the butcher, went on shore on an 
 expedition after poultry. 
 
 The house to which we directed our steps was 
 about a mile and a half from our landing-place, and 
 when we had approached near enough to get a good 
 view of it we found it to be a dark, somber building 
 without a tree near it except a great pine, which grew 
 so close to one corner that it seemed like a part of 
 the house. As we drew nearer, Doris remarked that 
 it looked more like a prison than a farm-house. 
 
 At this Lord Crabstairs laughed loud, and said 
 he hoped we should not find it full of jaU-birds, as 
 those were not the ornithological specimens we were 
 after. 
 
 As we drew nearer, the resemblance to a prison 
 increased. A high pale fence surrounded the house 
 yard, and we could see that there were iron bars to 
 the windows. The narrow gate which opened upon 
 the road was locked, but a man was at work inside, 
 and he came and opened it. When we told him our 
 errand he at first hesitated, and then said we mnst go 
 and ask at the house. 
 
 In a body we went up a grass- grown brick path to 
 
 the front door, where we knocked. A more dreary 
 
 looking house I never stood before. The building 
 
 itself had a certain air of importance, but the sur- 
 
 7 
 
74 THE MEBBY CHANTER. 
 
 rounding grounds did not accord with any such air. 
 They were flat, bare, and covered with scrubby grass ; 
 not a flower-bed nor border, nor even a rose bush. 
 The thin grass which covered the house yard had 
 recently been cut, and the man was now raking it 
 into meager little piles of hay. A few out-buildings 
 at a short distance were separated from this yard by 
 a high fence and a gate. The building itself was 
 destitute of any attempt at ornament, not having even 
 a piazza. 
 
 After we had waited some minutes the door was 
 opened as far as a stout chain would allow, and the 
 form of a tall woman appeared at the aperture. She 
 wore a black-and-white striped sunbonnet. We saw 
 more of this sunbonnet than of her face. 
 
 Doris stepped forward and stated our errand. The 
 woman listened, and then, remarking that she would 
 see, shut the door with a bang. 
 
 " Polite, that ! " said Lord Crabstairs. " I dare say 
 she is a female convict." 
 
 The door was not opened again, but presently there 
 came around the corner another woman, also wearing 
 a black-and-white sunbonnet ; but she was shorter and 
 had a pleasanter voice than the other. 
 
 "If it 's chickens you want," she said, "you can 
 come this way. We have some to sell." She led the 
 way through a gate to a poultry-yard, where she 
 showed us a variety of fowls, not one of which, 
 Lord Crabstairs declared, possessed a single drop of 
 pure blood. He selected, however, a half-dozen of 
 the best specimens, and Doris bought a hen with 
 nine little chicks, together with the coop, which, with 
 
THE MEBBY CBANTER. 75 
 
 its occupants, the butcher and I undertook to carry to 
 the boat. 
 
 While we were engaged in making our purchases 
 another woman came out to the chicken-yard. She 
 also wore a black-and-white sunbonnet, but she was 
 younger than the two others, and her face was quite 
 pretty. Her countenance had a pensive expression, 
 but her large gray eyes were quick and alert, and 
 moved with interest and curiosity from one member 
 of our party to another. She did not speak during 
 the selection and bargaining, but observed every- 
 thing that was done and listened to everything that 
 was said. 
 
 When we were leaving the poultry-yard she 
 stepped up to Doris and said: "I am glad you 
 wanted chickens. I have not seen a stranger since 
 March." 
 
 Delighted to have this opportunity given her to ask 
 questions, Doris asked questions without stint. 
 
 " Yes," answered the young woman, '' my two sis- 
 ters and I live here all alone by ourselves. This high 
 fence and the iron bars to the lower windows are to 
 keep out burglars. Alwilda — she is the one who 
 came to the front door — and Lizeth — that one over 
 there with the chickens — are very much afraid of 
 burglars. There is no man in the house. Our hired 
 man sleeps in the barn. Alwilda locks the two yard- 
 gates herself every night, so he is shut out just the 
 same as everybody else. My name is Dolor — Dolor 
 Tripp. Tripp is our family name. Yes, it is dread- 
 fully lonely. We don't do anything but just live here, 
 except Alwilda ; she paints." 
 
76 THE MERBY CHANTER. 
 
 "Paints!" exclaimed Doris in surprise, recalling 
 tlie figure of the tall woman in the black-and-white 
 sunboanet. 
 
 " Yes," replied Dolor Tripp. " She paints pictures 
 on the dining-room walls. She has gone only haJf 
 round the room, and she has been years and years 
 at it. Sometimes she paints things she sees, and 
 sometimes things she remembers. The things she 
 remembers are done better than the things she sees. 
 She never goes outside this yard." 
 
 "And you?" asked Doris. "Have you nothing to 
 occupy your time ? " 
 
 "Not a thing," replied the young woman, "except 
 housework, and that does n't couitt. I should like 
 the chickens, but Lizeth attends to them. I hardly 
 ever see neighbors or strangers. The minute I heard 
 that there were people here to buy chickens I came 
 straight out. I am glad to see anybody." 
 
 I had joined the group, and noticed that at these 
 words a smile appeared on the hitherto somewhat 
 pensive countenance of the speaker. She looked 
 around and perceived that her sister and Lord 
 Crabstairs had gone to a little distance to look at 
 some ducks. 
 
 "Do you know," she said, "that over and over 
 agaia I have felt glad that that pine tree is growing 
 so close to the corner of the house. It never enters 
 the minds of Alwilda and Lizeth that there is any 
 danger in it, but you can see for yourselves that if 
 a burglar once got into the yard he could go up that 
 tree just the same as a ladder, and get into that 
 second-story window. I have sat up half the night 
 
THE MERRY CHANTER. 77 
 
 wondering if a burglar ever would come up that 
 tree." 
 
 " Do you mean to say," I asked, " that your feeling 
 of loneliness is so great that you would even be glad 
 to see a burglar?" 
 
 " I don't exactly say that I would be glad to see 
 one," answered Dolor, " but it would be a change." 
 
 " You must indeed be lonely," said Doris, looking 
 upon the girl with earnest sympathy, " if you consider 
 a burglar better than nobody." 
 
 Doris looked at Dolor Tripp for a few moments, 
 and then suddenly turned to me with a light upon 
 her face. She drew me aside, and whispered: "A 
 glittering idea has just struck me. Suppose we pro- 
 pose to her to go with us! A voyage to Boston 
 would do her no end of good; and when we came 
 back we could leave her here just as well as not. 
 Shall I ask her?" 
 
 There was a deference in these concluding words 
 which greatly pleased me. As a rule I did not desire 
 any more women on the Merry Chanter, but this case 
 was exceptional. The passage money of the young 
 woman would be of service, it would be an excellent 
 thing for Doris to have a suitable person of her own 
 sex on board, and it would be true charity to give 
 this poor girl a chance to see something of the world. 
 As to her being a stranger to us, that did not matter. 
 Most of us were comparative strangers to one another, 
 and it is not customary to inquire into the character 
 and family antecedents of passengers to Boston. 
 
 When Doris made her suggestion to Dolor Tripp 
 the eyes of the latter opened wide and sparkled. 
 
78 THE MEBRY CBANTEB. 
 
 "Gro to Boston?" she cried. "In a ship? With 
 you? Go? "Why, I would go if I had to sell my 
 hair! But Alwilda will never agree. Lizeth may — 
 I don't know ; but you can't move Alwilda one inch. 
 But don't suppose I am not going," she added quickly. 
 " Nothing would ever happen if you waited for Alwilda 
 to agree. When do you start ? " 
 
 "We ought to set sail," said Doris, "very soon 
 after we get to the ship. I suppose all the water 
 must be on board by this time." 
 
 "Oh, dear!" said Dolor Tripp. "That would be 
 dreadfully soon. I don't see how I could manage 
 it." 
 
 During our conversation with the young woman 
 the butcher had been standing by, silent but obser- 
 vant. He now stepped forward. "I don't believe, 
 ma'am," he said, addressing Doris, " that we can sail 
 as soon as we get back. The skipper wants to go 
 out on the ebb, and it must have been high tide 
 two hours ago, so that by the time we are aboard 
 and everythin' is ready there won't be much ebb tide 
 to go out on ; and it won't be high water again until 
 after dark to-night. So you see Cap'n Timon is more 
 than likely to want to wait till to-morrow mornin' 
 anyway." 
 
 " Well," said Doris, " there is n't really any reason 
 why we should be in a hurry. Boston will keep, I 've 
 no doubt. And if Captain Timon thinks it is better to 
 wait until to-morrow morning, of course we can wait 
 until then. Will that suit you ? " she said to Dolor 
 Tripp, whose countenance was now glowing with 
 excitement. 
 
THE MEBBY CHASTER. 79 
 
 " That will be time enough," was the answer. " I 
 shall know all about it this afternoon." 
 
 " Can you send us word," asked Doris, " so we may- 
 know whether or not to expect you ? " 
 
 Dolor Tripp looked a little embarrassed, but before 
 she could speak the butcher said to her, " Have you a 
 clock in your house ? " 
 
 " Of course we have," she answered promptly. 
 
 "Well, then," said he, "if you will have a note 
 ready at six o'clock precisely I '11 come here and 
 get it." 
 
 " Very well," said Dolor Tripp ; " I 'U have it ready. 
 It will be better for you to go to the lower end of the 
 yard, and I '11 hand the note to you through the pal- 
 ings. The gate is directly in front of the dining-room 
 mndows." 
 
 Lord Crabstairs and Lizeth now returned to us, 
 his lordship having given up the idea of buying 
 ducks, because there would be no way of allowing 
 them to swim except by lowering them from the 
 ship by means of a long cord; and this would be 
 feasible only when we were at anchor. The butcher 
 and I now took up the coop containing the hen and 
 chickens, our disengaged hands each bearing a pair 
 of fowls, while his lordship carried the rest of the 
 purchased poultry, gallantly declining to allow Doris 
 to bear the weight of even the smallest pullet. 
 
 We left behind us two happy sisters, one placidly 
 smiling over the results of an unusually profitable 
 sale, and the other glowing with the anticipation of 
 unknown joys. 
 
IX 
 
 THE MEBBT GB ANTES. AND THE Tn)E 
 
 LITTLE before dark that afternoon 
 the butcher appeared before Doris 
 and me on the after portion of the 
 deck and made his report. 
 
 "I got to that house," he said, 
 " at a quarter before six ; and as I 
 was a little ahead of time I waited outside the 
 pale fence, keeping some bushes between me and 
 the house. Pretty soon that Dolor sister came out 
 and began walking straight down to the comer of 
 the fence ; but before she got there the Lizeth sister 
 she came out, and then the Dolor sister she turned 
 straight towards the chicken-yard, and going inside 
 the feed-house she came out with her apron full of 
 corn and began feeding the chickens right and left 
 like mad ; and the Lizeth sister she called out to her 
 to stop wasting corn that way, and she went and took 
 the corn from her and began to attend to the chick- 
 ens herself. Then the Dolor sister she went walking 
 about picking the weed blossoms, throwing 'em down 
 again and picking more, and all the time moving 
 down towards the fence ; and the minute the Lizeth 
 sister locked the poultry-yard and went into the 
 house the Dolor one came straight to the corner 
 
THE MERBT CBANTEB. 81 
 
 where she said she 'd meet me, and there I was. She 
 put this note between the palings, and says she, ' Is 
 there any way of getting a trunk from this house 
 to your ship to-night ? ' ' Unbeknown ? ' says I. ' Yes,' 
 said she; 'at least nobody here must know it.' 'Then 
 you are going with us to Boston?' says I. 'Yes, 
 indeed, I am,' says she ; ' but there will be no trouble 
 about me. It 's only the trunk.' ' Then your sisters 
 are not willing?' says I. 'They would n't be if I 
 told 'em,' says she, 'and so I don't intend to tell 'em. 
 They have n't the least right in the world over me, 
 for I am of age ; but they 'd make a lot of trpuble if 
 they knew I wanted to go to Boston, and I don't 
 want to have any more trouble than I can help 
 having.' ' When will your trunk be ready ? ' says I, 
 ' and where will it be ? ' ' There 's an empty one in 
 a lower room,' says she ; ' and after it gets pitch-dark 
 I can put it outside by the back door," and then I can 
 bring my things down and put them in it, but I can't 
 move it after that.' 'At what time will it be all 
 packed and locked and at the back door?' says I. 
 'Certainly by twelve o'clock,' says she. 'Then at 
 one o'clock,' says I, 'it will be on board the ship.' 
 'That is beautiful,' says she; 'and as soon as the 
 lower gate is unlocked for the hired man in the 
 morning, I '11 walk through the chicken-yard and 
 around the sand hills till I am out of sight of the 
 house and then go straight to the shore.' 'Where 
 there '11 be a boat to meet you,' says I. Then she 
 said she supposed I was the cap'n, and on being told 
 not thanked me all the same and left sharp. And 
 here 's the note." 
 
82 THE MEBBY CSANTEB. 
 
 With the exception of the statement that the 
 writer would bring money to pay her passage, the 
 note contained nothing that the butcher had not 
 told us. 
 
 " I like her spirit," said Doris. " If she is of age 
 there is no reason why she should n't go to Boston, 
 or anywhere else she wants to. But how in the world 
 is her trunk to be got here? The gates will be 
 locked." 
 
 " The schoolmaster and me," said the butcher, 
 "will attend to the trunk. He won't be afraid to 
 go on shore when it is pitch-dark, and I '11 take a 
 bull's-eye lantern to use when needed." 
 
 This being settled, Doris and I went below to 
 arrange for the accommodation of the new-comer. 
 There was a little cabin back of our own, which we 
 appropriated to Dolor Tripp. Its space was extremely 
 limited, but we could do no better for her. 
 
 Lord Crabstairs had been so exceedingly busy in 
 arranging accommodations for the poultry on the 
 deck, and in endeavoring to entice from the rig- 
 ging the cock which had first arrived on board, that 
 he did not know of the arrangements that had been 
 made for the transfer of the baggage of Dolor Tripp. 
 Otherwise, as he informed us next morning, he 
 would have been on hand, for a lark like that was 
 much to his liking. 
 
 The butcher and the schoolmaster must have had 
 a hard time with the trunk, but they succeeded in 
 getting it over the high fence, and by one o'clock, 
 as had been promised, it was on board the Merry 
 Chanter. 
 
THE MEBBY CHANTER. 83 
 
 Doris and I arose very early the next morning, and 
 it could not have been more than half-past six when 
 we beheld Dolor Tripp coming down to the shore 
 with a parasol in one hand and a little leather bag in 
 the other. Lord Crabstairs was standing near us, 
 and the moment his eyes fell upon her he gave a 
 jump. 
 
 " I '11 take a boat and fetch her," said he. "I can do 
 that much, anyway." 
 
 " Stop ! " cried Doris. " I do not think that would 
 be fair. After all the butcher's trouble about her he 
 should have the pleasure of bringing her over in 
 the boat." 
 
 " I don't quite see the point of that," said Lord Crab- 
 stairs. " ' Turn about is fair play.' " 
 
 " That would be no turn about at all," said Doris ; 
 " but we have no time to argue this matter, for Dolor 
 Tripp wUl get down to the water's edge and find 
 nobody to bring her over. So, as I command the Merry 
 Chanter, and everybody in it, I am obliged to say to 
 you. Lord Crabstairs, that you cannot go after that 
 young woman unless the butcher is willing." 
 
 It struck me that this was a moment when a wotfd 
 from me seemed to be called for, but I could not make 
 up my mind what sort of word to speak. 
 
 Lord Crabstairs made a very low bow. " Madam," 
 said he, " I submit ; and I will go find the butcher and 
 see if he will give me his chance." 
 
 In about a minute the butcher appeared from below, 
 and made instant preparations to descend into the 
 boat which was tied to the schooner's stern. " It will 
 be much better," he said, " for some one who knows 
 
84 THE MERET CHANTEB. 
 
 her to go after her. She may not like to be brought 
 over by a stranger." 
 
 " ' Know her ! ' ' Stranger ! ' Bedad, I like that ! " 
 ejaculated Lord Crabstairs, as the butcher rowed 
 away. "He rows very well for a butcher, now, 
 does n't he? I don't believe a man who rows as 
 well as that can be a very good butcher. Now, do 
 you. Madam?" 
 
 "I do declare," exclaimed Doris, without paying 
 any attention to this inquiry, " she really does seem 
 delighted to see him ! And I am so glad she has on 
 that pretty straw hat. I was afraid she would come in 
 her black-and-white sunbonnet." 
 
 The shore was but a short distance away, aud very 
 soon Dolor Tripp was on board the Merry Chanter. 
 She was cordially received by the owners, the four 
 captains, and the passengers, and shook hands all 
 round. 
 
 " And now," cried Doris, " we must up anchor, 
 hoist sail, and be away without loss of time.' I long 
 to be out on the rolling deep." 
 
 But Captain Timon shook his head. "The tide 
 does n't serve this momin'. Madam," said he. 
 
 " Oh, bother the tide ! " cried Doris. " I never saw 
 anything like it. But I beg you will make a start 
 the instant it does serve." And with this she took 
 Dolor Tripp down below to show her the arrange- 
 ments that had been made for her accommodation. 
 
 Lord Crabstairs, who was an active fellow, now 
 mounted aloft to compel the truant cock to get down 
 from its elevated position in the rigging, while the 
 schoolmaster, carrying the sandpiper in its cage, 
 
THE MERRY CHANTER. 85 
 
 appeared on deck and proceeded to give the usual 
 morning attentions to the wounded bird. 
 
 The butcher, his hands in his pockets and an ex- 
 pression of. earnest thought on his face, came after 
 me. Meeting me at the extreme stern of the vessel, 
 he said in a low voice : " Do you know that I have 
 got some ideas about this schooner ? "We have been 
 lying here more than three days, and in all that time 
 I don't believe she 's moved around with the tide 
 any more than that stump there on shore has moved 
 around with it. Tide in and tide out, twice a day 
 each way, and she 's been lying here with her bow- 
 sprit pointing out to sea and her rudder pointing 
 into shore with never a shift one way or the other. 
 Now it stands to reason, I take it, that if a schooner 
 like this could move with the tide she would move 
 with it ; and as she does n't move with it, it stands to 
 reason she can't move with it." 
 
 " I never thought of that ! " I exclaimed in surprise. 
 " But, since you speak of it, I believe it is so. "What 
 do you suppose it means ? " 
 
 " Means ?" replied the butcher, looking around him 
 and speaking in lower tones. " I '11 tell you what I 
 believe it means. I think that we are stuck fast to 
 the bottom of this bay. "When they first came in 
 they put out their anchor, and then the schooner, 
 most likely, swung around on to a sand bar, and 
 stuck tight and fast. If she has n't done that, what 's 
 to hinder her moving with the tide ? " 
 
 "But the captains?" I said. "If the ship were 
 aground they would mention it. They would do 
 something." 
 8 
 
86 THE MEBBY CBANTEB. 
 
 " They are not much on the mention," said the 
 butcher; " and as to do, they 've been hoping every 
 high tide would float her off. I would have been on 
 deck this morning when the Dolor sister showed 
 on shore if I had n't been listening to the cap'ns' 
 talk about some particular high tide that comes with 
 a particular quarter of the moon. I was called off 
 and did n't make out what quarter it was, but I 
 believe they 're waiting for it." 
 
 " If that is the case," said I, " I hope most earnestly 
 that it is not far off." 
 
 " There 's no knowing," said the butcher, rather 
 lugubriously. " I don't care to ask 'em about it, 
 for it 's their business to sail the ship, not mine. 
 But there 's one thing I do know, and that is when 
 an old schooner like this, with some seventy cart- 
 loads of paving stones inside of her, and barnacles 
 outside that will weigh about as much, settles on a 
 sand bank, she 'U want a special high tide to come 
 along at its earliest convenience if she ever expects to 
 float at all." 
 
 I gazed gloomily over the stern. The little boat 
 was gently pulling at her painter as the tide impelled 
 her seaward, but the Merry Chanter kept its position 
 like a Horse Guard on sentry duty. "At any rate," 
 I said, " it will be of no use to worry the ladies with 
 our conjectures." 
 
 "I am with you there," said the butcher. "It 
 would n't be my way to trouble them or anybody 
 else. But it strikes me that we '11 find things pretty 
 crooked when we eat up all our provisions before 
 we 've sailed an inch to Boston, and the news gets 
 
THE MEBBY CHANTER. 87 
 
 around tliat we 're aground in Shankashank Bay, 
 and Mrs. Bodship comes after the schoolmaster, and 
 either carries him off, and perhaps Cap'n Cyrus too, 
 or else stays on board herself, which would be an 
 everlasting sight worse, and the Alwilda sister and 
 the Lizeth sister come after Dolor Tripp, and Lord 
 Crabstairs gets kidnapped for the family debts while 
 wandering on shore." 
 
