CHAPTER XIV.
“How happy are theyWho have clams every day!”
“How happy are theyWho have clams every day!”
“How happy are theyWho have clams every day!”
“How happy are they
Who have clams every day!”
One o’clock finds the girls, boys, nurses, dollies, and big Ranger escorting Mamma to the shore, where Jem, Ned, and Kit threw off their coats, which Artie saw meant work, and so immediately followed their example.
Now, fresh water must be brought, in pails, from the little spring which rippled from a rock near the water’s edge. A large iron bar had next to be run through a hole in one of the fence-posts, and upon it an iron pot was hung. To the small boys was giventhe privilege of picking up pieces of brush in the grove and piling them up under the kettle, all ready for Jem to kindle a grand fire. Then shoes and stockings had to be pulled off, and the four older boys, with shovels, rakes, and baskets, waded in the shallow water for the great work of digging clams. Artie thought it about the most prodigious sport he had ever dreamed of, and shouted loudly to all his brothers and sisters to look at every clam he was fortunate enough to bring to light, whilst Jack, always true to his belief that “paddling in the water was the best fun of anything,” sat on a rock, looking wistfully on and digging up the sand around him with his impatient little toes.
Then the baskets of clams were set down in the water, that the tide might wash through them and carry away some of the mud andsand which clings to them; and whilst this process was going on, Kit good humoredly brought a small part of the coveted Bay to the little ones. Oh, what a Kit! May runs to the house for the little wooden pails and shovels, and oh, how those little beavers work! What cannot be made out of sand and water I should like to know? Beautiful gardens appear, with rows of little trees, and walks paved with tiny shells and glittering pebbles. Old Lottie, who sprang to life from the family rag-bag, is condemned to be buried alive, whilst for Maude and Evangeline, dainty city dolls, fine thrones are piled up, from which they may look down on the dirty hands and aprons of their young mothers and uncles. Dr. Kit prescribes for Euphemia, who has fits of not being able to stand on her feet, continued “hot sand baths.”Then dollies are left in peace, whilst all turn their hands to manufacturing sand pies, and then wells must be dug and filled with water for future use.
Presently the children see Artie and Ned rushing to the house to harness Coco to the little cart to bring down black Sam’s loads of oysters and clams. Alice sets the example of cleanliness to her companions by going down to the water’s edge to wash her hands, and instantly the fashion takes, and Bristol Bay is turned into a huge water basin, and its sandy shores into a dressing-room.
Nan, Charlotte, and the Haven servants now came down from the house, in merry mood, bearing brown bread, a pail of butter packed in ice, chickens dressed for the gridiron, and a huge Indian pudding. Artie and Kit tumble over the Princesses Maude andEvangeline, making their thrones things of the past, in their haste to get over into the next field to dig the fresh, new potatoes. Gracie, under Sarah, the cook’s, direction, with Daisy for her assistant, prepares the chowder. First into the iron pot she places slices of pork, which she heats to a crisp brown; then go in layers of well-seasoned clams, shorn of their ugly shells by Jem’s jack-knife; layers of sliced potatoes, and onions and crackers. Then layers of clams again till the pot is quite filled. I assure you very delicious is the steamy odor which soon fills the air and quickens the appetite. Two wooden horses are saddled with boards and blanketed with snow-white table cloths, to bear the burden of the day’s feast. In the middle stands the grand Indian pudding, with a flag springing up from the centre to mark the day, andguarded on each side by great piles of brown-bread. Jem carefully brings the rich green watermelon from the spring where it has been cooling, and with deft hands and valuable jack-knife, cuts it up into most bewitching mitre forms. Sarah, the cook, ladles out, on huge platters, the smoking, savory chowder. Then Jem, with Mamma’s permission, gives the order to “Fall in!” and in much less time than it takes me to tell it, the little Madison Avenue Menagerie make the acquaintance of the Rhode Island shore dinner which has made the tiny State so famous.
Little Jack, with mouth full of brown-bread, says,—
“I always frought bakes was in ovens and boils was in pots,” which makes the Harwood children laugh as they explain it is not yet time for “the bake;” there is fishing to be done first.
When the rods were brought out, wasn’t Artie pleased to find his so admired! Jem, himself, had never seen one so fine—even Jem, who showed him how to cut clams and put them on the hook, as better bait than worms,—told him from just what spot on the wharf he must fling out his line, and watched that line as well as his own, telling him just how long to let the fish nibble and just when to draw in.
When, finally, the prize came to land, it proved to be a large-sized, silvery scup, and then the city boy was almost wild with joy. Oh, wouldn’t that be a story to tell his children’s children, how their grandfather, at the age of ten, caught a regular scup, and a “two-pounder at that!”
“For he looked at the scales and found it so,Just as his friend, Jem, had told him, oh!”
