questions, and where he had become proficient at knots and splices and learned the knack of the marlin spike.
The fog continued that night and on into the next day which was the sixth of June, and colder than any January day in Dorset. After a basin of porridge Phebe lay down in her bunk, shivering. The matted straw pallet beneath her was damp as a dishcloth and seemed to have vanquished even the lice which were less troublesome. She lay wrapped in her cloak and with their two bed rugs piled on top. She shut her eyes tight, trying to escape for a while into sleep, when she heard the thumps of running feet on the deck and men’s voices raised in a resounding cheer. “Land Ho! Huzzah! Huzzah!”
She jumped from the berth and went out on deck.
The fog had suddenly lifted beneath a pale watery sun, and far off to the north rose a black line of cliff. Her heart swelled with wild relief. “Oh, thank God it’s Naumkeag!” she cried crowding with the other excited passengers to the starboard rail.
“No, sweetheart”—she turned to see Mark laughing at her—“you push us too fast. It’s Cape Sable, and many days yet ahead of us. But it is the New World at last!” He bent down and kissed her exuberantly, unnoticed for once by Mrs. Bagby and Master Wenn, who were united in the general elation.
They were indeed off the Grand Banks, the famous fishing banks to which European boats had been sailing for centuries. And the sea being most providentially quiet, they lay to while the sailors and most of the male passengers commenced to fish. They were abundantly rewarded; in less than two hours they had taken near fifty giant codfish. The women retreated to the poop deck, as the main deck became a mass of silvery flopping bodies. Phebe watched Mark, and ignorant as she was of the art, saw that he seemed more apt than the other landsmen. His movements in casting out the hand-line were quicker, he seemed to know by instinct the instant for the sharp jerk, he caught more fish than they did, and he caught the biggest of all—a yard long and near to that around the middle.
She thought of the Lady Arbella’s remark, “I cannot see you as a fishwife,” and smiled. Far across the water to the southwest the
Arbella
lay ahead of them, also hove-to, and doubtless also fishing. Later when they had glutted themselves with the sweet fresh fish, so delicious a change in their fare, she thought of Arbella again, and said to her—“You do not despise the occupation so now, do you, milady?”
The fish were good omen, not only for the bodies which they strengthened, but for the voyage. The winds at last grew fair and the weather warm. Off to starboard high land and mountains streamed by. All might spend the day on deck in the sunshine, and pleasant sweet air drifted to them from the land like the smell of a garden.
The strain relaxed from Mr. Hurlston, the ship’s master, and he, who had been grimly aloof during those endless weeks at sea, grew affable and pointed out to them the landmarks they passed. Mount Desert, Agamenticus, The Isle of Shoals. Off Cape Ann a stiff southwest gale delayed them but now, so near to land and having weathered so many worse gales, the passengers scarcely minded.
On June 13, the Lord’s Day, the
Jewell
slid gingerly through the passage between Baker’s Isle and Little Isle, and at two o’clock the whole ship’s company again let forth a mighty cheer, for there to the north of them rocking at anchor rested the
Arbella,
seeming as placid and at home as she had seemed so many weeks ago in Southampton Harbor.
“And THAT
is
Naumkeag—” cried Phebe staring with all her eyes at the wooded shore behind the
Arbella.
“Nay, Phebe,” said Mark laughing as he had laughed a week earlier when she miscalled Cape Sable. He took her by the shoulders and swung her around toward the southwest. “Down there is Naumkeag. Here is Cape Ann shore, we are still a league away. You must have patience.”
“I can’t
The fog continued that night and on into the next day which was the sixth of June, and colder than any January day in Dorset. After a basin of porridge Phebe lay down in her bunk, shivering. The matted straw pallet beneath her was damp as a dishcloth and seemed to have vanquished even the lice which were less troublesome. She lay wrapped in her cloak and with their two bed rugs piled on top. She shut her eyes tight, trying to escape for a while into sleep, when she heard the thumps of running feet on the deck and men’s voices raised in a resounding cheer. “Land Ho! Huzzah! Huzzah!”
She jumped from the berth and went out on deck.
The fog had suddenly lifted beneath a pale watery sun, and far off to the north rose a black line of cliff. Her heart swelled with wild relief. “Oh, thank God it’s Naumkeag!” she cried crowding with the other excited passengers to the starboard rail.
“No, sweetheart”—she turned to see Mark laughing at her—“you push us too fast. It’s Cape Sable, and many days yet ahead of us. But it is the New World at last!” He bent down and kissed her exuberantly, unnoticed for once by Mrs. Bagby and Master Wenn, who were united in the general elation.
They were indeed off the Grand Banks, the famous fishing banks to which European boats had been sailing for centuries. And the sea being most providentially quiet, they lay to while the sailors and most of the male passengers commenced to fish. They were abundantly rewarded; in less than two hours they had taken near fifty giant codfish. The women retreated to the poop deck, as the main deck became a mass of silvery flopping bodies. Phebe watched Mark, and ignorant as she was of the art, saw that he seemed more apt than the other landsmen. His movements in casting out the hand-line were quicker, he seemed to know by instinct the instant for the sharp jerk, he caught more fish than they did, and he caught the biggest of all—a yard long and near to that around the middle.
She thought of the Lady Arbella’s remark, “I cannot see you as a fishwife,” and smiled. Far across the water to the southwest the
Arbella
lay ahead of them, also hove-to, and doubtless also fishing. Later when they had glutted themselves with the sweet fresh fish, so delicious a change in their fare, she thought of Arbella again, and said to her—“You do not despise the occupation so now, do you, milady?”
The fish were good omen, not only for the bodies which they strengthened, but for the voyage. The winds at last grew fair and the weather warm. Off to starboard high land and mountains streamed by. All might spend the day on deck in the sunshine, and pleasant sweet air drifted to them from the land like the smell of a garden.
The strain relaxed from Mr. Hurlston, the ship’s master, and he, who had been grimly aloof during those endless weeks at sea, grew affable and pointed out to them the landmarks they passed. Mount Desert, Agamenticus, The Isle of Shoals. Off Cape Ann a stiff southwest gale delayed them but now, so near to land and having weathered so many worse gales, the passengers scarcely minded.
On June 13, the Lord’s Day, the
Jewell
slid gingerly through the passage between Baker’s Isle and Little Isle, and at two o’clock the whole ship’s company again let forth a mighty cheer, for there to the north of them rocking at anchor rested the
Arbella,
seeming as placid and at home as she had seemed so many weeks ago in Southampton Harbor.
“And THAT
is
Naumkeag—” cried Phebe staring with all her eyes at the wooded shore behind the
Arbella.
“Nay, Phebe,” said Mark laughing as he had laughed a week earlier when she miscalled Cape Sable. He took her by the shoulders and swung her around toward the southwest. “Down there is Naumkeag. Here is Cape Ann shore, we are still a league away. You must have patience.”
“I can’t
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