LORD CRABSTAIRS AND THE BUTCHER 
 
 5IAKE AN AGREEMENT 
 
 WHEN Dolor Tripp came 
 on deck after breakfast 
 on the morning of her arrival 
 on board the Merry Chant er 
 she was in a state of 
 intense delight with 
 ^•?^3 her surroundings. She 
 "^Mf.-; was going to sea in a 
 ship! She had been 
 on the bay in a boat, 
 but never on the sea 
 Captain Bodship. j^ ^ ship ! And what 
 
 was this for — and that ? And how different the air 
 was, even such a little way from shore ! 
 
 When Doris told her how we came to own the 
 Merry Chanter, and had talked to her about the four 
 ,captains, and about the butcher, and about Lord 
 Crabstairs, and about the schoolmaster. Dolor Tripp 
 declared that that ship was the most interesting place 
 she had ever been in in her whole life. 
 
 She was in no hurry to stai-t, and was perfectly 
 willing to wait for the tide. Being on board the ship 
 was joy enough for the present. She asked questions 
 
THE MEBBY CHANTER. 89 
 
 about every part of the vessel ; and althougli the four 
 captains would have been the proper persons to an- 
 swer these questions, these experienced mariners 
 were not allowed the opportunity of so doing. Lord 
 Crabstairs and the butcher always happened to be 
 near at hand when Dolor Tripp wanted to know 
 anything; and sometimes both answered her ques- 
 tion in the same instant, while sometimes one got a 
 little ahead of the other. 
 
 Towards noon, however, I noticed that Dolor Tripp 
 was walking about the after portion of the ship 
 accompanied only by Lord Crabstairs, and soon 
 afterwards I found that he and the butcher had 
 come to an agreement on the subject. A chalk line 
 had been drawn across the deck midway between the 
 bow and the stern, and it had been settled that Lord 
 Crabstairs should explain to Dolor Tripp everything 
 aft of that line, while the butcher should have the 
 privilege of being her guide over that portion of 
 the schooner which lay forward of the line. By this 
 amicable arrangement annoying interferences would 
 be avoided. 
 
 Lord Crabstairs, with his glowing, ruddy face, and 
 his sparkling blue eyes, was in a very good humor as 
 he told his companion everything he knew about the 
 a.fter portion of the ship, and a great deal, I am sure, 
 that he did not know. But want of knowledge did 
 not interfere in the least with the fluency of his merry 
 talk, nor with her enjoyment. 
 
 For some time the butcher had been below, but 
 now he came up and informed Doris and me that 
 he had been consulting with Captain Cyrus, and 
 
90 THE MEBMY CHANTER. 
 
 getting as much information as possible in regard to 
 foremasts and bowsprits, with their attachments and 
 surroundings, so that when his turn to guide the 
 young woman should come he would be able to give 
 her points that might be depended upon. When he 
 and Lord Crabstairs had tossed up for the two por- 
 tions into which the ship had been divided by the 
 chalk line he had been very glad that the bow end 
 had fallen to him. 
 
 " Passengers," said he, " are mostly at sterns, and 
 bows are newer to them. And, besides, the Merry 
 Chanter is on my end, and I intend to come out 
 strong on that dilapidated old party. I think she 's 
 the kind of young woman to take to things that are 
 on the romantic." 
 
 But he did not intend to begin with her as soon as 
 Lord Crabstairs had finished. No, indeed! He was 
 too deep for that ! He would take her when she was 
 fresh, and not so bored with ropes and spars that she did 
 not wish to hear such things even so much as mentioned. 
 
 It was yet early in the afternoon, and we were 
 enjoying ourselves idly on deck, some reading, some 
 smoking and talking, and nearly all of us in the 
 shade of the mainsail, which had been partly hoisted 
 to serve the purpose of an awning. Even the butcher 
 was content to gaze quietly out at sea, for, in his 
 opinion. Dolor Tripp had not yet suflciently recov- 
 ered from her ordeal of the morning properly to 
 enjoy his interesting accounts of the nautical ob- 
 jects forward of the chalk line. Suddenly there came 
 from landward a shrill voice; and the voice cried, 
 "Do— lo r!" 
 
THE MEBBY CHANTER. 91 
 
 Instantly we all sprang to our feet, bobbed under 
 the boom, and ran for the stern of the schooner. On 
 shore, close to the water's edge, stood a woman in a 
 black-and-white sunbonnet, who was easily recognized 
 by those who had seen her before as Lizeth of the 
 poultry-yard. 
 
 Again came the voice across the water: "Dol — or! 
 Are you on that ship ? " 
 
 Dolor Tripp stood on tiptoe and showed herself 
 well above the bulwarks. "Don't you see me, Liz- 
 eth?" she cried. 
 
 The distance between the ship and the shore was 
 not great ; and as there was but little wind the clear, 
 high voices of the sisters were distinctly heard across 
 the intervening space. 
 
 " Where-are-you-going ? " cried Lizeth. 
 
 " I-am-going-to-Boston," replied her sister. 
 
 " How-long-do-you-expect-to-stay ? " cried Lizeth. 
 
 Dolor Tripp turned to Doris. " How long do you 
 think," she said, " that the ship will stay in Boston ? 
 You know I want to come back in it." 
 
 " I really do not know," was the answer ; " but we 
 shall certainly stay long enough to take on board 
 some barrels of flour." 
 
 Then Dolor Tripp turned her face shoreward, and 
 hailed her sister. " I-do-not-know," she cried. "It- 
 depends-on-flour." 
 
 " What-flour ? " screamed Lizeth. 
 
 Dolor Tripp turned inquiringly. " Minnesota Fam- 
 ily Joy," said I, for want of better information to 
 give. 
 
 " Min-ne-so-ta-Fam-i-ly-Joy," screamed Dolor Tripp. 
 
92 THE MEBBY CHANTER: 
 
 Lizeth did not immediately resume her questions, 
 but after a few moments' thought she cried, "Why- 
 don't-you-start 1 " 
 
 " There -is - some - thing - the - matter - with - the - tide," 
 replied Dolor Tripp. 
 
 Here there was another pause in this high-strung 
 conversation, and several persons on board the Merry 
 Chanter looked at one another and smiled. 
 
 Lizeth now called out again, " WUl-you-get-me-in- 
 Boston-four-yards-of-the-inch-wide-black-and-white- 
 ribbon?" 
 
 " I-will ! " cried Dolor Tripp. " Does-AlwUda-know- 
 I-'ve-gone ? " 
 
 " Yes," called back Lizeth. " She-'s-begun-painting- 
 you-on-the-dining-room-wall. You-are-stretched-out- 
 drowned-on-the-sea- shore. Your-face-is-all-soaked- 
 and-there-'s- little- slimy- green-weeds- flappin'-against- 
 it. She-was- just-beginnin' -to -paint-a-puddle- under- 
 you-when-I-came-away. Good-bye ! " 
 
 " Now, is n't that mean ? " said Dolor Tripp, turning 
 a troubled countenance towards us, and then, sud- 
 denly recollecting herself, she called after her depart- 
 ing sister a shrUl, " Good-bye ! " 
 
 "I notice," remarked the butcher, as he cast a severe 
 look shoreward, " that she did n't say anything about 
 the weeds and the puddle till she 'd got in her black- 
 and-white ribbon." 
 
 In order to dissipate from her mind all thoughts of 
 the dismal picture of herself which was in course 
 of creation upon the dining-room wall of her home, 
 the butcher now invited Dolor Tripp to allow him 
 to show her that portion of the Merry Chanter which 
 
THE MEBMY CHANTEB. 93 
 
 lay forward of the chalk line. The invitation was 
 accepted, and from the general appearance of things 
 forward I think that Dolor Tripp's enjoyment was 
 troubled by no visions of soaked countenances. 
 
 The captains were on the forecastle, and as they 
 all knew something about Dolor Tripp or her family, 
 they had frequent snatches of talk about her. Lord 
 Crabstairs and the schoolmaster took to wandering 
 about the bow, but the former never uttered a word. 
 He had agreed that the butcher should take charge 
 of the lady on this part of the ship, and he religiously 
 forbore to speak. 
 
 When the butcher and his fair companion leaned 
 over the extreme bow, and he began to describe and 
 descant upon the wooden figure of the Merry Chanter, 
 Doris, who had gone forward, requested permission 
 to listen, which, being cheerfully granted, we all gath- 
 ered about the speaker. 
 
 It is astonishing how well that butcher talked about 
 our old figure-head. He let himself cut splendidly 
 about roaring winds and mountain waves, and driv- 
 ing rain and freezing sleet, and banks of blinding 
 fog, and yet ever that right arm, or what there was 
 left of it, was stuck straight out, and that head was 
 thrown back boldly, and that mouth was open ready 
 for song, or shout, or to take in sea-water, as the case 
 might be. 
 
 "He has been through it all, time and again," said 
 the butcher, in conclusion, "and he is ready for it 
 all over again, fair weather or foul, as long as those 
 iron bolts through his body hold him fast to the ship." 
 
 "I love him already," cried Dolor Tripp j "and 
 
94 THE MEBBT CHANTER. 
 
 as soon as we begin to plow the waves I am going 
 to stand in front here and see him do those things," 
 
 " Of course," remarked Captain Timon, " that will 
 depend on the principal owner" — waving his hand 
 towards Doris. "I have heard her say that she 
 wanted to stand abaft the figure-head when there 
 happened to be a good sea on." 
 
 " Oh, there will be room for us both," said Doris, who 
 had already begun to take very kindly to Dolor Tripp, 
 
XI 
 
 THE PROMENADE BATH 
 
 HE next morning after breakfast 
 Captain Timon made a little speech 
 to the assembled ship's company. 
 "I feel bound," he said, "to teU 
 you all that I 've been disapp'iuted 
 in the wind an' the tide. They are 
 two things which won't wait fur no man, but they 're 
 willin' enough to make any man wait fur them, an' 
 that 's not what I call the square thing." 
 
 "You are right there, Captain," said Lord Crab- 
 stairs ; " but the rascals have been at it aU their lives, 
 and it is too late to try to reform them." 
 
 "This schooner," continued the captain, "draws 
 a leetle more water than we thought she did. You 
 see none of us ever sailed in her before, an' she 
 draws a leetle more water than we thought she did. 
 An' then ag'in there 's a leetle less water in this bay 
 than there generally is at this season. You see when 
 we anchored here to get water out of that spring we 
 did n't know that the ship drawed so much, an' the 
 bay was so low." 
 
 " Then," interrupted Lord Crabstairs, "you should get 
 more water out of your spring and pour it into 
 your bay." 
 
 95 
 
96 THE MEBBY CHANTER. 
 
 Captain Timon joined in the laugh that followed 
 this remark, and then went on : 
 
 " What we want is a high wind, pretty nigh to a 
 gale, comin' in from sea along with the flood tide. 
 That will give us enough water to get out of this 
 bay, an' then we 're all right. That half-gale from 
 the sou'east is what we 're a-waitin' fur." 
 
 " That sort of gale,", said the butcher, " most gener- 
 ally comes in the fall of the year." 
 
 " That is autumn, is n't it ? " cried Lord Crabstairs. 
 " Now, really, that is three months off ,! " 
 
 " If you 'd sailed the sea as much as we have," said 
 Captain Timon, addressing the butcher, " you 'd have 
 know'd that them gales blows whenever they 've a 
 mind to. That 's their rule ; whenever they 've a mind 
 to. Now there 's just two things we can do ; an' one 
 of them is to get a vessel that don't draw so much 
 water ; Cap'n Teel has got one to hire. She 's a sloop, 
 and a good one. He can bring her round here, an' 
 we can put our stores into her an' sail to Boston 
 without no trouble at all." 
 
 At this point there was a general outcry. " Sail in 
 another ship ! " cried Doris. " Never ! It is not the 
 voyage to Boston I care about ; it is the voyage there 
 in our Merry Chanter.^' 
 
 I joined in the remonstrance. Lord Crabstairs 
 vowed that he was in no hurry, and could wait for 
 a wind as long as anybody else. And Dolor Tripp 
 asserted with considerable warmth that if she could 
 not sail behind that bold, wooden singer of the sea 
 she did not wish to sail at all. 
 
 The butcher had been gazing intently upon first 
 
THE MERRY CHANTER. 97 
 
 one and then another of us ; and when Dolor Tripp 
 had said her say he spoke out fully and definitely. 
 "I stick to the ship," said he. 
 
 The schoolmaster made no remark. He was not 
 now so uneasy as he had been at first, but it was 
 plain enough that he wished to sail away, no matter 
 in what vessel. 
 
 " Well, then," now continued Captain Timon, " as 
 none of you seems to waut to leave the schooner, 
 there 's another thing you can do. You can just 
 make yourselves comfortable an' wait fur the gale 
 with a flood tide. Some of you can take the boat an' 
 go fishin'; some of you can walk about on shore; 
 an' if any of you wants to hire a horse you can do it 
 over there in the village. If there 's a special high 
 tide when you are not aboard I '11 just run the 
 schooner out into deeper water an' flre a gun and 
 wait fur you." 
 
 This plan was instantaneously agreed upon, and to 
 prove that we were perfectly contented with the Merry 
 Chanter, we all set about to amuse ourselves. 
 
 Lord Crabstairs went to look after his poultry. 
 These were mostly scattered about the deck, none of 
 them having courage to fly overboard ; but some had 
 gone out on the bowsprit, and the truant cock was 
 stUl in the rigging. His master had vainly endeav- 
 ored to coax him down, and was obliged to put 
 his corn on the cross-trees, where it was contentedly 
 pecked up. Doris applied herself to the care of her 
 little chicks and their mother ; three of the captains 
 went ashore in the boat; the butcher was making 
 some remarks to me in regard to ther improbability 
 9 
 
98 THE MEBBT CBANTEB. 
 
 of the schooner's moving from her present position 
 without leaving behind her her hold, her paving- 
 stones, and her barnacles; and what Dolor Tripp 
 was looking at in the water I do not know, but sud- 
 denly her little boots, in which she was standing 
 tiptoe, slipped backward, and in an instant she 
 disappeared over the side of the vessel. 
 
 I gave a shout and rushed for the spot where she 
 had been leaning over the bulwark. Doris, startled 
 by the great splash, was by my side in a moment. 
 Looking down with pallid faces we saw below us 
 what appeared like the surface of a boiling pot some 
 five feet wide. Out of the tossing turmoil of the 
 water now arose the dripping head, shoulders, and 
 arms of Dolor Tripp, who had succeeded in strug- 
 gling to her feet and who stood upright, puffing and 
 blowing the water from her mouth, wildly waving 
 her hands, and endeavoring to scream. 
 
 In the next instant there were two great splashes, 
 and the butcher and Lord Crabstairs went overboard. 
 Each of them was under water for an instant, and 
 then emerging upright they swashed towards the 
 dripping maiden and each took her by an arm. 
 
 " You are as safe now," exclaimed Lord Crabstairs, 
 sputtering as he spoke, " as if you were high and dry 
 on shore." 
 
 " Unless we sink in the sand," said the butcher. 
 
 But Dolor Tripp paid no attention to similes and 
 suppositions. "Oh, get me out!" she cried. "Get 
 me out!" 
 
 Those of us who were on deck soon discovered that 
 it would not be easy to get her out. There was one 
 
THE MEBEY CHANIEB. 
 
 99 
 
 broad ladder with hand-rails by which we descended 
 into or ascended from the one boat which belonged 
 to the Merry Chanter, and this ladder had been taken 
 ashore in the boat by the three captains who had 
 
 The Promenade Bath. 
 
 gone for fuel, and who proposed to use it when 
 sawing off such lower branches of trees as might be 
 small enough to suit their purpose. The idea that 
 anybody might want the ladder while they were 
 
100 THE MEBBY CHANTER. 
 
 gone never entered the minds of these wood-cutting 
 mariners. 
 
 Captain Teel, who was left on board, was not very 
 fertile in expedients. He proposed hauling up the 
 young woman by means of a rope; and when the 
 butcher declared that if this were done she would 
 be cut to pieces by the barnacles, the captain sug- 
 gested that if a spar were put out at an angle, with 
 one end held down to the bottom and the other rest- 
 ing on the side of the vessel, she might climb on 
 board without touching the barnacles. 
 
 This proposition meeting with no approval, the 
 captain stated that the proper thing to do was to 
 put a block-and-tackle out at the end of a boom and 
 haul her up that way, but that as he was the only 
 seaman on board he did not like to undertake this 
 job by himself. He might put a barrel of fish on 
 board that way, but it would take a good deal of 
 careful hauling and steering to prevent a dangling 
 young woman from getting bumped. He rather 
 guessed that the boat would be back pretty soon, 
 and that the best thing to do would be to wait 
 for it. 
 
 This seemed like hard lines for Dolor Tripp, and I 
 suggested that the three should wade to shore. 
 
 "They can't do that," said Captain Teel. "The 
 water is deeper nearer shore than it is just here. If 
 they go a dozen yards from the schooner it will be 
 over their heads. We 've made soundin's." 
 
 " I suppose," said Doris to the group in the water, 
 " that you will have to wait till the boat comes ; but 
 you ought to walk about to keep from taking cold." 
 
THE MERRY CHANTER. 101 
 
 " Very good," said Lord Crabstairs ; and releasing 
 his hold upon Dolor Tripp, he offered his arm in the 
 usual fashion. The butcher, on her other side, did 
 the same, and the three began their walk through 
 the water. 
 
 "You can go all around the ship," said Captain 
 Teel, " i£ you don't get too far away from her, and 
 I guess you 'U find the bottom pretty hard and 
 smooth." 
 
 The tide was very low, the water being not more 
 than waist-deep for the men and below the shoulders 
 of Dolor Tripp ; but it was quite deep enough to 
 make walking a very slow performance. But as 
 the young woman put perfect faith in the ability 
 of her protectors, and as the two men were greatly 
 pleased to have this opportunity of aiding and pro- 
 tecting her, the spirits of the little party recovered 
 their usual level as they pushed their way through 
 the water. On deck, Doris and I, with Captain Teel 
 and the schoolmaster, kept pace with them, the latter 
 carrying a plank which he intended to hurl to or 
 upon Dolor Tripp in case of danger, such as a tidal 
 wave or an attack by sharks. 
 
 " I like it ever so much ! " cried Dolor Tripp to 
 Doris. " It is a promenade bath. The water is warm 
 and lovely." 
 
 Reaching the bow of the ship. Dolor Tripp looked 
 up at the Merry Chanter. 
 
 " I never expected," she said, " to be under him and 
 look at him from the sea. I wonder if I could climb 
 up to him by this anchor-chain 1 " 
 
 " Don't try it. Miss," said Lord Crabstairs. " If you 
 
102 THE MEBRY CSANTEB. 
 
 ever climb up to anybody, don't let it be to a wooden- 
 beaded old party like that." 
 
 "When it comes to that sort of thing," said the 
 butcher, "the climbing will be the other way." 
 
 Perhaps Dolor Tripp did not understand this 
 remark, for she made no answer to it. As they 
 moved on she said: 
 
 " How gently these little waves lap up against us ! 
 Do you gentlemen believe in mind waves ? " 
 
 " I don't know what they are," said the butcher. 
 
 " If you mean a wavering of the mind," answered 
 Lord Crabstairs, " I have had it often ; particularly 
 when I bought my last cow. I wavered between 
 Alderney and Ayrshire for nearly a month, and, after 
 all, I bought a Devon." 
 
 " Oh, it is n't anything like that," said the young 
 woman. "It is a sort of understanding between 
 minds that are far away from each other. It comes 
 along in a sort of airy waves, something like these 
 ripples, I suppose, and the thoughts and feelings of 
 one friend go to another ever so far off." 
 
 " Oh, I know what it is ! " cried Lord Crabstairs. 
 "You can do it with snails. You go to China and 
 take a she-snail with you, and I stay here with a he- 
 snail, or vice versa. I can go to China with either 
 and you can keep the other — " 
 
 "Do they have to be a married couple, to begin 
 with?" interrupted the butcher. 
 
 " What ! The people 1 " cried Lord Crabstairs. 
 
 " No, the snails," said the butcher. 
 