“For he looked at the scales and found it so,Just as his friend, Jem, had told him, oh!”
“For he looked at the scales and found it so,Just as his friend, Jem, had told him, oh!”
“For he looked at the scales and found it so,
Just as his friend, Jem, had told him, oh!”
How Artie longed to lay the squirming trophy at his Mamma’s feet, and claim a loving kiss as best reward!
But, look! this is no time for dreaming! Jem’s “bob” has disappeared entirely, and “Jem is having a tricky one to deal with,” Ned whispers,—
Ha! ha! Master Fish, you have got your match at the other end of the line. Our Jem is an “old hand,” he knows all your wiles, and even now is pretending not to have the least idea you are in his power. Now he loosens; now tightens gently his line; slowly winds up; and now, with dexterous jerk, swings upon the sand a fine tautog, Newporters’ dainty breakfast. Yes; there is the poor fellow, with his fine, bright eyes, white skin and black scales, leaping in the air!
The sport went on. Tautog, scup, andsometimes a striped bass, lie quivering on the sand.
Bear asks Aunt Gertrude,—
“Why do they give the fish such a queer name astautog?”
“It is from two Indian words—taut, which meansrocks, andog, fish. This tautog hides among the rocks, when the tide comes in, to get away from the larger fish, who would eat him up. He lives mostly on sea plants and insects.”
“But don’t you think it seems cruel to kill the poor things?”
“Scarcely that, dear, for God has made them for our use. Don’t you remember our Saviour’s feeding the hungry multitude with loaves and fishes in the wilderness? The fish, in their turn, devour insects, and as they peep their heads above the waters to catchthem, the instinct of the birds, which seems God’s voice in them, teaches them to watch for their appearance, dart down upon and devour them. But, see, Artie is beckoning for us, and here comes Nan to carry you up to the bake.”
For the sake of far-away children, who have never visited Narragansett shores, let me explain, that upon stones, which have been thoroughly heated, large quantities of sea-weed are thrown, and upon that, clams, oysters, and sometimes lobsters, chickens, sweet-potatoes, and corn are put.
After Jem had placed his clams and oysters on the sea-weed, the boys covered them up with more weed, and over the smoking mass placed a large piece of sail-cloth, from whose seams and cracks, ere long, came an odor which was well worth a journey fromNew York to inhale, for certainly there is nothing just like it. It will not be strange if ere long enterprising Rhode Island druggists send to the far-away cities bottles marked “Clam-bake Perfume,” which shall rival that of “Heliotrope” or “New Mown Hay.”
The table has been neatly prepared, Sarah’s broiled chickens are smoking there, and now every boy,
“Be he great or be he small,”
“Be he great or be he small,”
“Be he great or be he small,”
“Be he great or be he small,”
has the pleasure of raking over the smoking seaweed, to bring to light the steaming clams and oysters, and filling the great earthen pudding-dishes with them, ready for the eating.
How the Haven children looked to see the Harwood boys, yes, and girls too, eating clams as if “fingers had, indeed, been made before forks!” Aunt Gertrude read their look ofastonishment, and explained to them that picking out clams with the fingers at a clam-bake was quite allowable, and that she herself always did it; and so the children quickly followed her example. It really was great fun for the boys with appetites sharpened by hard work, to run races eating clams,—striving to see who could soonest get a pile of shells he could not look over. This sounds to city ears, unused to clam-bake tastes, very, very strange, almost very improper; but we can only plead—
“’Tis a way we have in Rhode Island, boys!To drive dull care away.”
“’Tis a way we have in Rhode Island, boys!To drive dull care away.”
“’Tis a way we have in Rhode Island, boys!To drive dull care away.”
“’Tis a way we have in Rhode Island, boys!
To drive dull care away.”
The children’s attention was presently diverted from their Bake by the sight of a large bird hovering over them, holding something in her beak.
Their eyes followed the bird as she madegreat circles in the air,—descending lower and lower, till just as she was within shot, something dropped heavily upon the table, which proved to be a poor bleeding fish. Mrs. Harwood said—
“This bird is a Fish Hawk, and has its nest in one of our old pear trees, which you will presently see. It hovers over the water to watch for fish, coming to the surface to get their dinner of insects, and then pounces down upon them. You see, to-day she has caught a poor little bass, and, as she was carrying it through the air to her nest, the little fish’s tender flesh has been torn away, and he has dropped from his enemy’s beak upon the table before us. The Fish Hawk nest was built here before my husband’s birth, and is more than fifty years old. It is about as large in size as a half barrel, but none of ushave ever seen the inside, for, generally, it has a very bad odor of stale fish. The Hawk has a great time every spring, house-cleaning, and putting down their fresh carpets of twigs and pebbles.”