 "Yes," replied the other. "I forgot to say they 
 must be a pair, so that there shaU be a sympathy 
 
THE MERRY CHANTER. 103 
 
 between them." Then, again addressing the lady, 
 " You have one snail and I the other one, and we 've 
 got the whole world between ns. Whichever of us 
 wishes to communicate with the other takes a pin 
 and jabs his or her snail, as the case may be, and in 
 that very same instant the other snail wiggles." 
 
 "Horrible!" cried Dolor Tripp. "If I had to do 
 that I would never communicate." 
 
 "I don't believe it hurts them," said Lord Crab- 
 stairs. " The least little bit of a prick will do. And 
 we could get up a jab alphabet : one short jab, a long 
 jab, two short jabs, with a rest between them — three 
 long jabs, a rest and a short jab, and so on." 
 
 "I never would do it," said Dolor Tripp, firmly. 
 " I would n't even watch wiggles that were made by 
 pins in China." 
 
 The butcher did not wish to be left out of this 
 conversation. "That must be pretty much the same 
 thing," he said, " as is the case with the legs of 
 frogs. Ton catch a dozen frogs and put their hind 
 legs on a plate, all skinned and ready to be cooked, 
 arranged in a circle with their toes pointing out like 
 the spokes in a wheel, and then you sprinkle some 
 salt on them and every one of those legs begins to 
 kick. If you never saw it before you '11 drop the plate." 
 
 "That is not like my snails at aU!" cried Lord 
 Crabstairs. "A person in China could n't sprinkle 
 salt on frog-legs here. If he were near enough to 
 do that he might as well talk. I don't see any sense 
 in that sort of thing, even allowing that your frog- 
 legs do kick." 
 
 "I don't see any sense in the other sort of thing," 
 
104 THE MERBY CHANTER. 
 
 said the butcher, "even if your snails do wiggle." 
 
 At this Dolor Tripp declared that her correspond- 
 ence should always be either by letter or by tele- 
 graph; and she began to wonder when the boat 
 would return. "We all strained our eyes shoreward, 
 but nothing could be seen of the nautical wood- 
 cutters, and the three in the water were obliged to 
 continue their stroll around the vessel. 
 
 Captain Teel now made a joke which for some 
 time had been resolving itself into form in his mind. 
 " She calls it a promenade bath," he said, with a sub- 
 dued giggle, "but to me it looks a good deal more 
 like a promenade baptize. That butcher in his shirt 
 looks just like a minister with a pair of uncommon 
 sinners." 
 
 I had noticed that every time the party passed 
 under the bow the butcher looked very attentively 
 at his disengaged arm, which hung down by his side. 
 Having caught my eye, he now turned back a little 
 and held up his hand with his forefinger and thumb 
 separated about two inches. He then pointed towards 
 the surface of the water, and after that let his arm 
 drop again. 
 
 The meaning of this pantomime was very plain to 
 me. He had been measuring the depth of the water 
 by some mark on his sleeve, and the tide had risen 
 two inches. He wanted me to know that he was 
 getting uneasy. I began to grow uneasy also. I 
 would have been better pleased had not the butcher 
 always chosen me as the recipient of his forebod- 
 ings. 
 
 But there was no reason for anxiety, for, as the 
 
THE MEBBY CBANTEB. 105 
 
 hour for dinner drew nigh, the three captains 
 emerged from the woods, two of them carrying 
 the ladder and the other a bundle of sticks. Dolor 
 Tripp and her companions were then near the bow 
 of the vessel, and concealed from view of persons 
 on shore. By the time the boat had nearly reached 
 the schooner the three water-walkers came around 
 the bow, and there never were more astonished 
 mariners than our captains when they beheld the 
 three heads and shoulders which apparently floated 
 towards them. Captain Cyrus, who held the tiller, 
 was so startled that he nearly fell overboard, and in 
 their sudden consternation the two others allowed 
 a few words of the swearing variety to escape from 
 their lips — the first we had heard from them since 
 they had entered our service. 
 
 "Now you see," said Lord Crabstairs to Dolor 
 Tripp, " if those sailors had taken a snail with them 
 and we had had a snail, we could have let them know 
 what was the matter, and they would have turned 
 back immediately and taken us out of the water. 
 Every ship should carry a lot of snails in case the 
 people on board get separated." 
 
 The butcher shrugged his shoulders, but evidently 
 saw no way of bringing his frogs' legs to the fore. 
 
 Our friends were soon on board and in dry clothes; 
 and when the butcher appeared on deck he took me 
 to one side and remarked : " As I was walking round 
 this ship I made up my mind it would n't be long 
 before her barnacles grew down into the sand 
 bank — that is, if they grow that way; and when 
 that happens, and taking into consideration the 
 
106 THE MESBY CBANTEB. 
 
 seventy cart-loads of paving stones in her hold, 
 she '11 have a pretty strong foundation. But, of 
 course, there 's no use saying anything of that kind 
 to the ladies, especially if they 're beginning to feel 
 as if they 'd like to be getting on to Boston." 
 
XII 
 
 DOLOE TBIPP TAKES US UNDER HER WING 
 
 HE gloomy remarks of the butcher 
 in regard to the permanency of the 
 Merry Chanter's position had a cer- 
 tain effect upon me. I did not 
 agree with him, for I had full faith 
 in the knowledge and experience of 
 our skipper, and believed that when the exceptional 
 gale and the exceptional tide came along together 
 our ship would float off the sand bank and sail out 
 of Shankashank Bay. But the continual allusions of 
 the butcher to our barnacles and our seventy cart- 
 loads of paving stftnes could but depress me. It 
 would require such a very high tide and such a very 
 strong gale to move us. As we had started for 
 Boston, I wanted to go there. 
 
 Doris, to my surprise, appeared to have become 
 reconciled to the delay. Of course, as she had started 
 for Boston, she wanted to go there; but, as she 
 several times remarked, she did not wish to be 
 unreasonable. She knew there were many delays 
 connected with voyages on sailing vessels, such as 
 calms, head winds, and the like, and she supposed 
 the cause of our present detention was equivalent to 
 a calm. With this view Captain Timon coincided. 
 
 107 
 
108 THE MERBT CHJNIMB. 
 
 She had begun to feel at home in Shankashank 
 Bay, and so long as she had to stay she determined 
 to make the best of it. And in this resolve she was 
 joined by the rest of the ship's company. 
 
 Lord Crabstairs could sing a good song, and he 
 sang a great many. The butcher had a deep and 
 earnest voice, and with this he joined in choruses. 
 The rest of us also did our duty in this line accord- 
 ing to our abilities. The schoolmaster conducted 
 spelling-bees; Doris told stories, which she did 
 excellently well; and I delivered one lecture on 
 " The Analysis of Lava." The only person, how- 
 ever, who appeared to be much interested in the sub- 
 ject was Lord Crabstairs, who inquired if there were 
 any volcanoes near Boston. I think this question 
 was inspired by a glimmer of hope in regard to the 
 lifting of the hereditary debts of his family; for 
 when I told him that there were no volcanoes 
 near the port to which we were bound, he fixed his 
 eyes upon the back of Dolor Tripp, and I am sure 
 gave no further thought to lava. 
 
 On the second day after the water promenade a 
 picnic on shore was proposed ; and immediately after 
 dinner the two ladies, with myself, the butcher. Lord 
 Crabstairs, and the schoolmaster, went on shore. 
 The latter declined at first to be of our party, for 
 fear that Mrs. Bodship might catch sight of him; 
 but as the butcher lent him a gown and a high silk 
 hat, he was convinced that he might go* with us 
 without danger of being recognized — at least at a 
 distance. He took with him the sandpiper in its 
 cage ; for, although the bird was well on its way to 
 
THE MEBRT CEANTEB. 109 
 
 recovery, lie considered it not yet able to take care 
 of itself. 
 
 Our plan was to go some distance inland, eat our 
 supper at an appropriate rural spot, and, returning 
 to the shore at the close of the day, take a moonlight 
 row on Shankashank Bay. This was to be long or 
 short according to our pleasure, and when it was 
 over we would return to the Merry Chanter. We 
 invited any of the captains who chose to accompany 
 us, but they all declined. The exceptional gale 
 might come in with the tide, and in that case they 
 should all be on board to take the schooner out into 
 deeper water. 
 
 We rambled about two miles inland, and our little 
 excursion was enjoyed by all of us until we were 
 preparing to return to the shore after having eaten 
 our supper. Then a sudden rain-storm burst upon 
 us, and we ceased to enjoy the excursion. Hastily 
 gathering up our baskets and wraps, we ran for the 
 nearest house ; but as this was about a quarter 
 of a mile away, we were well wet before we got 
 there. 
 
 Even when we reached it we found it a poor place 
 of refuge. It was a very small house, and there was 
 nobody at home but a boy and girl, who, I am siire, 
 would not have admitted us if we had knocked at 
 the main door. But as we rushed pell-mell into the 
 kitchen from the back of the house, they had no 
 option in regard to our entrance. The girl, how- 
 ever, locked the door of the front or best room, so 
 that we should not go in there with our wet feet and 
 clothes, and we were obliged to bestow ourselves as 
 10 
 
110 THE MEBBY CBANTEB. 
 
 well as we could in the little kitchen, in which there 
 was one chair. There was no fire, and the girl 
 declared there was no need of making one until her 
 mother came with the supper, and that she would 
 not come until the rain was over. Had we been 
 able to discover any fuel we would have made 
 the fire ourselves; but as we saw none, we merely 
 stood about and grumbled. 
 
 The heavy clouds, which had come up so fast from 
 behind the woods in which we had supped, brought 
 darkness upon, us at least an hour before we expected 
 it, and the rain continued to fall steadily. "When we 
 had spent half an hour or more in the dismal little 
 kitchen Dolor Tripp spoke up. 
 
 "It will never do to stay here," she said. "We 
 shall take our deaths of cold. Our house is not a 
 mile away, and the best thing we can do is to go 
 there. We are so wet now that we might as well be 
 wetter, and when we get to the house we can warm 
 and dry ourselves and stay until the rain is over." 
 
 The suggestion was accepted instantly, and heap- 
 ing coals of fire upon the heads of the youngsters by 
 giving them some small change, we tramped out into 
 the storm. Dolor Tripp declared that dark as it was 
 she knew she could find the way, for the road to her 
 home was a moderately direct one, having but few 
 turns; and, supported by Lord Crabstairs and the 
 butcher, she led the way. 
 
 The road might have been direct enough and 
 smooth enough if we could have kept in the middle 
 of it ; but the sides on which, without intending it, 
 we did most of our walking were very rough, and as 
 
THE MEBBY CHANTER. Ill 
 
 we frequently ran against the fences on either side, 
 Dolor Tripp declared that she believed that the roads 
 were a good deal narrower by night than by day. 
 But during our slow and stumbling progress we 
 cheered ourselves with two reflections — we were 
 getting nearer and nearer to a sheltering roof, and 
 the exercise was keeping us from taking cold. 
 
 After walking for what seemed to me a very long 
 time, Dolor Tripp remarked that she believed that 
 she had passed a fork in the road where we should 
 have turned to the right, and that we must go back 
 a little. "We went back; but after stumbling and 
 splashing and peering about for nearly a quarter of 
 an hour, our guide said that she now believed we 
 had not passed the fork, and we might as well 
 keep on. 
 
 We kept on and on and on, and at last we came to 
 a fork, — which the butcher discovered, — and then we 
 turned to the right. The rain now began to slacken, 
 the clouds grew a little thinner, and a diluted and 
 shadowed moonlight enabled us better to find our 
 way. I asserted that I believed it would be well to 
 change our course, and, instead of going to the Tripp 
 house, turn shoreward and get back to the schooner 
 as soon as possible. 
 
 This proposition, however, met with no favor. The 
 others declared that as the road to the shore would 
 from this point lead us over fields and sand hUls we 
 should be lost, and should miserably perish ; whereas, 
 from the Tripp house to the boat-landing we all knew 
 the way, which, moreover, we need not take until we 
 had dried ourselves and rested. 
 
112 THE MEBUY CHANTEB. 
 
 We therefore pressed on ; and as we could now see 
 the roadway, which, although sloppy, was compara- 
 tively smooth, we made fair progress, and after a time 
 the house of our destination loomed up dark before 
 us. As we made our way to the front gate Dolor 
 Tripp remarked: " Of course they are abed and asleep, 
 for they always go to bed early, and the gate must be 
 locked." 
 
 " But I hope they will get up and open it," said I. 
 
 "Not Alwilda and Lizeth," she said. "You would n't 
 think that if you knew them. They would n't unlock 
 the gate after dark, even if they were up ; and as to 
 getting out of bed to do it, they'd let Queen Victoria 
 stand here and wait till morning." 
 
 For some time I had been in a bad humor, and I 
 now felt very much provoked. " It might have been 
 well," I said, " if you had thought of all this before 
 you brought us here." 
 
 "I did, partly," said Dolor Tripp, "That is, I 
 thought it would be just as well that they should be in 
 bed and asleep when we got here, for I know Alwilda 
 will talk dreadfully to me about going to Boston, and 
 perhaps talk me out of it ; but I did n't happen to 
 think that if they were not up we might not get in." 
 
 " There is no need bothering about the gate," quick- 
 ly spoke up the butcher. " I can make an opening in 
 this fence and not hurt it, either. And when we get 
 inside the yard I expect we can find some window or 
 door unfastened. There always is in country houses." 
 
 Dolor Tripp replied that if he did not hurt the fence 
 she thought that would be a good plan, and in a few 
 ininutes the butcher had felt along the fence and 
 
THE ME^SF CHANTER. 113 
 
 found a place where the pales were somewhat loose, 
 by reason of age. He and Lord Crabstairs then pulled 
 five or six of them from their bottom fastenings and 
 pushed them to one side, so that the party easily 
 entered. 
 
 The butcher enjoined us to make as little noise as 
 possible. It was natural that he should not wish to 
 wake up a woman who might talk Dolor Tripp into 
 not going to Boston. Then he said he would go by 
 himself round the house and try the shutters and 
 doors. 
 
 " You need n't do that," said Dolor Tripp. " There 
 is n't a door or a window on the lower floor that is n't 
 bolted, or locked, or barred, or screwed up." 
 
 There was a little murmur among us. The rain had 
 almost ceased, but we were tired, wet, and miserable, 
 and what we wanted above all things was to rest our- 
 selves before a fire. The situation was disheartening, 
 and as for Doris and me, we did not care whether the 
 sisters were wakened or not so that we got in and were 
 warmed. 
 
 " I 'U knock at the door," said I, " and make some 
 one come down and open it." 
 
 Dolor Tripp held up a warning hand. " Don't do 
 that," she said. " Alwilda has a gun. I 've thought 
 of a way to get in. Do you see that pine tree at the 
 comer of the house ? That is the tree that I expected 
 the burglars to climb up when I used to sit and 
 watch for them. And if a burglar could do it, I should 
 think some one else could ; and then he could easily 
 push up the sash of that window and get in, and go 
 through the room into the hall and down the stairs, 
 
114 THE MERRY CHANTER. 
 
 and take down the bar from this door and unlock it, 
 and let us in." 
 
 " I '11 do it ! " said the hutcher the moment she had 
 finished speaking; and without delay, he advanced 
 towards the tree. 
 
 "I wotdd climb np and go in myself," said Lord 
 Crabstairs, "but I am not sure that I understand 
 these American houses." 
 
 The butcher took off his gown, which clung to him 
 like a wet shroud, and casting it upon the grass he 
 began to ascend the tree. " This he did easily and 
 rapidly, the horizontal branches affording him con- 
 venient hold for foot and hand. Very soon he was 
 inside the house, and we listened anxiously, fearing 
 that we might hear a noisy stumbling and the report 
 of Alwilda's gun. But we heard no noise at all; and 
 after what seemed an unnecessarily protracted period 
 of waiting, the front door quietly opened. 
 
 " I did n't strike the stairs at first," whispered the 
 butcher, " and I went too far along that upper haU ; 
 but when I came against a door that was partly open 
 I knew I was wrong, and turned back." 
 
 " Mercy ! " gasped Dolor Tripp. " That was their 
 room ! " 
 
 "We all now entered, and the butcher gently closed 
 the door behind us. There was an unshuttered win- 
 dow at the other end of the hall through which came 
 enough dim light to enable us faintly to discern one 
 another and surrounding objects, 
 
 " I '11 go first," whispered Dolor Tripp, " and take 
 you to the old part of the house." 
 
 So saying she led us, all stepping as softly as we 
 
THE MEBBY CEAMTEB. 115 
 
 could, to a transverse hall, and along this to a large 
 open door, through which we passed and went down 
 three steps into another hall. This was very short ; 
 and opening a door at the end of it Dolor Tripp ush- 
 ered us into a large room, into which the moonbeams, 
 now grown brighter, came through a small unshut- 
 tered window high up in the wall. 
 
 Dolor Tripp, who seemed to be used to doing things 
 in semi-darkness, took down an iron candlestick from 
 the mantelpiece, and asked if anybody had a match. 
 One was immediately produced by Lord Crabstairs 
 and the candle was lighted. 
 
 "Now," said she, holding the light above her head, 
 " this is the kitchen of the old house. Part of the old 
 house was torn down to make room for the new one, 
 which is pretty old itself, but this kitchen was left. 
 If some one will close that door we shall be entirely 
 shut off from the rest of the house, and then we need 
 not be so particular about keeping quiet." 
 
 I did not care a snap whether this part of the house 
 was old or new, but I saw before me a great old-fash- 
 ioned fireplace with some charred logs lying upon the 
 iron andirons, and at one end of the hearth a pUe of 
 firewood. This was what we had come for. We fell 
 to work, and in ten minutes a great fire was blazing 
 and crackling, the wet wraps of the ladies were 
 removed, and we all gathered around the hearth, 
 which fortunately was large enough to accommodate 
 the six of us. It is astonishing how the genial heat 
 dried our shoes and clothes and raised our spirits. 
 
 The schoolmaster and the butcher sat at the cor- 
 ners of the fireplace, and they were very well placed 
 
116 THE MEBBT CHANTER. 
 
 indeed. The former took off his gown and hung it 
 on a crane that extended from one side of the great 
 fireplace. He wished to have it dry enough to put on 
 when he went out It was not probable that Mrs. 
 Bodship would be rambling about the country at 
 night, but he wanted to feel quite safe. 
 
 "Now, then," said Doris, "if we only had some 
 good hot tea we ought to be perfectly happy." 
 
 "And something to eat," added Lord Crabstairs. 
 " I, for one, am half famished." 
 
 "You can have both tea and something to eat," 
 said Dolor Tripp. "We have used this kitchen as 
 a storeroom for the things we buy in quantities. In 
 that cupboard is a box of tea, and there is sugar and 
 salt and spices, and a barrel of flour." 
 
 " We can't do anything with flour and salt without 
 waiting ever so long," said Doris. 
 
 " I feel as if I could eat them without baking," said 
 Lord Crabstairs. 
 
 "You need n't do that," said Dolor Tripp. "I can 
 go quietly to the other end of the house, where the 
 pantry is. There is always something to eat there. 
 But first let us boil the kettle. If you, sir, will move 
 your gown a little farther to the back of the crane 
 there is a kettle here which we can hang over the 
 fire." 
 
 Under her direction the butcher, with as little 
 noise as possible, pumped some water from a cistern 
 under the kitchen, and when the kettle was filled and 
 over the fire the two ladies got down some cups, 
 saucers, and a tea-pot from the shelves of a dresser 
 which seemed to be filled with old-time pottery. 
 
THE MMBBT CHANTEE. 117 
 
 Then Dolor Tripp started to go to the pantry. " I 
 •will blow out the candle," she said, " and take it with 
 me. Then I wiU light it when I get there. They are 
 very hard to wake, but a light passing through the 
 house might do it. You folks won't mind sitting here 
 in the firelight ? " 
 
 Of course we did not mind, and Doris offered to go 
 with her. The two opened the kitchen door and 
 went out into the little hall. In a moment they 
 returned. 
 
 "What do you think," said Doris, in an excited 
 imdertonej "the door at the top of the steps that 
 leads into the main building is fastened, and we 
 cannot open it!" 
 
 In great surprise we all rose to our feet and looked 
 towards Dolor Tripp that she might tell us what to 
 think. " Is there a spring-lock on the door ? " I asked. 
 
 " No," said she, " there is no spring-lock, and we did 
 not close the door after us. We shut only this kitchen 
 door. But I know who did it," she added, quietly. " It 
 was the ghost. It is one of its ways to lock and bolt 
 doors." 
 
xni 
 
 THE PIE GHOST 
 
 HE ghost ! " exelaiined Doris, with a 
 quick grasp upon the arm of Dolor 
 Tripp. 
 
 "I was sure of it!" said the 
 butcher, looking straight in front 
 of him and speaking very decidedly. 
 " I saw something white moving in the front hall as 
 I came down the stairs. I knew it for a ghost, but I 
 did n't say anything, for I did n't suppose it would 
 meddle with six people." 
 
 " Fiddle-faddle ! " said Lord Crabstairs. " There are 
 no such things as ghosts." And with this opinion I 
 coincided. The schoolmaster said nothing. He re- 
 sumed his seat at the side of the fireplace and 
 rearranged his gown upon the crane, so as to expose 
 all parts of it to the heat. It might be necessary to 
 put it on suddenly. 
 
 " There is no mistake about this ghost," said Dolor 
 Tripp. " If you will aU. sit down till the kettle boils 
 I will tell you about it." 
 
 We resumed our seats in front of the fire, and the 
 butcher put on some fresh sticks. 
 " It has been in this house," said Dolor, still hold- 
 
 118 
 
THE MEERY CHANTER. 119 
 
 ing the nnlighted candle, "ever since I first came 
 here, a little girl only ten years old. I soon began to 
 see it, though I don't believe it often saw me." 
 
 " Did n't it frighten you nearly to death ? " asked 
 Doris. 
 
 "No," replied the other, "At first I thought it 
 belonged to the house just as much as any of the 
 other queer things which I found here, and there 
 seemed to be no reason why I should be frightened 
 at one thing more than at another." 
 
 " What did your sisters say about it ? " asked Doris. 
 
 " They did n't say anything," replied the other. 
 " I soon began to believe that they did n't know 
 anything about it, and I was afraid that if I told 
 them they would have something done to drive it 
 out of the house." 
 
 We all looked at her in amazement. " And you did 
 not want that ? " asked Lord Crabstairs. 
 
 " No, indeed," replied Dolor Tripp. " I used to try 
 to watch for it. I would go into different parts of the 
 house at night and watch for it, hoping it would come 
 by. Sometimes weeks and weeks would pass without 
 my seeing it, and then I would get a glimpse of it on 
 two or three nights in succession." 
 
 " What did it look like ? " asked Doris. 
 
 " Its head was light or whitish, and below it gradu- 
 ally melted down into darkness." 
 
 " That was it," said the butcher. " That is exactly 
 like the thing I saw." 
 
 "And you never, never told your sisters," said 
 Doris, "that they were living in the house with a 
 ghost ? " 
 
120 THE MEEEY CHANTER. 
 
 " No, indeed ! " replied Dolor Tripp. " You see, be- 
 fore we came here we lived in a horrid little house in 
 the town, and when it was decided by the court that 
 this place belonged to us nobody was so glad as I was. 
 So, as I told you, I did not want AlwUda and Lizeth 
 to do anything to drive the ghost away ; but what I 
 was most afraid of was that they might find that they 
 could n't get rid of it, and would go away themselves. 
 I wouldn't have had that happen for anything in 
 the world." 
 
 " And so," said Doris, " as the burglars would not 
 come you did n't want to lose the visits of a ghost." 
 
 " Perhaps so," replied Dolor Tripp. " And now the 
 kettle is boiling, and we can have some tea, if we 
 can't get anything else." 
 
 "As for ghosts," interjected Lord Crabstairs, " I 
 never have believed in them, and never shall. But I 
 do know that I am as hungry as a wolf ; and if you'D 
 allow me. Miss, I 'U push open that door, no matter 
 who fastened it on the other side, and I'll go with 
 you to the pantry, or anywhere else where there 's 
 bread and meat, and defend you against all comers, 
 ghosts or otherwise." 
 
 " Oh, you must not do that ! " exclaimed Dolor 
 Tripp. " The door would be broken, and AlwUda and 
 Lizeth would surely wake up." 
 
 " As for believing in ghosts," said the butcher, " a 
 good deal depends upon who does the believing. If 
 you 've never had a chance of seeing ghosts, sir, you 
 are out of the race." 
 
 The candle was now lighted, and cups of hot tea were 
 served by the ladies. I hurriedly drank a cup and 
 
THE MEBBX GRANTEE. 121 
 
 then began to consider the situation. I went to the 
 door at the top of the steps and tried it, thinking per- 
 haps there might be a mistake in regard to its being 
 fastened. But there had been no mistake. It was 
 locked, and the key was on the other side. I did not 
 like to be fastened up against my will in any place or 
 by any agency. 
 
 I now insisted that we should leave this place with- 
 out delay, by a window if there was no other outlet, 
 and make our way to our boat. 
 
 " Oh, you can't get out," said Dolor Tripp, " until 
 he unfastens the door. The window sashes are all 
 nailed and screwed fast, and the outside shutters and 
 that back door are padlocked. Alwilda and Lizeth are 
 very particular about having this kitchen secure from 
 burglars. But you need n't worry. That door will be 
 opened before long. The ghost always does that after 
 making you wait a little while." 
 
 " I think it is rather jolly," said Doris, " to have a 
 ghost for a jailer, though I can't really say I should 
 like to have him come in and bring us ia jug of water 
 and a loaf of bread." 
 
 " If he will do that," said Lord Crabstairs, " I 'U 
 believe in him ; although I don't care for the water, 
 and should like him to fetch some meat or cheese with 
 the bread." 
 
 Doris suddenly turned towards the schoolmaster. 
 " What have you done with the sandpiper ? " she 
 said. 
 
 The butcher started. " You are not thinking of 
 eating him ? " he asked. 
 
 " Oh, no," said Doris, with a laugh. " "We have not 
 11 
 
122 THE MEBBT CBANTEB. 
 
 got SO low as that yet, although I must admit that I 
 also am awfully hungry. But talking of things to eat 
 made me think of the bird, and I wondered what had 
 become of it." 
 
 " I left the cage," said the schoolmaster, " just out- 
 side by the front door. I put my hat over it to keep 
 the rain off the sandpiper." 
 
 Lord Crabstairs smote his knees with his hands and 
 laughed. " Why, man," he cried, " that tall sUk hat 
 has blown forty miles across country by this time ! " 
 
 The butcher looked at him severely. "That's all 
 right ! " he said. " I should like to know how it could 
 get out of this yard with such a high fence and no gate 
 open. I don't believe it 's. raining, anyway ; so you may 
 feel sure, ma'am, that the sandpiper is comfortable." 
 
 At this moment there was a little noise at one of the 
 windows, and, turning my eyes in that direction, I 
 saw the lower sash raised a couple of inches. I was 
 about to spring towards the window when Doris, who 
 had followed my glance, caught me by the coat. 
 
 Instantly we aU rose to our feet, and as we looked 
 at the window, beyond which we could see nothing, 
 something like a young moon began to protrude itself 
 through the opening under the sash. In a moment 
 the lunar apparition had greatly increased in size and 
 was a half moon. 
 
 Dolor Tripp now made a quick step forward. 
 
 " Keep back, aU of you," she said. " I know what 
 it is," And going to the window she took hold of the 
 moon, and, drawing it into the room, she held it up to 
 us in aU the glory of its fullness. 
 
 " A pumpkin pie ! " exclaimed Don? 
 
123 
 
124 THE MMBBY CBANTEB. 
 
 We gathered about it. It was of the largest size 
 and as yellow as gold. " Oh, delicious ! " cried Doris. 
 " Somebody get a kniEe." 
 
 " But where did it come from ? " I asked. 
 
 " From the ghost, of course," replied Dolor Tripp. 
 " That is one of its ways. It leaves pies about. Several 
 times when it has locked me into a room I 've just 
 waited quietly until I found the door unfastened, and 
 there outside, just where I would n't step into it, there 
 would be a little pie." 
 
 " A lovely ghost ! " cried Lord Crabstairs. " I am 
 converted. I believe in him. But this is n't a pie ; it 's 
 a tart. Pies are made of meat." 
 
 "No, they are not," said the butcher; "at least, not 
 punkin pies. I should think I ought to know what 
 things are made of meat." 
 
 " And I ought to know what things are made of 
 fruits and vegetables," retorted Lord Crabstairs. 
 "That is a tart!" 
 
 " I '11 toss up to see who is right," said the butcher. 
 
 " Done ! " said Lord Crabstairs, producing a penny. 
 
 " Heads ! " cried the butcher. 
 
 It was taUs. 
 
 " AU right," said the butcher. " I '11 take some of 
 it, but all the same I never imagined that I should 
 live long enough to eat punkin tart!" 
 
 Dolor Tripp quickly cut the pie into six parts, but 
 I would have none of it. I do not believe in ghosts, 
 and will not eat food brought by them. I went to 
 the window and endeavored to raise the sash higher, 
 but could not do so. With aU my strength I could 
 not increase the width of the narrow aperture. One 
 
THE MERRY CHANTER. 125 
 
 of the shutters was open, but the shadow of the 
 main building and a growth of evergreen bushes 
 made everything dark immediately outside. 
 
 I left the window, and waliing quietly out of the 
 kitchen into the little hall, I again tried the door at 
 the top of the steps. To my delight it was unfas- 
 tened. I stepped gently back, and looking in at the 
 kitchen door I caught the eye of the butcher, who 
 was finishing his piece of pie. Without attracting 
 the attention of the others, who were making some 
 fresh tea, he came to me. 
 
 I whispered to him to follow. We went up the 
 steps, and through the door. We groped our way 
 along the passage, turned into the main hall, opened 
 the front door, and went out. 
 
 " It is no ghost," I said. " Let us go around the 
 house and catch him ! " 
 
 " I began to have my doubts," said the butcher. 
 "The pie was too real." 
 
 As quietly as possible we walked along the front of 
 the house and around the end of it, returning by the 
 back towards the old kitchen. The moon gave us 
 light enough to see our way untU we reached the 
 shaded corner by the window; but when we had 
 slowly and gently pushed through the evergreens 
 we found ourselves in almost total darkness, the 
 little light that came from the candle within amount- 
 ing to almost nothing. But although we could not 
 expect to see an approaching figure, we might hear 
 one, and we stood silently and waited. 
 
 But we did not wait long. Down from some re- 
 gion above came a light, misty spot like a will-o'-the- 
 
126 THE MEEBY CBANTEB. 
 
 wisp. When it was about five feet from the ground 
 it moved towards the kitchen window. I do not 
 know what the butcher thought, but at this moment 
 it occurred to me that perhaps after aH it might be 
 well not to interfere with this apparition. We really 
 had no right to interfere and we were ourselves in- 
 truders upon the premises. And whether it were a 
 ghost, or a man, or a woman, there was something 
 in my nature, naturally sensitive, which prompted 
 hesitation before actively interfering with the pur- 
 suits of another. 
 
 But I had no time properly to revolve this subject 
 in my mind. The butcher reached out one hand and 
 took me by the coat-sleeve. Following the impulse 
 thus given I moved with him towards the window, 
 our feet making no noise upon the soft grass. 
 
 Against the faint light in the room, on the side of 
 the window where the shutter was opened, we could 
 see the top of a strangely formed head raised just 
 high enough above the window-sill to enable its 
 owner to look inside. The ghost was watching our 
 friends ! 
 
 There was a quick movement of the apparition; 
 the butcher had seized it. In the next instant I also 
 laid hold of it. Within my grasp I felt an arm, a 
 human arm quite fij-m and solid. Not a word was 
 spoken ; there was no struggle, no noise. Silently 
 the butcher and I pulled our captive away from the 
 window, through the overhanging evergreen boughs, 
 and out into the moonlight. 
 
 There we discovered that we held a man, quite a 
 small man, with a white cap on his head. 
 
THE MEBBT CSANTER. 127 
 
 "Well, now," said he, looking from one to the 
 other of us, " you have caught me, have n't you ? 
 And I must say you did it pretty neat. I knew it 
 was risky, foolin' with sech a big party, but for the 
 life of me I could n't help it. Never sech a chance 
 turned up before in this house ! " 
 
 " But who are you 1 " said I. 
 
 " You are a stranger to me," replied the little man, 
 " and you would n't know who I was if I told you. 
 Now, this gentleman knows me, and I know him." 
 
 " You don't mean to say," exclaimed the butcher, 
 " that you are — " 
 
 " Yes, I am," interrupted the other. 
 
 "And you are the ghost ? " 
 
 " Now, teU me," asked the little man, "did she take 
 me for a ghost ? I always hoped she would, but I 
 could n't help f eelin' sort of oncertain about it." 
 
 " She certainly did," answered the butcher. 
 
 " That 's what I call real jolly ! " said our prisoner, 
 rubbing his hands. "Let's go in, and have it all 
 out. I guess I 've served my time as a spook, and 
 might as well come down to the level of common 
 people." 
 
 As the butcher had released his hold of our pris- 
 oner, I did so likewise. The little man now started 
 off, and went around the house to the front door. 
 We followed, and he led us into the hall and along 
 the passage to the kitchen. Entering abruptly he 
 stopped near the door, and exclaimed in a cheery 
 voice, and without removing his cap: "Now, ladies 
 and gentlemen, here 's your ghost ! What do you 
 think of him?" 
 
128 THE MEBBT CHANTER. 
 
 The party had been anxiously discussing our ab- 
 sence, and Lord Crabstairs and the schoolmaster 
 were about to start out to look for us. They now all 
 stood amazed, gazing wide-eyed at the new-comer. 
 
 Suddenly Dolor Tripp stepped forward. " Griscom 
 Brothers ! " she exclaimed. 
 
 " Yes," said the little man, " I am Griscom 
 Brothers." 
 
 "In the name of common sense," said Doris, 
 " please tell me what you two are talking about ? Is 
 this the pie ghost ? " 
 
 " Yes, Madam," said Griscom Brothers. " And not 
 only pie but bread, both wheat and Boston-brown, 
 with rye to order ; cakes of aU kinds, especially home- 
 made ginger; and family bakings and roasts on 
 reasonable terms. In a word — Griscom Brothers." 
 
 " Of the village over here," added Dolor Tripp, in 
 further explanation. 
 
 " Griscom Brothers," said the butcher, in a toue of 
 confident affirmation. 
 
 All this was as surprising to me as it was to the 
 others. As for Lord Crabstairs, he stood up very 
 straight with his feet wide apart, and stared at Gris- 
 com Brothers. 
 
 " Now, really ! " he exclaimed. " It is Brothers, is 
 it ? And the ghost of a baker besides ! " 
 
 "No, sir," spoke up quickly the little man. "I 
 may be a baker ghost, but I am not the ghost of a 
 baker ; not yet." 
 
 "Are you two in one?" asked Lord Crabstairs. 
 " If not, where is the other one of you ? " 
 
 "My brother," said the little man, " who, with me, 
 
THE MEBBY CHANTER. 129 
 
 gave our business its firm name, has been deceased 
 for a long time." 
 
 " Then," said Lord Crabstairs, " Griseom Brothers 
 is half dead, and has a right to be a half ghost." 
 
 " Aha ! " said the httle man. " That 's about right. 
 Half the time I 'm a baker, and half the time a ghost. 
 And now, then, if you folks care to hear all about it, 
 I 'm ready to talk." 
 
 " Care to hear ! " said Dolor Tripp. " I 'm on pins 
 and needles to hear ! " 
 
 The fire was now built up afresh, and again we 
 placed ourselves on our chairs, stools, and boxes about 
 the hearth, Griseom Brothers having a place in the 
 middle, between Dolor Tripp and Doris. I happened 
 to notice that in this arrangement the schoolmaster 
 was left out, and was standing back of our half-circle. 
 
 But as the schooolmaster was evidently a humble- 
 minded person and did not appear to object to his 
 position, I thought it wise not to disturb the company 
 by interrupting the story which the baker had just 
 begun. 
 

 XIV 
 
 WHAT GRISCOM BROTHERS GOT OUT OF A 
 PUMPKIN PIE 
 
 T the brigM light of the fire I took 
 a good look at Griscom Brothers. 
 He appeared to be about fifty years 
 old, with a merry countenance, 
 small eyes, grizzly side-whiskers, 
 and below his white paper cap a 
 little curly grizzly hair. It was 
 plain that he liked to talk, and 
 that he was well satisfied with 
 his present position. "Now," 
 said he, looking from side to 
 side, " I know who you all are. 
 You are the people from the 
 schooner out here in the bay : 
 and as I 've told you who I am, we may call ourselves 
 acquainted, and I '11 go on and tell about the ghost 
 business without asking any questions of you ; at least 
 not now. 
 
 " I've often noticed," said he, giving himself a little 
 twist in his chair, " that when a man sits down, fair 
 and square, to tell a story, it happens time and again 
 
THE MEBBY CHANTEB. 131 
 
 that the story don't step up to the mark as lively as it 
 ought to, and when it does show itself, it is n't as 
 much of a story as it was expected to be. I should n't 
 wonder i£ my story should be that way ; but I '11 take 
 it by the nape of the neck and bring it right in, and 
 let you folks see all there is of it. 
 
 " It was about twelve years ago, when my brother 
 died and my family got to be only me, that I found 
 I did n't get sleep enough. You see that being a baker 
 I am obliged to go to my work very early in the morn- 
 ing, mostly about three o'clock, and that if I don't get 
 a good sleep in the first part of the night, it will teU 
 on me. You know that sort of thing will tell on 
 people. Now the room I slept in after my family be- 
 came so small was Mrs. Springer's second-floor back, 
 and every Tuesday night the Dorcas Society used to 
 meet there, and them women kept up such a chatter- 
 ing from before dark to nobody knows how late at 
 night, that I might as well try to make good bread of 
 brick clay as to sleep ; meaning no offense, of course," 
 — turning from one to the other of the ladies, — "if 
 either of you belongs to a Dorcas Society." 
 
 " Which I do not," said Doris ; " and if I did I 
 would n't mind." 
 
 "Now, you see," continued Griscom Brothers, 
 " when a man loses his night's sleep on one night in 
 the week, he is very like to get into the habit of losing 
 it ; that 's what I did, and could n't stand it. At that 
 time this house was empty, the law having not de- 
 cided who it belonged to, and it came into my head 
 that it would be a good thing to come over here and 
 sleep. There would be no Dorcas Society here, or 
 
132 THE MEMRT CMANTMR. 
 
 anything else to disturb me. So here I came, finding 
 it easy to get in at one of these kitchen windows j and 
 I fixed np a bed in an upper room, and there I could 
 sleep like a toad in a hole. Of course I did n't want 
 to hurt Mrs. Springer's feelings, and I neyer said 
 nothing to her about my not sleeping in the house. I 
 went upstairs every night at my reg'lar bed-time and 
 I rumpled up the bed and went away, Mrs. Springer 
 not knowing whether I left the house at three o'clock 
 in the morning or nine o'clock at night. You see I 'm 
 very spry at getting about without people seeing me ; 
 and to this day Mrs. Springer does n't know that for 
 the last twelve years I have n't slept in her house ex- 
 cept on some very stormy nights." 
 
 " Paid for your room straight along, I guess," re- 
 marked the butcher. 
 
 " Yes, sir ! As I did n't pay nothing here it was aU 
 right I should pay there. WeU, after I had kept up 
 this thing for two years, yon and your sisters," turn- 
 ing to Dolor Tripp, " came here to live, and then you 
 may be sure I had a hard nut to crack. I had 
 become so accustomed to this big, quiet house that 
 I did n't believe I could sleep under any other 
 roof, and so I said to myself, 'I 'U stay here, and 
 these people sha'n't know it any more than Mrs. 
 Springer does.' There 's a loft over this kitchen which 
 you cah't get into except by that trap-door and a 
 ladder, and so before you came here I put the ladder 
 up into the loft, and put a bolt on the other side of 
 the trap-door, which kept me private. I knew you 
 would n't want to use the loft, and I thought I might 
 as weU have it as not." 
 
THE MEBBT CSAXTEB. 133 
 
 " And you 've been sleeping there for ten years ! " 
 exclaimed Dolor, 
 
 " That 's about the time," said Grriscom Brothers. 
 " I put everything into that room to make myself 
 comfortable, — not your things, but my things, — and 
 I got in and out through a little window in the roof. 
 There are some strips nailed on for a grapevine, and 
 these I use for a ladder. I can go up and down in 
 the darkest night just like stairs. I can get into the 
 house just the same as I used to, because the lock on 
 the back door of the main house is one I put there 
 myself, years ago, and of course I 've got a key to it. 
 Not long after you came I got to going over the 
 house again, principally to see if the doors and 
 windows were all shut and fastened. You was a 
 little gii'l then, and you had a way of going out of 
 doors after your sisters had gone to bed. You never 
 thought of shutting up when you came back. When 
 you got to be a big girl, and even a young woman, 
 you did the same thing. So I kept on taking care of 
 things." 
 