“Why don’t you climb up, Jem, and see the inside of the nest for yourself?” asked Artie.
“For three good reasons, sir: First and foremost, Papa would not allow it; second, thetreewould not, for it is quite dead, and unsafe for climbing; and, lastly, because I am so fortunate as to have a nose.”
“Daisy,” said Kit, “do look over the fence into the next field, and see those solemn cows watching us over the bars. They always come and stare at us when we have our Bakes, and generally, when we are fishing or digging clams on the shore, they come and stand inthe water, and watch us by the hour, with their big, serious eyes.”
Rosie asked Aunt Gertrude if she might give the good cows some clam-bake?
“Yes, dear,” she replied, “I think they would enjoy the melon-rind and bread-crusts, very much.”
Rosie filled a basket with the remnants of the feast, and emptied it between the bars right at the feet of a “baby-cow,” as she called it, when, to her terror, just as the little calf put her head down to taste the nice morsels, two of the old cows came running toward her in a most furious manner, lowering their horns as if they were going to toss her; at which the baby-cow galloped off as fast as possible, and the selfish old animals ate up the whole feast, and went off leisurely, chewing their cud as if they hadbeen doing the most well-behaved and proper thing in the world.
Jem told Rosie to “never mind, it was their way;” and Aunt Gertrude said—
“Cows are very sensitive; they will not stand any disrespect from the young ones. In a herd of cattle the eldest always takes the lead, and none of the young dare leave the pasture till the older ones have set the example.
“It is quite funny to see with how much contempt a new calfie is treated, when she makes her first appearance in the barn-yard. She is pushed aside by her elders, and not allowed to go near the feeding-trough till they have finished their meal, sometimes losing her supper altogether; but when another calf comes in, calfie the first turns tyrant, and treats her in the same manner. When I haveseen young people push past older persons, in going out from a room, or choose for themselves the most comfortable seats, I have said to myself, ‘Even the little calves have been better trained.’ Indeed, I assure you, there is a deal of etiquette observed in the barn-yard parlor.”
“Do cows ever hurt children, Aunt Gertie,” asked little Bear.
“Sometimes, dear, but very rarely. A very short while ago a friend of mine, the widow of a clergyman, went with her only child, a lovely, bright boy of eight, to live in a quiet little mountain village. Here Spencer, for that was his name, soon won the love of all the villagers, by his gentle manners and helpful ways. His mother playfully wrote me that it seemed as if the child looked upon the village as ‘his father’s parish, and the villagersas parishioners left to his charge by that father.’ Day after day the little fellow might be seen wending his way through the village streets with his little pail of soup, or basket of dainties, for some sick person. Other days, the cottagers would stand at their doors watching the ‘minister’s boy,’ as he was always called, dragging out, in his little wagon, a neighbor’s sick baby, whilst the mother rested her weary back; and from this child of eight, those simple folk learned lessons of charity never to be forgotten.
“One summer morning, his mother heard him, at daylight, passing her bedroom door. She called, him to come to her, and he came in with his little box of tools, saying, ‘I did not mean to waken you, mother dear, but last night, when I passed poor old widow Sampson’s, I saw a board loose on her steps,and I kept waking up in the night and worrying for fear the poor old lady might fall and badly hurt herself before I could get there to fix it.’
“Just as he was about to leave the room, he said, ‘Oh, mother, in my hurry, I have forgotten my morning prayer; may I kneel here by your bed, and say it?’ His mother heard him whispering the Lord’s Prayer, till he came to the words, ‘Thy will be done.’ There he stopped, then slowly repeated the petition, and finishing his prayer, stooped over and kissed his mother many times, and then ran off, humming a favorite song.
“An hour after, distressed villagers brought back little Spencer’s lifeless body. A farmer had called to ask him if he would stand and hold open a gate, whilst his cattle were driven through, and as he stood there, a cross animal lowered its horns suddenly, and tossed the little fellow in the air, killing him instantly.
Little Spencer Gathering Brush for Widow Sampson’s Fire. Page 233.
Little Spencer Gathering Brush for Widow Sampson’s Fire. Page 233.
Little Spencer Gathering Brush for Widow Sampson’s Fire. Page 233.
“The whole village mourned the child, and poor Widow Sampson came to tell the mother how she had been the little fellow’s care during all the last winter. Every snow-storm brought Spencer to her door with his little barrow, filled with bits of brush he had gathered, and when ill, he came every day to minister to her wants.
“I have been told that the farmer immediately killed the treacherous cow, and when he sent its flesh to the poor people, they all sent back, saying, ‘they thanked him kindly, but that meat they could not eat.’
“I am afraid my story has saddened you, but I see thePsycheis in sight, and Papa is making signals. I know he wanted to give us a little sail when he returned, so we must hurry.”