 "It strikes me," said Lord Crabstairs, who had 
 been listening very attentively to the baker's story, 
 " that you had rather an odd way of getting a nighf s 
 sleep. Rambling through a house and playing ghost 
 is n't the way to refresh a man, I take it." • 
 
 " Now, you see," said Griscom Brothers, " the p'int 
 of it is this. "When I was at Mrs. Springer's I could 
 n't sleep if I wanted to, but in this house I could go 
 to my little room and sleep whenever I felt like it; 
 that makes all the difference in the world." 
 
 " Yes," said the butcher ; " being able to do a thing 
 12 
 
134 THE MEBRY CHANTER. 
 
 is often just as much good to a person as do- 
 ing it." 
 
 " Now tell me another thing," said Lord Crabstairs. 
 "What did you mean by that pumpkin tart?" 
 
 " Tart ! " exclaimed the baker. 
 
 " That 's all right," said the butcher. " We tossed 
 up, and tart it is." 
 
 Griscom Brothers did not seem to understand, but 
 he went on to explain. 
 
 "That was an ordered punkin pie. It is n't the 
 season for that sort of thing, and nobody but me 
 has got any punkins kept over. But old Mrs. Gorm- 
 ish ordered the pie for her grandchild's christening, 
 but when they sent for Mr. Black he could n't come, 
 and they had to have Mr. Startling, and he 's a dys- 
 peptic, and so the old lady sent word to me she did n't 
 want no pie, and it was left on my hands. I always 
 like to have something to eat before I start out in 
 the early morning, so I brought this with me, for 
 there is n't no call for such. When you people came 
 into the kitchen I was fast asleep, but I jumped up 
 quick enough and hurried down to see what was the 
 matter. I was at the window seeing and listening to 
 pretty nearly all you did and said; and when I heard 
 you talking about being so hungry I thought of 
 giving you that pie, and I locked the door to keep 
 you in the kitchen until I thought I had done my 
 duty by you." 
 
 " You did it well," said Doris. " It was a good pie." 
 
 "I dare say," said Lord Crabstairs, "that in this 
 country bakers don't sell meat." 
 
 " No," said Griscom Brothers ; " as a rule they don't." 
 
THE MEEHY CHANTEB. 135 
 
 " Well, then," said his lordship, " as we are pretty 
 well dried and warmed, and as there is nothing more 
 to eat, we might as well be getting back to the ship." 
 
 We all agreed that this was the proper thing to do, 
 and we rose from our seats. 
 
 " Before you go," said Griscom Brothers, address- 
 ing Dolor Tripp, " I want to settle one thing : Do 
 you object to my staying on in that little loft, or 
 must I go back to Mrs. Springer?" 
 
 "I think," said Dolor Tripp, "that it would be 
 much better for you to stay where you are for the 
 present. I am going to Boston, and when I come 
 back I will speak to my sisters about it." 
 
 "Then I '11 pack up my goods," said Griscom 
 Brothers, " the day you come back, for I know what 
 your sisters will say." 
 
 As the baker finished speaking he turned.suddenly, 
 and his eyes fell upon the schoolmaster, who until 
 tliis moment had been keeping well in the back- 
 ground. For an instant the two gazed steadily at 
 each other, then Griscom Brothers exclaimed, — 
 almost screamed: 
 
 "Johnny!" 
 
 The schoolmaster, with his long arms extended, 
 rushed upon the other, and in a moment they were 
 folded in a close embrace. 
 
 The pie ghost was the schoolmaster's father. 
 
 For a few moments nothing was said, and we gazed 
 in amazement upon the embracing couple. Then the 
 butcher beckoned us a little apart and said in a low 
 voice : 
 
 " That young man ran away from home more than 
 
136 THE MEBBT CHANTER. 
 
 twelve years ago. I did n't know him, for all that 
 happened before I came to these parts, but I have 
 often heard the story. I should n't wonder if he has 
 been as much afraid of meeting his dad as of running 
 afoul of Mrs. Bodship." 
 
 Griscom Brothers now stepped forward, holding 
 his son by the hand. 
 
 "Ladies and gentlemen," he said, "who could have 
 thought it, that old Mrs. Gormish's punkin pie should 
 have given me back my son ! If it had n't been 
 that she threw the pie on my hands I should n't have 
 brought it here, and if it had n't been here I should n't 
 have tried to give it to you, and if I had n't done that 
 you never would have ketched me, and if you had n't 
 ketched me I should n't have known that my Johnny 
 was with you." 
 
 "It strikes me," said Lord Crabstairs, "that you 
 ought to thank the clergyman who ate his meals so 
 fast that he gave himself dyspepsia. If he had been 
 able to eat pumpkin tart you wouldn't have found 
 your son." 
 
 " Tart ! " ejaculated the baker. 
 
 " Tart it is," said the butcher ; " tossed up aU 
 square. And now I think it is time for us to be 
 moving." 
 
 " Johnny," said Griscom Brothers, " won't you stay 
 with me to-night ? My bed is wide enough for two." 
 
 But the schoolmaster hesitated, and finally said he 
 thought it would be better for him to go back to the 
 ship, for he had certain work to do in the morning. 
 
 We should have exclaimed against any ship work 
 taking this new-found son from his father, but it was 
 
THE MEBBY CHANTER. 137 
 
 quite plain that the schoolmaster did not wish to stay. 
 Perhaps he thought that if he walked across the 
 country in broad daylight and without the protection 
 of our company Mrs. Bodship might pounce upon him 
 in spite of his disguise. 
 
 " Very well," said his father. " Perhaps it 's better 
 for you to go ; for if you staid here we should talk all 
 night, and neither of us get any sleep." 
 
 The schoolmaster now took his butcher's gown from 
 the crane, where in the course of its frequent shiEtings 
 it had received a number of broad black stripes, and 
 put it on. 
 
 " I suppose there are reasons for your wearing 
 that," said his father, " but I won't ask them now. If 
 you don't sail too early in the morning, I'm coming to 
 see you on board the ship." 
 
 " We shall be delighted to have you visit us," cried 
 Doris ; " and the ship shall not sail until you arrive." 
 
 Preceded by Griseom Brothers, who carried the 
 candle, we now left the kitchen. When we reached 
 the long hallway our leader stopped, and, addressing 
 Dolor Tripp, said that before she went away he would 
 like to show her the picture that her sister was paint- 
 ing of her. 
 
 We all declared that we should like to see that pic- 
 ture, and the baker led us into the dining-room. 
 
 " You need n't be afraid," he said, as we walked 
 after him, "of waking up Alwilda and Lizeth; I 
 never knew two women sleep like they do. I believe 
 their eyelids shut with a snap at nine o'clock, and 
 open with a click at six in the morning." 
 
 The dining-room was large and high, with plain, 
 
138 THE MEBBT CHANTER. 
 
 smooth walls entirely unadorned except by a row of 
 pictures painted on the smooth plaster, at about the 
 eye-line, and intended to extend all around the room. 
 The line on three of the walls was completed. 
 These pictures had all been painted by Alwilda, and 
 the style of them proved that she had been to a great 
 extent her own teacher. The subjects were various, 
 and some of them quite astonishing. "We did not ex- 
 amine the whole gallery, but proceeded to the latest 
 picture, which was yet unfinished. 
 
 This painting, about a yard square, represented 
 Dolor Tripp lying drowned by the sea-shore — this 
 being the fate which her sister expected would befall 
 her, while voyaging to Boston. The wretched plight 
 of the recumbent corpse made us shudder, and the 
 subject of the sketch covered her face with her hands. 
 
 " It is outrageous ! it is shameful ! " cried Doris. 
 " Such a thing ought not to be allowed to exist !" 
 
 " Which it should n't," said Lord Crabstairs, " if I 
 had a pail of whitewash." 
 
 " And a brush," added the butcher. 
 
 " I have that," said Doris, who had been looking 
 about her, and had perceived the artist's materials 
 near by. 
 
 Doris was an amateur artist, and, moreover, was 
 quick to think and act. With a palette, a few colors, 
 and some brushes, she stood before the picture, Gris- 
 com Brothers holding the candle. The pallid features 
 of the drowned maiden soon began to glow with rosy 
 health; her eyes were closed, but it was plain she 
 slept; the sands and shallow water about her changed 
 into soft, green grass, and the tall, slimy weeds which 
 
THE MEBBT CBANTEB. 139 
 
 Had thrown themselves about her form were now 
 green, wavy stems with somewhat too brilliant blos- 
 soms. Even the rocks were covered with soft moss, 
 and the whole scene changed so rapidly under Doris's 
 brush that we were filled with an admiration we did 
 not hesitate to express. 
 
 " I am glad you like it," said Doris. " I 'm sure 
 there's nothing soaked or dead about Dolor Tripp now." 
 
 " When Alwilda Tripp sees that," said Griscom 
 Brothers, " she '11 think there 's been a miracle." 
 
 "Which there has been," remarked the butcher; 
 " an out-and-out square miracle." 
 
 " I don't know what she '11 think," said Dolor Tripp, 
 " but I know what I think ; " and she kissed Doris. 
 
 I think we all would have been delighted to be in 
 that room when Alwilda came down in the morning, 
 but we spoke no more upon the subject, and quickly 
 left the house. 
 
 "I'll lock the door and make everything all right," 
 said Grriscom Brothers, " and soon after breakfast I 
 shall be down at the shore ready to be took on board." 
 
 The schoolmaster picked up his tall silk hat, which 
 still rested on the top of the sandpiper's cage, and put 
 it on; then he took up the cage, looked in at the bird, 
 and was ready to go. 
 
 " Bless my soul ! " exclaimed Griscom Brothers, 
 "you look like a holiday butcher that 's been half- 
 broiled. If you are going to slaughter that bird, don't 
 do it until I come in the morning." 
 
 We now took leave of the baker and left the yard 
 by the opening in the fence, after which the loose 
 palings were restored to their proper position by 
 
140 THE MEBBY CHANTER. 
 
 the butelier. Though the moon was bright, we had 
 some difficulty in finding our way on account of the 
 fog which was coming in from the sea; but the 
 butcher was now our guide, and without serious 
 mishap or much detention we reached the. shore, 
 where we had left our boat. But when we had 
 embarked we found the fog on the bay so thick that 
 we could not see a boat's length in any direction. 
 The schooner, however, was not far from shore, and 
 we thought we could easily reach her; but in this 
 opinion we were mistaken. We rowed and rowed, 
 and still did not reach the ship. How we coTild have 
 taken a wrong direction none of us could imagine, 
 but we turned the boat and rowed and rowed again. 
 
 " Can it be possible," cried Doris, " that our ship has 
 saUed away ? " 
 
 " Absolutely impossible ! " said the butcher, with 
 much fervency. 
 
 We now rowed about, this way a;nd that, for at 
 least half an hour, and I think we all began to be 
 afraid that perhaps we had drifted out to sea. Sud- 
 denly the butcher laid down his oars and requested 
 us all to be quiet ; then standing up in the boat he 
 flapped his elbows two or three times and gave forth 
 a loud cock-a-doodle-do ! There was an instant's 
 silence, and then not far away from the stern of the 
 boat there came an answering cock-a-doodle-do ! 
 
 We all knew that this came from the cock in the 
 rigging of the Merry Chanter. 
 
 In five minutes we were on board. 
 
 " Past midnight," said Captain Cyrus, whose watch 
 it was. 
 
XV 
 
 "WE ARE LOYAL TO THE MEBBT CHANTEB 
 
 lARLY the next morning the fog 
 cleared away, and soon after break- 
 fast we heard a hail from the shore. 
 " It 's father," cried the school- 
 master, who was engaged in giving 
 the usual morning attentions to the 
 sandpiper. 
 
 And, sure enough, looking shoreward, we saw Gris- 
 eora Brothers waving something white in his hand as 
 if it were a flag of truce. 
 
 Captain Cyrus went after him in the boat, and very 
 soon the good baker was on board. 
 
 Bidding us all a cheery good-morning, he handed 
 the white article to the butcher. 
 
 " Here is your gown," he said, " which you left on 
 the grass last night ; and it 's a very good thing you 
 did so. If you want to know why, I 'U tell you." 
 We all wanted to know why, and he told us. 
 "You see," said he, "we always serve the Tripp 
 family with bread on Saturday morning, and this 
 morning I thought I would deliver it myself. I 
 found Lizeth Tripp at the chicken-yard, and she was 
 looking as if she had had a bad night. 
 
142 THE MERRY CHANTER. 
 
 '"Did you sleep well?' I asked, feeling a little 
 nervous, I must say, fearing she had heard some- 
 thing in the night. 
 
 " ' Oh, I slept well enough,' said she, ' but I 've 
 seen sights this morning.' 'What sights?' says I. 
 ' Just listen,' says she. * When I opened the window 
 early this morning the first thing that I saw was 
 something white lying flat on the grass, with its 
 long arms stretched out, as if it was dead. It made 
 me jump, I tell you, for at first I thought it was a 
 spirit, but it was so flat and thin that I next thought 
 it was only the skin of a spirit.' 'Which I did n't 
 know they shed them,' says I. ' Nor I neither,' says 
 she. ' But I tell you it frightened me, and I jumped 
 back from that window and went downstairs; and 
 something seemed to move me to go into the dining- 
 room and look at the picture Alwilda was painting, 
 and when I saw it I was struck worse than ever. 
 I tumbled back into a chair, and for ever so long I 
 could n't move for staring. By good luck Alwilda 
 did n't come into the room, being busy with break- 
 fast. And now I have just come out to ask the hired 
 man to take a pitchfork and carry off that skin or 
 whatever it is, but he has gone away, and I 'm 
 mighty glad to see you. I wish you 'd come into 
 the dining-room and look at the picture.' So, as 
 innocent as a lamb, I followed her into the dining- 
 room, and looked at the picture which you, madam, 
 touched up last night. I must say that, seeing it in 
 the daylight, the young woman in the grass looked 
 as if she had died of a raging fever in the middle of 
 a lot of red-hot flowers. ' What 's the matter with it ? ' 
 
THE MEBBT CHANTER. 143 
 
 says I, as innocent as if I had u't seen the thing done. 
 ' It 's been changed,' says she. ' It was a picture of a 
 soaked corpse, and now it 's a sleeping beauty ; and if 
 the spirit of Dolor Tripp did n't change it, I 'd like to 
 know what spirit did. If she was reaUy lost at sea 
 that 's just the way she 'd come back to comfort us.' 
 'Now, look here,' says I, 'I don't believe in spirits 
 anyway, and if there was any, they could n't paint.' 
 
 "Having been a ghost myself," he said, looking 
 round the company with a smile, " I ought to know 
 what they can do. 
 
 " ' Now then,' says I to Lizeth Tripp, ' it 's my opin- 
 ion that your sistet Alwilda began to feel bad about 
 this picture, and so she altered it herself. Now if I 
 was you I'd rub out the whole thing — that is, if it 
 can be rubbed out.' ' I can clean it all off the wall,' 
 says she ; ' for I 've often seen Alwilda do that thing 
 when she did n't like a picture, and wanted to paint it 
 over again.' And with that she went and got a steel 
 thing like a hoe, and scraped every scrap of that pic- 
 ture off the smooth waU. ' There should n't be no 
 such picture in the house,' says she, ' whether it 's of 
 a drowned sister, or of one asleep on the broad of her 
 ba«k in the middle of a field ; and as fast as Alwilda 
 paints them I '11 scrape 'em out.' 
 
 "Now it seems to me," said Griscom Brothers, 
 " that I got us all out of that scrape pretty well." 
 
 " That 's your way of looking at it," said Lord 
 Crabstairs ; " but it strikes me that Lizeth Tripp is 
 going to get herself into a lot of scrapes if she keeps 
 on scraping out her sister's pictures." 
 
 " Well," continued the baker, " there was n't noth- 
 
144 THE MEBBY CHANTER. 
 
 ing left to clear up but that white thing on the grass, 
 and when I looked at it I told Lizeth it was nothing 
 but a butcher's gown, that most likely had blown over 
 there in the storm. I did n't know it was yours untU 
 I picked it up and saw your name on it. So I said 
 I 'd take it away with me ; and I left as quick as I 
 could, for I did n't want to have to clear up anything 
 more." 
 
 We all agreed that Griscom Brothers had done his 
 part well, and he now retired to the bow of the ship 
 to hold converse with his son. 
 
 Dolor -Tripp was very anxious that this conversa- 
 tion should be speedily terminated, so that we might 
 sail away. She feared that if there should be a quar- 
 rel between Alwilda and Lizeth on account of the one 
 scraping out the pictures of the other, it might become 
 necessary for her to go home and act as peacemaker ; 
 but if she were actually on her way to Boston, this 
 would not be possible. 
 
 Captain Timon, however, assured her there was no 
 hurry, and that Griscom Brothers would have time to 
 talk with his son as long as he liked. 
 
 In half an hour the baker left us. 
 
 " I don't suppose you '11 sail on Sunday," he said ; 
 " and if you don't get off to-day, I '11 come on board 
 again to-morrow." 
 
 " We shall never sail on Sunday," said the butcher, 
 speaking very positively indeed. 
 
 I looked at the butcher, and he looked at me, and 
 we both looked at Captain Timon, who looked out 
 over the sea. 
 
 We did not sail on Sunday, and on Monday evening 
 
THE MERBY CHANTER. 145 
 
 Doris took me aside for what she called a serious con- 
 versation. 
 
 " It seems to me," she said, " that as owners of this 
 ship we are not doing our duty by our passengers. 
 The butcher came on board and paid his passage to 
 Boston; we are not taking him to Boston. Lord 
 Crabstairs came on board to go to Boston ; he paid 
 his passage, and we are not taking him there. The 
 schoolmaster came on board to go somewhere, and we 
 are not taking him anywhere. It is true he paid for 
 no passage ; but we promised to take him to Boston, 
 and we are not taking him. Dolor Tripp is worse off 
 than the others, because she is really afraid that if we 
 do not soon start something will make it necessary 
 for her to go home. As for ourselves, we have taken 
 our chances, and must be content ; and as to the four 
 captains, they also have taken their chances. They 
 undertook to saUthe Merry Chanter to Boston, and if 
 they are delayed on the voyage it is no more our affair 
 than it is theirs. But when people pay money for 
 their passage it is a different matter." 
 
 I had been fishing that day with Lord Crabstairs, 
 and had had very good luck. I expected to go out 
 again the next day, and I said to Doris that for the 
 present I thought we were all very well off as we 
 were. 
 
 " I am very well satisfied to wait," said Doris, " for 
 it is very pleasant here and our living is certainly 
 cheap; but that has nothing to do with our duty 
 towards our passengers." 
 
 " What can we do for them ? " I asked. 
 
 " We can do one of two things," answered Doris. 
 13 
 
146 THE MEEBY CHANTER. 
 
 " We can pay them back their passage money, or 
 send them to Boston by rail." 
 
 " Either one of those things would be pretty hard 
 on MS," I said, " especially after having boarded and 
 lodged them all this time." 
 
 " That has nothing to do mth it," said Doris. 
 "Justice is justice, and we should not take their 
 money and keep them waiting and waiting here for 
 an exceptional high tide." 
 
 I reflected a few moments. "It would be well," I 
 said, " to find out what they think about it. Let us 
 caU a meeting of the ship's company." 
 
 " Good ! " cried Doris ; " and you must preside. 
 You are the proper person to take the chair." 
 
 After supper the meeting was called, and the whole 
 population of the ship, including Griscom Brothers, — 
 who had come on board for an evening visit, — 
 attended. 
 
 " Ladies and gentlemen," said I, — and the moment I 
 had uttered these words I knew that I had made a mis- 
 take. I should have said " shipmates, " or something 
 of that sort, but I went on, — " my wife and I have 
 concluded that we are not doing our duty by you. 
 "We do not know exactly when we shall be able to 
 sail, and we have thought that it might be better to 
 send you to Boston by the railroad." 
 
 At this a little murmur seemed to run through the 
 company, and Doris interrupted me. 
 
 " My husband does not mean," she said, " that we 
 have decided to send you to Boston by raU.. What 
 we desire is, to give you an opportunity of expressing 
 your feelings in regard to the situation. You have 
 
THE MEBBT CEANTEB. 147 
 
 paid your money, and you are entitled to a passage 
 on this ship to Boston ; but if you think you would 
 rather not wait any longer, we will consult together 
 and see what it will be best to do. It may be that 
 you would like to go to Boston by rail." 
 
 At this another murmur, louder than the first, was 
 heard from the company, and the butcher rose to his 
 feet. 
 
 " Is a motion in order ? " he asked. 
 
 " Yes," said Doris. 
 
 I felt that I was presiding over this meeting in 
 rather an odd way, but the oddity did not seem to 
 strike any one else, and the butcher put his motion. 
 
 " I move that we stick to the ship," said he. 
 
 Lord Crabstairs leaned towards Dolor Tripp. 
 " What do you think about it ? " he asked. 
 
 " If I do not go to Boston in this ship," she answered, 
 " I shaU not go at aU." 
 
 " Second the motion," called out Lord Crabstairs. 
 
 " Before the motion is put," said Doris, " we ought 
 to hear what the captains have to say about it." 
 
 The four captains stood in a row on the starboard 
 side of the deck. Being older and more accustomed to 
 speak. Captain Timon spoke for his fellow-mariners. 
 
 " Well," said he, " each of us put some money into 
 this venture, and of course we don't want to lose it. 
 If we don't get to Boston our money is lost. If that 
 money is lost, we want to be able to say that it was n't 
 lost because we gave up the v'yage too soon, but we 
 want to be able to say it was lost because a gale of 
 wind an' a high tide did n't come into Shankashank 
 Bay together. Of course that gale an' that tide may 
 
148 THE MEBST CHANTER. 
 
 never come in together, but we 're in favor of givia' 
 them a leetle longer chance. A good many things in 
 this world would do a sight better than they do do if 
 they had a leetle longer chance. So we four are in 
 favor of stickin' to the ship." 
 
 He looked at his companions, and each one gave an 
 affirmative nod. 
 
 The question was put, and it was unanimously 
 resolved to stick to the ship. 
 
 " Three cheers ! " cried Doris. And the ship's com- 
 pany gave three hearty cheers. 
 
 During the meeting Gri scorn Brothers had neither 
 voted nor spoken, but he cheered with the others. 
 
 " Not being an owner, a passenger or a captain," 
 said he, " of course this is n't my business, but I 'm 
 mighty glad to see you 're going to stand by the ship. 
 It is n't everybody that 's got a ship to stand by. 
 That's what I said to my Johnny. 'Stand by the 
 ship. If you 're going to Boston, go. When you 
 come back, I '11 take you into the baking business, or 
 you can keep on with your sehoolmastering; but 
 whatever you do, you must stick to it.' That 's what 
 I said to my Johnny. And now I say to the rest of 
 you, if you don't sail to-morrow morning I 'U drop in 
 and see you in the afternoon." 
 
 " It 's my opinion," said the butcher to us when 
 Griscom Brothers had gone on shore, "that the 
 schoolmaster would rather go to baking than go to 
 sea, but he 's afraid to show himself on land tiU his 
 father has settled matters with Mrs. Bodship. If any 
 man can do it Griscom Brothers can do it, and he'S' 
 promised to try." 
 
XVI 
 
 DOLOR TEIPP SETS SAIL 
 
 |HE very next day a gale came into 
 the bay with, a flood tide ; but al- 
 though the wind was strong enough 
 to stir up a very fine storm, it did 
 not blow enough water into the bay 
 to float the Merry Chanter. 
 Our four captains were all ready to take advantage 
 of the first indication that our ship was free to ride 
 the waves ; but no such indication came. 
 
 " I 'm afraid she 's voted to stick to the sand bar," 
 said the butcher, when the tide began to ebb. 
 
 With this exception, none of us showed any signs 
 of giving up hope. There would be another high tide 
 in twelve hours, and the gale might increase in 
 violence. 
 
 But although the storm did not move our ship, it 
 greatly delighted some of our company. The bow of 
 the vessel pointed out towards the sea, and for nearly 
 the whole day one or the other of the ladies stood 
 there enjoying the storm. When Doris occupied this 
 post I was with her, and when Dolor Tripp was there 
 the butcher stood on one side of her and Lord Crab- 
 stairs on the other. 
 
150 THE MESBT CSANTEB. 
 
 They could have had no better opportunity of 
 thoroughly enjoying the storm. The waves rolled in, 
 sometimes dashing up to the very feet of the figure 
 of the Merry Chanter, and sometimes throwing the 
 spray over his head and into our faces. The wind 
 whistled through the cordage and blew the cock from 
 the rigging. Fortunately he alighted upon the deck, 
 where he had not set foot since he had been brought 
 to the ship, and he ran screaming and flapping to the 
 coops where the other fowls were sheltered. 
 
 It seemed to me that Doris and Dolor Tripp could 
 not get enough of this turmoil of the elements. 
 
 " To see it all and be in it," said Doris, when we 
 had gone down to the cabin for a brief rest ; " to feel 
 the storm and not to be afraid of it ; to look upon the 
 rolling, tossing waves and yet feel the deck as immov- 
 able as a floor beneath our feet ; to fancy we hear the 
 Merry Chanter shouting his sea-songs into the very 
 teeth of the storm — it is grand! it is glorious! and 
 it is perfectly safe ! " 
 
 For my part I very soon got enough of the turmoil 
 of the elements, and I fancy that the butcher and 
 Lord Crabstairs were satisfled as easily as I was; 
 but, although I frequently entreated Doris to shorten 
 the time of her observations at the bow, I do not 
 believe that the supporters of Dolor Tripp gave the 
 least sign that they did not like the sea wind almost 
 to take away their breath, or the sea water to dash 
 into their faces and drench their clothes. The young 
 woman was enveloped in a waterproof cloak and hood; 
 and although the butcher possessed a garment of this 
 kind, he would not put it on, because by so doing he 
 
THE MEMMT CBANIEE. 151 
 
 ■would have confessed himself less able to endure bad 
 weather than Lord Crabstairs, who had forgotten to 
 provide a mackintosh for the voyage. 
 
 Once I proposed to Doris to allow the schoolmaster 
 to have the pleasure of gazing at the storm with her, 
 but she indignantly repudiated the proposition. 
 
 " Look at those two men," she said ; " do they flinch 
 from the side of the woman they love ? " 
 
 And of course after that I had nothing more to say 
 about a substitute. 
 
 The storm did not increase in violence, but gradu- 
 ally subsided, and the next day was pleasant and 
 clear. Doris occupied herself with her little chicks. 
 The schoolmaster opened the cage of the sandpiper, 
 which had become quite tame, and allowed the bird 
 to take a constitutional upon the deck. The cock flew 
 back to his old position in the rigging and crowed 
 aloud his satisfaction at again feeling himself above 
 us all. Everything seemed to be going on in the 
 same quiet and pleasant methods to which we had 
 become accustomed before the gale had tantalized us 
 with a half hope of Boston. 
 
 But in fact everything was not going on quietly 
 and pleasantly. Lord Crabstairs and the batcher 
 were unquiet and unpleasant; that is, to each other. 
 By the advice of Captain Timon they had estab- 
 lished a system in regard to Dolor Tripp. After 
 breakfast one of them would take the first watch, 
 and at the end of an hour would relinquish his posi- 
 tion by her side to the other. When the second 
 watch of an hour had ended, each of the men would 
 give the lady an hour to herself, thus allowing her to 
 
152 THE MEBBT CMANTEB. 
 
 be undisturbed until noon; after dinner each man 
 went on watcb for an hour, and then Dolor Tripp had 
 two hours to herself. After supper there were no 
 watches, because Captain Timon declared that as 
 long as he commanded the ship he would see no 
 woman overworked. 
 
 But this apparently amicable arrangement did not 
 serve its purpose. It gave each man a fair chance, 
 but each man wanted more. They had become of 
 little social advantage to us, for the one who hap- 
 pened to be off duty was inclined to be silent and was 
 continually looking at his watch. 
 
 As for Dolor Tripp herself, Doris and I could see no 
 reason to suppose that she liked one man better than 
 the other. With Crabstairs she was lively and beam- 
 ing, and apparently delighted that it was his watch. 
 With the biitcher she was lively and beaming, and 
 delighted that he was on duty. 
 
 " What 's wanted on this ship," said Captain 
 Timon to us, " is one man less, or one woman more. 
 If each of them fellers had a gal it 'd be all right, but 
 one gal is n't enough for two of 'em." 
 
 " What would you do about it ? " asked Doris, who was 
 beginning to be disturbed at the turn things had taken, 
 
 " I 'd chuck one of them overboard," said the cap- 
 tain, " an' let him swim ashore." 
 
 " Which one would you chuck ? " I asked. 
 
 " The Englishman," said the captain. " If I 've got 
 to haul down any flag, I'd haul down the Union Jack 
 before the Stars and Stripes." 
 
 " That would n't be fair," said Doris. " One has just 
 as much right as the other." 
 
THE MEBRY CHANTER. 153 
 
 "I suppose that's so," said Captain Timon, with a 
 grin ; " an' as we can't chuck the young woman over- 
 board, I guess we'll have to let the matter settle 
 itself." 
 
 " It seems to me," said I, when the captain had left 
 us, " that a marriage with a British peer would be 
 of miich more advantage than a marriage with a 
 butcher." 
 
 " I don't agree with you," said Doris. " Lord Crab- 
 stairs has repudiated his peerage, and the butcher has 
 repudiated his butcherage ; they now stand on equal 
 ground. Before Lord Crabstairs was overtaken and 
 crushed by his title he was quite as free and in- 
 dependent a man as the butcher is, and now that he has 
 escaped from his peerage he is again just as good as 
 the butcher. He has told us he has a small income 
 not derived from his father's family, and the butcher 
 has saved money, so in every way they are even, and 
 Dolor Tripp ought to be allowed to take her choice 
 between them." 
 
 " The trouble will be," said I, " to induce her to 
 make a choice. I think she Ukes to have two men 
 courting her, and the affair wiU probably end in a 
 fight on the Merry Chanter^ 
 
 " I don't believe it," exclaimed Doris. " Neither of 
 those men would so far forget himself as to fight on 
 my ship." 
 
 " Your ship ! " I said. 
 
 " Oh, I meant to say ours," she answered. 
 
 The next day the butcher took the first watch with 
 Dolor Tripp. At eight o'clock precisely he offered 
 her his arm, and invited her to walk the deck with 
 
154 THE MERHY CHANTER. 
 
 him. I noticed that his face wore a serious expression, 
 and that he was extremely deferential and polite to 
 his companion, guiding her carefully around the wet 
 places on deck, which were still damp from the morn- 
 ing's swabbing, and apparently paying the strictest 
 attention to what she might be saying, as if he was 
 anxious not to lose a word of her sweet speech. 
 
 In the mean time Lord Crabstairs appeared to be in 
 a very unquiet mood. He was restless and excited, 
 and finally filled his pockets with corn and rau up into 
 the rigging, where he fed the cock, who for some time 
 had been crowing for his breakfast. The moment 
 that the butcher's watch had come to an end Lord 
 Crabstairs scuttled down the rope ladder so fast that 
 we were afraid he would slip and break his neck. 
 In an instant he was at the side of Dolor Tripp, and 
 giving her his arm, rapidly conducted her to the bow 
 of the ship, this portion of the deck being now unten- 
 anted. The butcher walked slowly towards us as we 
 sat in our customary seats at the stem. 
 
 " Yon are going to lose a passenger," he said. 
 
 " Which one ? " we cried. 
 
 " That depends on circumstances," said the butcher. 
 " Ton see I made up my mind last night that things 
 could n't go on as they were going on, and so right 
 after breakfast I proposed to him that we should toss 
 up and decide which should put the question to her 
 "We 'd agreed that neither of us should do that with- 
 out giving the other notice. He was ready, quick 
 as lightning, and we tossed. He called ' heads,' and 
 heads it was twice. And he 's got her." 
 
 " But she may not accept him," cried Doris. 
 
THE MEBBY CBANTEB. 155 
 
 " Oh, w she '11 take him; there's no doubt about 
 that," said the butcher looking solemnly down at the 
 deck. " If he proposes first she '11 take him, and if I 
 had proposed first she would have taken me. Neither 
 of us had any doubt on that point." 
 
 Fifteen minutes later no one on board could have 
 had any doubt on that point, for Lord Crabstairs and 
 Dolor Tripp walked towards us, the one with a down- 
 cast, blushing face, and the other with the most beam- 
 ing, joy-lighted countenance I ever saw. 
 » "You see," said Lord Crabstairs, "we have just 
 stepped aft to announce our engagement. We did n't 
 think it exactly the square thing in a small party like 
 this to keep dark about it even for a short time." 
 
 "As if you could do. it!" cried Doris. And then 
 we congratulated the happy couple, the butcher 
 shaking hands with each of them with a degree of 
 earnest solemnity not common on such occasions. 
 
 Lord Crabstairs and his lady-love now went below 
 to acquaint the schoolmaster and the four captains 
 with what had occurred. 
 
 " And now," said Doris to the butcher, " what were 
 you going to say about our losing a passenger?" 
 
 " "Well," said he, " if they stay on board I go, but if 
 they go ashore I '11 stay here. I don't want to go back 
 on my word about sticking to the ship, but circum- 
 stances often give a new twist to things." 
 
 "Indeed they do," said Doris, speaking in a very 
 sympathetic tone and offering her hand to the 
 butcher. 
 
 " I 'm mighty glad of it," said Captain Cyrus to us 
 a little while afterwards. " I don't know when I 've 
 
156 THE MEBBY CHANTER. 
 
 heard anythin' that 's pleased me better. For the life 
 of me I could n't see how they were goin' to get out 
 of that fix without its en din' in a row. It was only 
 yesterday, madam, that I thought that if you was 
 only disengaged it would be all right, for then there 
 would be two young women, one for each of them ; 
 but you was settled for, and there was only one 
 young woman for the two men. But now it 's aU 
 straightened out and we can have peace on board." 
 I wish here to record the fact that from that mo- 
 ment I never made a voluntary observation to Captain 
 Cyrus Bodship. 
 
XVII 
 
 HOW LIZETH AND ALWILDA TOOK IT 
 
 i|HEN Griscom Brothers came on 
 board that afternoon and heard 
 the news he was delighted. 
 
 "I thought it would come to 
 that," he said. " Title is bound to 
 get ahead of meat. And what do 
 the happy lovers intend to do? 
 Will they remain on board and go to Boston?" 
 
 "No," said Doris; "they leave us this afternoon. 
 Dolor Tripp is in her cabin packing her trunk. She 
 will go home to her sisters, and Lord Crabstairs will 
 lodge in the villaige, where he can go and see her every 
 day. They are to be married as soon as possible." 
 
 " I am mighty glad," said Griscom Brothers, " that 
 Dolor Tripp is going home ; she 's needed there. Ever 
 since Lizeth scraped out Alwilda's picture them two 
 sisters have n't spoke. That sort of thing has hap- 
 pened before. As much as six weeks or two months 
 has passed without either of them speaking a word 
 to each other, and at such times Dolor has to be a 
 sort of go-between to tell one what the other wants. 
 They 've had a pretty tough puU of it this time 
 without her." 
 
 14 157 
 
158 THE MERBT CSANTEB. 
 
 " What do they do," I asked ; " make signs to each 
 other?" 
 
 " No, " said the baker. " When one of them has to 
 ask something of the other, she goes out to the hired 
 man and tells him to go into the house and speak to 
 her sister. But his boots are so dirty that they never 
 do this unless they are positively obliged to. Lizeth 
 told me that yesterday she was nearly starving for 
 butter because she could n't make up her mind to tell 
 that man to ask Alwilda where she had put the milk- 
 house key." 
 
 Dolor Tripp now came on deck ready to go ashore, 
 and in a few moments Lord Crabstairs appeared, 
 glowing with ruddy joy, and loaded with a huge 
 valise, a bundle of rugs, a hat-box, and a collection of 
 umbrellas and canes. 
 
 Their intention was to go together and acquaint 
 the sisters J3f Dolor Tripp with what had happened, 
 and ask their blessing. Doris thought it was the 
 proper thing for her to go with Dolor, and as it 
 promised to be an interesting occasion I thought it 
 the proper thing to go with Doris. Griscom Brothers 
 said that on his way to the village he could stop at the 
 Tripp house just as well as not, and that he would do 
 it ; whereupon the schoolmaster remarked that as the 
 party would be so large he would not be afraid to go 
 with them himself. At first the butcher seemed in- 
 clined to stay on board, but after taking me aside and 
 remarking that if he did not go with us it might look 
 as if he were showing bad feeling in the matter, he 
 joined the party. 
 
 Only the four captains remained on the Merry 
 
THE MEBBT CHANTEE. 159 
 
 Chanter. These faithful mariners must be at their 
 posts in case the exceptional wind and the exceptional 
 tide came into the bay together. 
 
 Our boat had to make two trips before we were all 
 landed, and then we walked to the house. Griscom 
 Brothers and the schoolmaster carried the huge 
 valise, in order that Lord Crabstairs could give one 
 arm to his lady-love ; and the butcher, to his honor 
 be it said, relieved his late rival of the hat-box and the 
 package of umbrellas and canes. Dolor Tripp said 
 she could send the hired man for her baggage. 
 
 We found Lizeth in the poultry-yard. 
 
 " Lizeth," said Dolor Tripp, blushing a Uttle, " this 
 is Lord Crabstairs." 
 
 " Lord which ? " exclaimed Lizeth, 
 
 "Crabstairs," replied her sister; "and we are 
 going to be married." 
 
 Lizeth looked at them in astonishment. " You 
 two ! " she exclaimed. 
 
 " Only the two of us," said Dolor. " And I want 
 you to Kke him, Lizeth ; you ought to like your 
 brother-in-law." 
 
 " Do you mean to say," said Lizeth, speaking slowly, 
 " that this man is a sure-enough foreign lord ? " 
 
 " Yes," said her sister ; " he 's an out-and-out peer 
 of the British realm." 
 
 Lizeth looked as if she were going to whistle, but 
 she did not. 
 
 " It is a fair and square thing for me to say," re- 
 marked Lord Crabstairs, " that I am a lord against 
 my will, and my title brings me no property except 
 two centuries of debts," 
 
160 THE MEBET CHANTER. 
 
 " But you really are an Englisli nobleman 1 " asked 
 Lizeth. 
 
 " Yes," said Lord Crabstairs, " I am." 
 
 Lizetli now looked steadfastly at her sister and at 
 the sturdy Englishman by her side. Then she looked 
 at the rest of us, and then spoke. 
 
 " I don't believe in monarchies," she said, " nor in 
 kings, nor in crowns and scepters, nor in aristocra- 
 cies, nor in peers and realms. I am a plain, free- 
 born, independent republican, and look down upon 
 empires and thrones. My ancestors did not come 
 over in the Mayflower, but I am quite sure that they 
 came in a plain, wooden ship, and did n't put on any 
 airs. As I said before, I 've nothing to do with peers 
 and peeresses, nor kings and queens. I am a free- 
 born American, and a free-born American I shall die, 
 but if he really is a lord I suppose he can have you." 
 At this Dolor Tripp hung upon her sister's neck and 
 kissed her, and then we all went to make the an- 
 nouncement to Alwilda, 
 
 We found the elder sister in the dining-room paint- 
 ing a picture upon the wall. She was at work upon a 
 small blue house, surrounded by flowers and shrub- 
 beries of the brightest and gayest colors. Birds with 
 brilliant plumage were flying through the air ; there 
 was a sunset glow in the sky ; and a young woman 
 with a red shawl and a yellow petticoat was playing 
 a harp in the foreground. 
 
 Dolor Tripp was so struck by this work of art that 
 she was obliged to satisfy her curiosity about it before 
 stating the object of her visit. 
 
 "What in the world is that, Alwilda?" she exclaimed. 
 
THE MEBBY CHANTER. 161 
 
 "That," said the artist, stepping back from the 
 wall, but taking no notice of the presence of our party, 
 " is a home in the midst of all sorts of things that are 
 joyful to look at or to listen to or to smell ; but, in 
 spite of all that, the person that lives in the house is 
 blue, and everything in it is blue, and the very house 
 itself is blue." 
 
 " Do you live in that house ? " asked her sister. 
 
 " At present I do," was the answer. 
 
 " "Well, I am come to make your house a livelier 
 color," said Dolor Tripp. "Alwilda, this is Lord 
 Crabstairs." 
 
 The tall woman turned the front of her black-and- 
 white sunbonnet upon his lordship. " What does he 
 want," she said ; " some more chickens ? " 
 
 " No," said Dolor Tripp ; " he wants me." 
 
 Alwilda looked steadfastly at the couple, now hold- 
 ing each other by the hand. 
 
 "A lord? "she said. 
 
 " Yes," said her sister ; " really and truly an Eng- 
 lish lord." 
 
 " You are quite sure," asked Alwilda, " that he is n't 
 a German count ? " 
 
 " Of course not," replied her sister, hotly. 
 
 " Or a Spanish duke ? " asked Alwilda. 
 
 " Ridiculous ! " said Dolor. " How could he be ? " 
 
 " Or a Highland chief, or an African king?" asked 
 the other. 
 
 And at this we all laughed. 
 
 " "Well," said Alwilda, " they are just as likely to 
 say they are one of these things as another, and I 
 don't suppose it makes much difference which it is. 
 
162 THE MEBBY CHANTER. 
 
 But if you two are really going to be married there is 
 one thing I want to ask you. When you set up house- 
 keeping, do you intend to have one single bedstead, 
 and no more, in your spare room 1 " 
 
 " What in the world do you mean by that 1 " cried 
 her sister. 
 
 "I mean," said the other, "that I want to know, 
 when I come to see you, if I 'm to have the spare room 
 all to myself, or if there 's to be somebody else there 
 at the same time with me. If she 's to be there," 
 motioning out of doors, " at the same time that I am, 
 then I don't want to go, and I don't want to have any- 
 thing to do with your marrying, or your housekeep- 
 ing. But if I 'm to have the room to myself, then I 
 suppose there 's nothing more to be said." 
 
 "You shall have it," cried Lord Crabstairs. "I 
 shall have a bedstead built, in which there shall not 
 be room for two fishing-rods." 
 
 " Then, Alwilda," cried Dolor Tripp, " j'ou approve 
 of our marriage ? " 
 
 " It 's better than drowning," said her sister. "And 
 taking it all in all," she continued, after a little reflec- 
 tion, "I'm rather glad you wanted to marry a 
 foreigner. Americans are too uppish ; but when you 
 get hold of a man that is accustomed to being down- 
 trodden, it 's easy to keep him so." 
 
 At this Lord Crabstairs roared with laughter till 
 the ceiling echoed, and we all joined in. 
 
 Alwilda did not smile, but looked from one to the 
 other, and when the laughter had ceased she asked 
 Grriscom Brothers how much she owed him for bread. 
 
 The merry baker declared he did not carry his 
 
THE MEBBT CHANTER. 163 
 
 account with him, and then Lord Crabstairs stepped 
 forward and spoke. 
 
 "I wish you to understand, madam," he said to 
 Alwilda, "that your sister is not marrying a rich 
 lord. My income is a very small one, and I shall be 
 obliged to go into some work or other to support 
 myself and my wife." 
 
 " Oh, money does n't matter," said Alwilda, turning 
 towards her picture. " Dolor has money." 
 
 " I 'd like to know where," exclaimed her youngest 
 sister. 
 
 " In the bank," said Alwilda ; " gathering interest." 
 
 "And you never told me!" cried Dolor Tripp, 
 excitedly. 
 
 " Why should I ? " answered Alwilda. " What call 
 had you for money ? When you should come of age 
 you were to have it, or when you should marry you 
 were to have it. Now you and your African king will 
 have it." 
 
 The statement that Dolor Tripp was possessed of 
 a fortune, though probably a small one, created a 
 profound sensation among us, and our congratula- 
 tions were warm and sincere. We were about to 
 depart when Doris addressed Alwilda. 
 
 "I would like very much to know," she -said, 
 "whether or not you now intend to alter the color 
 of the house in your picture?" 
 
 " Well," said Alwilda, meditatively, " I think I shall 
 paint the roof red, but I shall wait to see how things 
 turn out before I change the color of the rest of the 
 house." 
 
 " I tell you what it is," said Griscom Brothers, when 
 
164 THE MEEBT CHANTEB. 
 
 we were outside, and he and Lord Crabstairs were 
 starting for the village, " there will soon be an end to 
 them two sisters keeping mum to each other. There 's 
 nothing on earth could keep them from talking about 
 Dolor's getting married." 
 
 It was late in the evening when we reached the 
 Merry Chanter, an d our supper was much less lively than 
 when Dolor Tripp and Lord Crabstairs were with us. 
 
 " I had begun to feel satisfied to wait here," said 
 Doris, when we had gone on deck ; " but now I am 
 sure I shall feel lonely, and I think we must ask the 
 captains to do their very best to leave the bay and 
 start for Boston, even if the tide and wind do not 
 exactly suit." 
 
 "Yes," said I; "we '11 talk to them in the morning." 
 
 " What do you think about it? "she said to the butcher. 
 
 " Well," he answered, " I don't know that it 's my 
 place to give advice." 
 
 " You 're too modest," said Doris. 
 
 Shortly after this the butcher took the opportunity 
 to speak to me privately. 
 
 " If I were to marry that young woman who 's left 
 us," said he, " and she was on board this ship, and 
 worrying and hankering to start for Boston, it strikes 
 me I-would tell her aU about the sand bank and the 
 barnacles and the seventy cart-loads of paAdng stones 
 in the hold." 
 
 I looked at him severely. " But you are not mar- 
 ried to her," I said ; " and not being married, you do 
 not know what a married person should say to the 
 person to whom he is married." 
 
 To this the butcher made no reply. 
 
xvm 
 
 THE CAPTAINS SPEAK 
 
 5 HE next morning Doris spoke her 
 mind to the captains. 
 
 "We must do something," she 
 said. " If we can't do one thing, let 
 us do another. We must set sail for 
 Boston without delay." 
 "Madam," said Captain Garnish, "Dolor Tripp's 
 trunk is still on board, and no matter what happens, 
 we cannot sail until she sends for that." 
 Doris stamped her foot impatiently. 
 " What a thing to wait for ! " she said. 
 Half an hour afterwards a man with a cart ap- 
 peared on the shore, and hailing the ship, he shouted 
 lustily that he had come for a trunk. Two of the 
 captains took the trunk to him in the boat, and when 
 they returned we noticed that each of them heaved a 
 little sigh. 
 
 " Now the last link is broken," remarked Doris. 
 " There are some links," said the butcher, " that are 
 mighty hard to break." 
 
 Doris looked at him compassionately. She thought 
 he referred to the link between himself and Dolor 
 
 16!; 
 
166 THE MEBBT CBANTEB. 
 
 Tripp, but I knew that he meant the link between 
 the bottom of the Merry Chanter and the sand bank. 
 
 It was now plain to me that the captains felt that 
 matters had come to a crisis, and that they must 
 either do something or say something. For an hour 
 they held a conference in the forecastle, and then 
 they came aft in a body. 
 
 Captain Timon, being the oldest, spoke first. 
 
 " We captains," said he, " have been considerin' a 
 lot about this ship, an' as the owners, an' perhaps 
 the passengers that are left, may be gettin' a little 
 worried at the longishness of our v'yage to Boston, 
 we feel — an' it 's no more than right to let 'em know 
 it — that sailin' to Boston in this vessel is n't what we 
 call plain sailin'. This is an old vessel, an' she 's 
 been lyin' in the dock so long that her hull is a good 
 deal more barnacle than it is timber. Now it 's pretty 
 nigh impossible to saU a ship when her hull is more 
 than half barnacles. Of course most of the barnacles 
 could be scraped off at low tide, but if we did that 
 we 'd open the seams of the old schooner, an' she 'd 
 leak like a flour-sieve." 
 
 " Why did n't you tell us this before ? " cried Doris, 
 indignantly. 
 
 " Well," said Captain Timon, slowly, " you was the 
 owners, an' you wanted to go to Boston, an' we would 
 have sailed you there if we could have done it." 
 
 " And there 's another thing," said Captain G-arnish. 
 " Them pavin' stones in the hold is too heavy for this 
 vessel ; they sink her too deep. Of course we could 
 go to work and throw them out, but I 've followed the 
 sea pretty nigh all my life, and I know that it would n't 
 
THE MERRY CHANTER. 167 
 
 be safe to take this schooner outside the bay with a 
 pound less ballast in her than she 's got in her now." 
 -" This should certainly have been told to us," said 
 Doris, very sternly. 
 
 " There 's another p'int," said Captain Teel, " that 
 might be overlooked by people that ain't sailors. This 
 ship is short-handed. Of course there 's enough of us 
 aboard to sail her in fair weather, and when we 
 cleared for Boston we thought that the spell of fine 
 weather we was then havin' would more than likely 
 last to the end of the v'yage. But there 's no knowin' 
 what sort of weather we are likely to have now, and 
 if we was to be beatin' up the coast in a heavy gale, 
 and if one of us was to be at the wheel, and another 
 on the lookout, and another castin' the lead, and 
 another battenin' down the for'ard hatches, it stands 
 to reason that there would n't be nobody to take in 
 the topsels." 
 
 Doris was flushed with anger, and I was on the 
 point of bursting out into uncontrollable vituperation, 
 when Captain Cyrus, with a smiling face and pleasant 
 voice, spoke up. 
 
 " What we cap'ns want to do," said he, " is to be 
 fair all 'round. We want to be fair to you, and fair 
 to ourselves. Now here 's Cap'n Timon, Cap'n Gar- 
 nish, and Cap'n Teel, that 's aU got houses of their 
 own, which they 've let furnished by the month to 
 summer visitors. Now if we had sailed straight from 
 Mooseley to Boston we 'd have been there and back 
 before the month was out and these three cap'ns could 
 have been on hand to collect the advance rent for 
 another month, either from them tenants or some 
 
168 THE MERBT CHANTER. 
 
 others. But as things is, and is likely to be, it don't 
 stand to reason that we can get to Boston and back 
 before the end of the month. Now I am not speakin' 
 for myself, but for my mates. I 've got a house and 
 it 's furnished, but I can't let it, for there is no knowin' 
 what time Mrs. Bodship might want to come there, 
 and it would n't do for her to find a tenant in it. So 
 you see it 's not my interests I 'ra speakin' for." 
 
 Doris could not say a word, but my anger broke 
 forth. 
 
 " You miserable, old, salt-pickled fishermen ! " said 
 I, " why don't you speak the truth and be done with 
 it? You know that you have run our vessel aground 
 and you can't get her off. I could have sailed her 
 better myself." 
 
 Captain Grarnish advanced with flashing eye and 
 clenched fist. 
 
 " Young man," he roared, " if you had n't your 
 wife with you, I 'd show you the difference between a 
 pickled fisherman and a live clam ! " 
 
 The butcher now stepped boldly between the cap- 
 tains and the owners. 
 
 " No more of this," he said. " I am only a passen- 
 ger, but so long as I am on this ship there 'U be no 
 fighting on board of her." 
 
 The butcher owned a cleaver, and his words were 
 respected. 
 
 Doris rushed down to her cabin, where she burst 
 out crying, and I followed her. We had rather a 
 doleful time together ; but after a while we heard the 
 cheery voice of Griscom Brothers, who had come on 
 board for his daily visit, and we went on deck. After 
 
THE MEBBT CHANTER. 169 
 
 his usual hearty salutations to us all, the baker 
 addressed the butcher : 
 
 " Lord Crabstairs sent a message to you. He said 
 he has n't no use for chickens now. He told me to 
 teU you that, expecting to spend most of his spare 
 time till he gets married in going backward and for- 
 ward between the village and the Tripps' house, he 
 makes a present of all his poultry to you, knowing 
 that you will take good care of it." 
 
 " If Lord Crabstairs thinks," said the butcher, " that 
 what has happened is going to be covered up by nine 
 fuU-grown hens and a year-old cockerel, he has mis- 
 taken his man ; but if he just wants to give them to 
 me as plain fowls from one man to another, I 'U take 
 them and send him thanks." 
 
 " That 's what he meant," cried Griscom Brothers. 
 " He as much as said so to me ; and so you can just 
 pitch in and feed them, for they are yours." 
 
 Looking about him as he was speaking, Griscom 
 Brothers perceived that something had happened, and 
 that aU was not right with us. He was about to 
 speak, when I led him aside and explained the situa- 
 tion. 
 
 " That 's a pity ; that 's a great pity," said he, 
 shaking his head. "It 's a bad thing to have ill- 
 feeling break out among people who are voyaging 
 together on a ship, but we must see what can be 
 done to straighten out matters." 
 
 Before, however, he could offer any suggestions to 
 
 this end, the butcher came aft with a message from 
 
 the four captains. I was not on very good terms 
 
 with the butcher, but he spoke pleasantly to me as 
 
 15 
 
170 THE MEBBY CHANTEB. 
 
 well as to Doris. He informed us that the captains had 
 decided that, on the morrow, they would return to 
 their homes by land in order to attend to their 
 private affairs. If, after the end of the month, it 
 should be considered advisable not to endeavor to 
 take the Merry Chanter to Boston, they would be 
 content with their share of the money paid by the 
 passengers, and would relinquish all further claims 
 upon the schooner. 
 
 " In that case," said Doris, " we must go on shore, 
 also." 
 
 "It is base conduct on the part of the captains," 
 said I. "I do not object to go on shore, but I object 
 to being forced to do so by their desertion of our 
 ship." 
 
 " The ship shall not be deserted," said the butcher. 
 " I shall remain on board. I have aU my belongings 
 here, and I am very comfortable. I have my poultry 
 to take care of and plenty of things to do ; and as I 
 can go on shore in the boat whenever I feel like it, 
 I am not afraid to be here without sailors, for I don't 
 believe any storm that could come into this bay could 
 move the Merry Chanter. However, I shall keep the 
 anchor out, for the sake of appearances. It does n't 
 mean any more than ' esquire ' to a man's name, but 
 it looks well. Now how does that plan strike the 
 owners ! " 
 
 Doris declared that if the butcher really desired to 
 stay on the ship, we should be very glad to have him 
 do so. 
 
 "In that case," said Griscom Brothers, "if you 
 want Johnny to stay with you, he can do it ; but if 
 
THE MEBBY CHANTER. 171 
 
 you don't want him, I '11 take him home and set him 
 to baking. It is time he was in some solid business. 
 And as for you, Madam, and your husband, if you 
 want to stay around in this neighborhood, there is 
 the Tripp house. There 's plenty of room in it, and 
 I believe Alwilda and Lizeth would like you to board 
 with them for a while." 
 
 " That would suit me exactly," said Doris. " I wish 
 to be somewhere where I can see the Merry Chanter 
 whenever I choose to go and look at it." 
 
 " Which is quite natural," said Griseom Brothers ; 
 "and we had better call this business settled. And 
 now I '11 go ashore, and engineer the matter with 
 Alwilda and Lizeth. I know I can do it." 
 
 The next day the four captains, being ready to go 
 before we were, came in a body to take leave of us. 
 
 " We don't want to go away," said Captain Timon, 
 speaking for the others, " without sayin' to you both 
 that we part, on our side, quite friendly. Bygones is 
 bygones. If we could have got you to Boston, we 
 would have got you there, an' been glad of it. But 
 we could n't and we did n't, so there 's an end of it. 
 If you ever get your ship floated, an' towed into 
 fresh water where her barnacles would drop off, an' 
 have her fitted up so that she won't need so many 
 pavin' stones, we might be willin' to ship on her 
 again, an' see what we could do to get her to Boston 
 for you. But tiU that time comes, we bid you good- 
 by. An' here 's our hands, wishin' you good luck 
 an' lots of it." 
 
 Doris shed some tears as she shook hands with the 
 four old mariners; and although my sense of per- 
 
172 THE MEBBY CHANTEB. 
 
 sonal dignity demanded that I should not take their 
 hands, I did so for fear of further annoying my 
 wife. 
 
 In the afternoon Doris and I also left our ship, — 
 temporarily, as my wife earnestly declared, — and 
 repaired to the house of the Tripp sisters, who 
 were perfectly willing to accommodate us until we 
 determined what it should be best for us to do. 
 
 The schoolmaster went home with his father, who 
 vowed to protect him against Mrs. Bodship at all 
 hazards ; and the butcher was left alone on board the 
 Merry Chanter. 
 
XIX 
 
 HORRIBLE SEA-WEEDS FLAP OVER HER 
 
 UR days with the Tripp family 
 passed pleasantly enough. I went 
 fishing, and sometimes Doris went 
 with me. Doris went sketching, 
 and sometimes I went with her. 
 Dolor Tripp was in high spirits, and 
 her sister Lizeth developed quite a pleasant humor. 
 Lord Crabstairs spent every day, and the greater part 
 of every evening, in the company of his beloved one ; 
 and, consequently, he was a good deal in our com- 
 pany, and seldom failed to make things lively in one 
 way or another. 
 
 Grriscom Brothers was a regular visitor. He had 
 not yet arranged to leave his quarters over the old 
 kitchen, and generally spent the nights there, giving 
 up his room in the village to his son. He did not 
 altogether relinquish his line of business as a ghost, 
 especially when he had reason to believe that on 
 account of moonlight walks or late departure of a 
 visitor some outer door had been left unfastened. In 
 his wanderings about the house he frequently depos- 
 ited some delicacy in his line at the door of the room 
 occupied by Doris and myself, and I am sure that in 
 
174 THE MEBBT CHANTER. 
 
 this regard Dolor Tripp was not forgotten. The 
 butcher could be depended upon for a visit at least 
 every second day. Occasionally the schoolmaster 
 came, but he was a quiet man who did not c&vg to do 
 much walking about the country. 
 
 In about ten days after our arrival, Dolor Tripp 
 and Lord Crabstairs were married. A clergyman 
 came over from the village, and we had a very pleas- 
 ant little wedding, which was made more cheerful by 
 Alwilda, who, as soon as the ceremony was com- 
 pleted, proceeded at once to the dining-room, and 
 changed the color of the blue house in her latest pic- 
 ture to bright yeUow with scarlet window-frames. 
 After a banquet, in which the talent of Griscom 
 Brothers shone to marvelous efEect, the happy couple 
 proceeded on their wedding trip. 
 
 About a week after the wedding, Doris and I were 
 down at the edge of Shankashank Bay. Across the 
 stretch of water that separated the Merry Chanter 
 from the shore Doris and the butcher were holding a 
 high-pitched conversation, when this voice-destroying 
 dialogue was cut short by the arrival of a boy in a 
 funny little cart resembling a wooden wash-basin 
 on wheels, who brought us a telegram from the near- 
 est station. The message was from Montreal, at 
 which place we knew the newly married couple in- 
 tended making a considerable stay. It was from the 
 young bride, and it read thus : 
 
 "I am shipwrecked, and lying drowned upon the 
 shore, cold and dead. Horrible sea-weeds flap over 
 me. He wiU write. — Dolor." 
 
 With pallid cheeks Doris and I read this again and 
 
THE MEMBT CBANTEB. 175 
 
 again, but what it meant we could not divine. We 
 knew it meant misery of some sort, but what sort of 
 misery neither of us could imagine. At last, not 
 knowing^ what to do, we determined to take the 
 butcher into our confidence, and hailed him to come 
 ashore. In a few minutes his boat grated upon the sand. 
 
 He read the telegram, and looked as black as night. 
 Doris whispered in my ear : " He must not go back 
 after his cleaver. We must not let him do that ! " In 
 a few moments, however, the storm-clouds on the face 
 of the butcher began to disappear. 
 
 " At first I thought," he said, " that that man had de- 
 ceived her; that he's not a lord. But, considering 
 that he did n't want to be a lord, and put on no airs 
 about it, I don't believe the trouble is there." 
 
 " But where is it ? " said I. 
 
 The butcher shook his head. 
 
 "It's no use going to them," he said, " until we 
 know what has happened. We must wait for the letter." 
 
 " Do you think of goitig to them ? " asked Doris in 
 surprise. 
 
 " Certainly," said the butcher ; " if I am needed." 
 
 That was a doleful day for us. We felt obliged to 
 teU the Tripp sisters of the telegram, and the effect of 
 the mysterious message was to throw Lizeth into a fit 
 of grumbling that Dolor should be so foolish as to stir 
 them up with a telegfam like that when a letter was 
 on its way, and to send Alwilda into the dining-room, 
 where she began work upon an enormous tombstone, 
 large enough to contain the names of all her family. 
 
 The butcher went to the village, where he said he 
 would stay until a letter came, and then bring it to 
 
176 THE MEBBY CHANTEB. 
 
 US forthwith. Grriscom Brothers was taken into 
 council, and he declared it was his opinion that it was 
 clams. Dolor would be sure to call for them, and as 
 the Canadians were not a clam-eating people they 
 probably did not know how to cook them. Nothing 
 would be more likely to give rise to a telegram like 
 that than a quantity of badly cooked clams. He felt 
 keenly on this point, for he knew how clams should be 
 cooked so that they would hurt no one, and had he been 
 in Montreal the case might have been quite different. 
 
 The next day at noon, the butcher, who had stayed 
 in the village all night, leaving his poultry, the sand- 
 piper, and the Merry Chanter to take care of them- 
 selves, brought a letter from Lord Crabstairs. 
 
 It was addressed to me, and read as follows : 
 
 My deak Sik : I am sorry to be obliged to ■write to you that 
 I have been knocked out of time worse than any man ever was 
 since the beginning of the world. My wife sent you a telegram 
 this morning, but she tells me she did not go into details, so I 
 shall write yon how matters stand, although it is not of the 
 least use, except to make our friends unhappy. We stopped at 
 Boston, because Dolor said that as she had originally started to 
 go there she would like to do it, and she did me the honor to de- 
 clare that she traveled with as merry a chanter as if she had 
 sailed in your ship. Then she wanted to go to Montreal, and 
 we went there ; for I was not in the least afraid to travel in 
 Canada, where I knew no one, and where I should register no 
 name but that of George Garley, which I bore before I came into 
 the title. Well, we saw the sights of Montreal, and they did us 
 no harm. But one of the Cabinet Ministers happened to be in 
 town, and they gave him a public reception, and of course Dolor 
 wanted to go to that, and we went. A lot of heavy swells went 
 in ahead of us, each with some sort of a title or other, and I 
 noticed as Dolor heard these names called out she got more and 
 more uneasy, and just as we were coming up to the scratch she 
 
THE MERBY CHANTEB. 177 
 
 took out of my hand a card on which I had written " Mr. and 
 Mrs. Garley," and herself gave to the usher one of the cards 
 which we had had printed for use in the States only. When we 
 were announced as Lord and Lady Crabstairs, we created a fine 
 sensation, I assure you ; for nobody of that rank had gone in 
 yet, and I dare say there is no duchess in England who can 
 carry herself in better style and form than my little wife did. 
 She was as proud as a gilded peacock, and I must say that I was 
 a good deal that way myself. I had never had any good of the 
 title, and I was glad something had come of it. Dolor was so 
 particularly tickled by the deferential manner in which she was 
 treated that I was ashamed I had ever thought of presenting 
 the card of Mr. and Mrs. Garley. The next morning, when I 
 went into the reading-room of the hotel, the first man I saw was 
 that infernal attorney who had brought me the news, in front of 
 my own house, of my accession to the title and the debts. It is of 
 no use to write much about this ; it is too beastly miserable 
 even to think about. The wretched cad had found out I had 
 gone to America, and the inheritors of the claims had sent him 
 over to look me up. But he had not heard a bit about me until 
 he saw in the morning paper that Lord and Lady Crabstairs had 
 attended the reception the evening before. He had the papers, 
 and he nabbed me on the spot, and now I go back to England to 
 spend the rest of my life in a debtor's dimgeon, and to think 
 that my poor dear did it simply because she thought I ought to be 
 as big a swell as any of them. I vow I wish I had done it myself. 
 Well, it is all up. Life is all up. Everything is all up, so far as 
 we are concerned. The whole world has gone to the bad. What 
 is to be done, I cannot say. In a week I am to sail for England, 
 but it is impossible for Dolor to go with me. She would not be 
 allowed to share my dungeon, and I would not have her do it. 
 Moreover, I could not endure to look through a narrow slit in 
 the wall and see her wandering about the neighborhood where 
 she did not know one street from another, and wasting to a 
 skeleton day by day. But how I am to go away and leave her, 
 I know not. So here we are in blackest misery. By the eleven 
 devils who continually howl around Judas Iscariot, I wish that 
 the first Lord Crabstairs had been born dead ! 
 
 Tours wretchedly, Cbabstaies. 
 
 For the sake of Dolor, I stick to the title. 
 
178 THE MEBBY CHANTER. 
 
 This letter was read aloud in the presence of the 
 two Tripp sisters, Doris, and the butcher. When 
 it was finished Alwilda and Lizeth arose without a, 
 word, put on their black-and-white striped sunbon- 
 nets, and went out — one to the dining-room, an^ 
 the other to the poultry-yard. Doris and I gazed q,<; 
 each other in silence, but the butcher stood up wit^ 
 flashing eyes and heaving breast. 
 
 " Who is to go to Montreal ? " he said. 
 
 " To Montreal ? " I repeated. " There 's no use in 
 any one going there in a case like this; there is 
 nothing to be done." 
 
 " If no one else goes," said the butcher, " I shall go." 
 
 " That you shall not do," said Doris. " It would not 
 be suitable or proper. I am going." 
 
 She went, and of course I went with her. 
 
 We found the bridal couple in doleful plight. Lord 
 Crabstairs was a prisoner in his hotel, awaiting the 
 departure of the steamer on which his passage had 
 been taken. Poor Dolor was plunged in blackest 
 grief. 
 
 " Of course you did not understand the telegram 
 I sent," she sobbed. " It was n't half strong 
 enough." 
 
 Her husband was a brave feUow, and tried to put 
 the best face on the matter, especially when his wife 
 was present. 
 
 "I dare say I shall have a bit of a jolly time now 
 and then," he said, "and that things will not be quite 
 as bad as we have been thinking they would be. I 
 never speak to that wretched cad of an attorney 
 
THE MEBBT CHANTER. 179 
 
 about anythiag, but I bave beard that tbey turn 
 debtors iuto a court now and tben to take the fresh 
 air, and perhaps they '11 let me keep chickens. That 
 would be no end jolly I And, more than that," he 
 exclaimed, his whole face lighting up, "who knows but 
 that they 'U let me have a cow ? I know I could keep 
 a cow in a stone court-yard, and if they will let me 
 serve milk and eggs to the fellows in the other dun- 
 geons I would have lots to do, especially when it came 
 to the collecting of the monthly bills." 
 
 This kind of talk may have cheered the poor man 
 a little, but it did not cheer us. Our principal concern 
 was for Dolor. We had read stories of the Fleet and 
 the Marshalsea, and supposed it likely that Lord 
 Crabstairs might in time learn to endure life in a 
 debtors' prison ; but Dolor would be an absolute 
 stranger in England, and she could not be allowed to 
 go there. So there was nothing for her to do but to 
 return to her home. 
 
 "We spoke privately to Lord Crabstairs on this sub- 
 ject, and he agreed with us. 
 
 " Of course that 's the place for her," he said ; "and 
 I would rather think of her there than anywhere else, 
 but there is one thing about it that worries me. I 
 don't want her to go there if that butcher intends to 
 live in the neighborhood. Not that I have anything 
 to say against the butcher. He is an honest man and 
 tossed up fair every time, and if at the last tossing two 
 tails had come up instead of two heads, perhaps he 
 might have had her. But that 's neither here nor 
 there. Heads turned up and there was an end to 
 him." 
 
180 THE MEMRY CHANTEB. 
 
 Neither of us answered this remark. Doris looked 
 as i£ she had something to say, bnt she did not say it. 
 
 "I will write to him," exclaimed Lord Crabstairs, 
 "and put the matter fair and square before him. 
 Then he will surely see it as I do." 
 
 "Anything like that," said Doris, somewhat severely, 
 " you must certainly attend to yourself." 
 
 Lord Crabstairs wrote to the butcher and put the 
 matter fair and square before him. On the next day 
 but one this answer came by telegraph : 
 
 " If her coming home depends on my going, I go." 
 
 " There is a man for you ! " exclaimed Doris, with 
 a slight flush on her face as she read this telegram. 
 
 I made no reply. The butcher was well enough in 
 his way, but he was iiot a man for me. 
 
 Dolor knew nothing of the letter or the telegram. 
 That evening she said to us : 
 
 " I have been thinking about going home. It will 
 be perfectly dreadful with my husband snatched 
 away to a living death, and every hope in life shat- 
 tered and shivered, but in some ways it may be better 
 than it used to be. I shall have more company. I 
 dare say the Merry Chanter will not sail for ever so 
 long, and I shall often see you two, and perhaps the 
 captains, to say nothing of Griscom Brothers and the 
 schoolmaster. The butcher, too, is a very pleasant 
 man, and probably he will always live in the neighbor- 
 hood." 
 
 At this Lord Crabstairs leaned his head upon his 
 hands and gave a groan. Dolor stepped quickly to 
 his side and put her arm about his neck. 
 
 " Poor fellow ! " she said. " I wish I better knew 
 
THE MERRY CSANTEB. 181 
 
 how to help you to bear your misery ! And to think," 
 she suddenly exclaimed, standing erect, with her eyes 
 sparkling with indignation, "the people who really 
 owed these horrible debts, as well as the people to 
 whom the debts were owed, have been dead so long 
 that they have even ceased to be corpses ! " 
 
 16 
 
XX 
 
 THE COLLECTOR OF ANTIQUES 
 
 ^ORIS and I agreed to stay in Mon- 
 treal until the very last minute, and 
 when the steamer should be entirely 
 out of sight we would return home, 
 taking Dolor with us. To Lord 
 Crabstairs we privately promised 
 that before starting we would telegraph to the 
 butcher. 
 
 Saturday was the steamer's sailing day, and on 
 Friday morning the attorney came to Lord Crab- 
 stairs's room, where Doris and I were paying an early 
 visit to the unfortunate couple. Lord Crabstairs had 
 declared he would never again speak a word to this 
 attorney, who had dogged him across the Atlantic. 
 But this time he broke through his rule. 
 
 " What do you mean," he cried, " by this imperti- 
 nence? Is it not enough to have one cur keeping 
 guard outside the door without another pushing him- 
 self into the room ? " 
 
 This harsh speech made not the least impression 
 upon the attorney, who quietly remarked : " Half an 
 hour ago I received a message by cable concerning 
 you which I did not in the least understand. But in 
 
THE MERRY CHANTER. 183 
 
 picking up tlie morning paper I find this dispatch 
 from London, which is a curious bit of news, and may- 
 interest you." And handing a newspaper to Lord 
 Crabstairs he stepped to one side. 
 
 Lord Crabstairs took the paper and read aloud the 
 following news item : 
 
 Considerable interest has lately been excited with regard to 
 the case of Lord Crabstairs, who recently succeeded, not to the 
 estate, — for there is none, — but to the title of this ancient 
 family. It is well known that his only inheritance was a vast 
 mass of debts, some of which began to accumulate in the 
 seventeenth century, and which were increased and multiplied 
 by a long line of ancestors, so that many years ago it became 
 impossible for any descendant of the house to pay them. In 
 consequence of this unfortunate state of affairs the new Lord 
 Crabstairs became liable to arrest at the moment of his coming 
 into the title, and to be sent to the debtors' jail, where so many 
 of his forefathers had passed their Uves. The pubUo has 
 already been made aware that this new nobleman evaded the 
 officers of the law and fled to America, where, in Montreal, he 
 was recently arrested as an absconding debtor. The publica- 
 tion of the facts in the London papers attracted the attention 
 of an American gentleman, Mr. Copley Westbridge, who has 
 been for some time in Europe expending a large portion of his 
 great fortune in collecting material with which to found an 
 antiquarian museum in New- York. Mr. Westbridge pays much 
 attention to antiquities of every kind, and the case of Lord 
 Crabstairs interested him greatly. He obtained permission to 
 examine the vast mass of claims, bonds, defeasances, judg- 
 ments, executions, warrants, mortgages, bills, writs of elegit 
 and of capias ad satisfaciendum, and legal papers of every 
 variety originating in the reigns, protectorates, and regencies 
 of two centuries ; and all so worded and drawn as to bear upon 
 the unfortunate man who happened to be Lord Crabstairs, no 
 matter in what period of time or part of the world. This mass 
 of ancient and curious documents appeared so valuable to Mr. 
 Westbridge that he bought the whole of it for his museum. 
 
184 THE MEBBT CBANTEB. 
 
 The descendants of the original creditors consented to accept 
 a fixed price for the collective debts, and Mr. Westbridge 
 signed a quitclaim, which entirely absolved Lord Crabstairs 
 and his descendants from any connection with the debts of 
 his forefathers. By this transaction this unique and highly 
 valuable collection of legal curiosities goes to the States, and a 
 British peer is made a freeman on his native soil. 
 
 As Lord Crabstairs read this piece of news his 
 voice became louder and louder, and I am sure the 
 eyes of all of us opened wider and wider, and that 
 our hearts beat faster and faster. Dropping the 
 paper, Lord Crabstairs stepped towards the attorney. 
 
 " What is the message you received ? " he shouted. 
 
 " It was very short," replied the attorney ; " merely 
 these words: 'No further claims against your pris- 
 oner; release him.' Therefore, my lord, you are no 
 longer under arrest. G-ood-morning." 
 
 With two shouts of wild ecstasy Lord and Lady 
 Crabstairs rushed into each other's arms, and Doris 
 and I quietly withdrew. 
 
 The gayest, happiest, and most madly hilarious 
 three people in the Dominion of Canada that day. 
 were Doris and Lord and Lady Crabstairs. I, too, 
 was wonderfully well pleased, but my pleasure did 
 not exhibit itself in extravagant manifestations such 
 as those of my companions. 
 
 " What are yon going to do ? " asked Doris of Lord 
 Crabstairs as we all sat at luncheon together. " Are 
 you going back to England ? Have you any sort of 
 an ancestral pile left to you ? " 
 
 " I really do not know," replied his lordship. " I 
 have never gone very deeply into the beastly business. 
 
THE MEBBT CHANTER. 185 
 
 Whether there was an entail or no entail, there is 
 nothing left, anyway. But if anything were left, I 
 should have nothing to do with a stick or a stone 
 that belonged to my ancestors, for fear that the 
 American antiquarian had overlooked a paper or two, 
 and that some sort of antiquated debt in geometrical 
 progression still stuck to the property. I own a neat 
 little place in Bucks, and if everything has n't been 
 scattered to the four winds, there is a cow there, and 
 a lot of high-bred poultry, two dogs, and a cat, and 
 some of the prettiest flower-beds you ever saw in your 
 life. Lord and Lady Crabstairs will live there, and if 
 the other lords of the realm think that my house is 
 too humble an abode for a British peer they can 
 smother their mortification until I make money 
 enough to build a better one. I intend that the next 
 house of the Crabstairs shall date from me." 
 
 It was decided that the best thing for us all to do 
 was to return together to the Tripp house. We wrote 
 at once to announce the good news of our coming, 
 and we were met at the railroad station by a little 
 crowd of friends. Lizeth Tripp was there, but not 
 AlwUda, who would not leave the house unprotected 
 even on an occasion like this. The four captains 
 were there, and Griscom Brothers, and the school- 
 master, and very prominent among the others the 
 butcher, wearing a freshly washed and starched gown, 
 and a shining high silk hat. Having heard that 
 Dolor's husband was coming back with her, he did not 
 think it necessary to leave the neighborhood. Behind 
 this little group of friends stood the entire population 
 of the village. 
 
XXI 
 
 THE MUBBT CHANTEB -L-&A.Y^^ SHANKASHANK BAT 
 
 ORD and Lady Crabstairs remained 
 with us at Dolor's old home for a 
 week or more, and then started on 
 a short western tour. When this 
 continuation of their bridal trip was 
 completed they would sail for Eng- 
 land to take possession of their small estate in Buck- 
 inghamshire, where, as the humblest and happi- 
 est of aU lords and ladies, they expected to build up a 
 little paradise. 
 
 Every one of us was sorry to have them go, and 
 each of us gave them some little memento: the 
 butcher's present was a beautiful new cleaver of the 
 best steel. 
 
 " This sort of thing," he said, " comes very handy 
 in the kitchen." 
 
 And then speaking to me in an under voice he re- 
 marked : 
 
 " They say that sharp-edged tools cut love, but there 
 are cases when this does n't matter." 
 
 The four captains brought queer things which they 
 had picked up in distant lands, and Griscom Brothers 
 put a little oyster pie in a tin can and told them they 
 
 188 
 
THE MERST GHANTEB. 189 
 
 must think of him when they ate it in their own 
 house. 
 
 " I do not need anything," said Dolor, " to make 
 me remember the ghost who used to leave pies at my 
 door. " 
 
 " I have n't anything that will do for a memento," 
 said Alwilda ; " but I will paint your portraits from 
 memory and send them to you." 
 
 " May the ship sink that carries them ! " muttered 
 the butcher. 
 
 The day after the departure of Lord and Lady 
 Crabstairs, Doris and I walked down to the shore to 
 look at our ship. 
 
 " Do you know," said Doris to me, " that I am very 
 much afraid the Merry Chanter will never sail again, 
 I don't believe the highest kind of tide will lift her 
 now. She must have become a permanent portion of 
 the earth's surface." 
 
 I had long been waiting for an opportunity to 
 assert myself, and to make plain to Doris the value of 
 my opinions and my decisions. I considered such action 
 as due to my personal dignity, and had only postponed 
 it because no proper occasion had appeared to offer 
 itself. Now an occasion offered. 
 
 " There is no need of surmises on the subject," I 
 said. " I have positively determined that that ship is 
 not fit for navigating purposes, and that we must give 
 up all idea of sailing in her to any place whatever." 
 
 "I am glad you think so," said Doris, "because I 
 was afraid I might have some trouble in convincing 
 you that now we ought not to think of such a thing 
 as taking voyages in our ship. But what shall we 
 
190 THE MEBlir CHANTEB. 
 
 do with her?" she contimied. " But here comes the 
 butcher. Let us ask him." 
 
 The butcher, who had been rowing from the ship, 
 now ran his boat upon the beach. When Doris had 
 asked his advice upon the important subject under 
 consideration, he stood for some moments holding 
 his chin in his hand. 
 
 " I '11 make you an offer," he said. " I like living 
 on board the schooner. It suits me first-rate. She 's 
 got a splendid foundation, and will stand storms like 
 a lighthouse. If you say so, I '11 buy her of jow." 
 
 My wife and I retired a little for consideration. 
 
 " There cannot be the slightest doubt about it," said 
 DoTis. " We should sell him the ship, for it is of no 
 earthly use to us." ' 
 
 " Very well," said I ; " let us sell it to him." 
 
 The butcher bought the Merry Chanter, and with 
 the purchase-money in our pockets Doris and I pre- 
 pared to leave Shankashank Bay for a little inland 
 town, where we would set up a home entirely uncon- 
 nected with maritime pursuits. 
 
 On the morning of the day we were to leave we 
 went on board the Merry Chanter for a final visit. 
 The schoolmaster received us at the beach, and 
 rowed us to the ship. As we stepped on deck the 
 butcher, in whitest gown and blackest hat, received 
 us with a sorrowful courtesy. Griscom Brothers was 
 on board with the four old captains, who had come 
 over purposely to bid us farewell. We were all there 
 except the lively Lord Crabstairs and the pretty Dolor. 
 The butcher thought it proper to allude to this fact. 
 
THE MEBUT CHANTER. 191 
 
 " There is a gap among us, my friends/' he said, 
 " which we caanot fail to see. There are, however, 
 other gaps, which are not visible," and he turned his 
 face towards the sea. 
 
 Doris walked over the ship and bade good-bye to 
 everything. Her own old hen, followed by a brood of 
 now weU-grown chickens, came clucking towards her, 
 doubtless remembering former dainty repasts. The 
 other poultry crowded about her, hoping to be fed, and 
 the sandpiper ran along the rail by her side, his little 
 eyes sparkling with the expectation of a crumb. 
 
 She walked to the bow, and looked over at the 
 wooden figure-head. 
 
 " Grood-bye, dear Merry Chanter," she said. " When- 
 ever the winds are high, and I know there is a storm 
 on the coast, I shall think of you bravely breasting 
 the waves that rush in from the sea, and shouting 
 your bold sea songs out into the storm." 
 
 The butcher insisted upon rowing us to the shore. 
 As we bade him farewell he cordially invited us to 
 pay him a visit whenever we felt like breathing a little 
 sea air. 
 
 " When you are fixed and settled," he said, " I want 
 to send you — a — not exactly a present, but some- 
 thing to remind you of this part of the world." 
 
 Three months after this there came to our new 
 home an enormous box, which gave rise to more cu- 
 riosity in Doris and myself than we had ever felt in 
 regard to any package in any shape or size. When, 
 after an infinite deal of pains, the cover had been 
 forced off and some wrappings removed, there we saw 
 
192 
 
 THE MERBY CHANTER. 
 
 the Merry Chanter, unbolted from the bow of our 
 ship, and sent by the butcher to us. 
 
 When Doris saw it she burst into tears. 
 
 " He shall be our household god," she said. " As 
 long as we live he shall stand in our home." 
 
 He stands there now. 
 

 n^£ 
 
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