Keziah Coffin

J >> Joseph C. Lincoln >> Keziah Coffin


Captain Zebedee, having shipped with the insurgents, worked for them
from sunrise to sunset and after. Zeb was something of a politician and
knew whom to "get at." He sought his fellows on the parish committee and
labored with them. Mrs. Mayo and the doctor's wife championed the cause
at sewing circle. They were lively, those sewing meetings, and the fur
flew. Didama Rogers and Lavinia Pepper were everywhere and ready to
agree with whichever side seemed likely to win. Lavinia was so deeply
interested that she forgot to catechise Abishai further about his
untimely reference to Peters's grove. And Kyan, puzzled but thankful,
kept silence.

It was by no means a one-sided struggle. Captain Elkanah, spurred on by
the furious Annabel, marshaled his forces and proclaimed that Ellery,
having disgraced the Regular Society, should no longer occupy its
pulpit.

"If he does," thundered Elkanah, "I shall never cross the threshold of
that church. And I've worshiped there for fifty years. Hum--ha! I should
like to know whose money has gone more liberal for that meeting house
than mine! But not another cent--no, sir! not one--if that licentious
young scamp continues to blaspheme there."

He hinted concerning a good-sized contribution toward a parish house,
something the society needed. If Ellery was discharged, the contribution
would probably be made, not otherwise. And this was a point worth
considering.

Daniels also wrote to his influential friends of the National Regular
Society. But Captain Zebedee had forestalled him there and both letters
were laid on the table to await further developments. As for the
Come-Outers, they were wild with rage and Grace was formally read out of
their communion.

"I wonder," shrieked Ezekiel Bassett, in prayer meeting, "what the
sperrit of the good and great man who used to lead us from this 'ere
platform would say if he was here now? Hey? what would he say?"

Josiah Badger upreared his lanky person. "I dreamed about Cap'n
Eben t'other n-nin-nun-night," he stammered. "I see him just
as--p-pup-pup-plain as you hear me n-n-now. And he says to me, he says,
Josiah,' he says, 'I-I-I-I--'"

"Ki yi!" broke in Thoph Baker, from the shadow of the rear seat. Josiah
turned to berate Thoph, who, being in disgrace because of his defense of
Ellery, was reckless, and the communication from the dead leader of the
Come-Outers was lost in the squabble which followed.

Meantime Keziah, installed as head nurse at the shanty, was having her
troubles. The minister was getting better, slowly but surely getting
better. The danger of brain fever was at an end, but he was very weak
and must not be excited, so the doctor said. He knew nothing of the
struggle for and against him which was splitting Trumet in twain, and
care was taken that he should not know it. He was not allowed to talk,
and, for the most part, was quite contented to be silent, watching Grace
as she moved about the room. If he wondered why she was still with him,
he said nothing, and the thought of what his congregation might say did
not vex him in the least. She was there, he saw her every day, that was
enough.

He had expressed a wish to talk with his housekeeper. "I've got
something to tell you, Aunt Keziah," he said weakly. "Some news for you
and--and--"

"Cat's foot!" snapped Keziah briskly, "don't start in tellin' me news
now. I've got my hands full as 'tis. News'll keep and you won't, if you
talk another minute."

"But this is important."

"So are you, though you may not think so. If you don't believe it ask
Grace."

"Well," the minister sighed. "Well, perhaps I won't tell it now. I'd
rather wait until I feel stronger. You won t care, will you? It will be
hard to tell and I--"

"No, no! Care? No. If it's bad news I don't want to hear it, and if it's
good I can wait, I cal'late. You turn over and take a nap."

She could manage him; it was with Grace that she had her struggle. John
was safe now; he would be himself again before very long, and the girl
had begun to think of his future and his reputation. She knew that
gossip must be busy in the village, and, much as she wished to remain by
his side, she decided that she should not do so. And then Keziah began
to fulfill her agreement with Dr. Parker.

First, and bluntly, she told the girl that her leaving now was useless.
The secret was out; it had been made public. Everyone knew she was
in love with John and he with her. Their engagement was considered an
established certainty. Grace was greatly agitated and very indignant.

"Who dared say so?" she demanded. "Who dared say we were engaged? It's
not true. It's a wicked lie and--Who is responsible, Aunt Keziah?"

"Well, I suppose likely I am, much as anybody, deary."

"You? You, Aunt Keziah?"

"Yup; me. You are in love with him; at any rate, you said so. And you're
here with him, ain't you? If you two ain't engaged you ought to be."

"Aunt Keziah, how can you speak so? Don't you realize--"

"Look here. Don't you want to marry him?"

"WANT to? Oh, please--How can you? I--"

"S-s-sh! There! there! I am a bull-headed old thing, for sure. But I'm
like the dog that chased the rat across the shelf where they kept the
best china, my intentions are good. Don't cry, deary. Let's get to the
bottom of this thing, as the man said when he tumbled into the well.
When I first knew that you and John were in love with each other, I felt
dreadful. I knew your uncle and I knew Trumet. If you had married then,
or let people know that you thought of it, 'twould have been the end,
and ruin for John and you. But things are diff'rent now, a good deal
diff'rent. John is worshiped pretty nigh, since his pluck with that
smallpox man. He could go into church and dance a jig in the pulpit and
nobody--or precious few, at least--would find fault. And you've stood
by him. If it wa'n't for you he wouldn't be here to-day, and people know
that. Dr. Parker and Captain Zebedee and Gaius Winslow and dozens more
are fighting for him and for you. And the doctor says they are going to
win. Do you want to spoil it all?"

"Aunt Keziah, that night before uncle died I was upstairs in my room and
I heard uncle and Captain Elkanah Daniels talking."

"Elkanah? Was he there at your house?"

"Yes. Somehow or other--I don't know how--he had learned about--about
John and me. And he was furious. Aunt Keziah, I heard him say that
unless I broke off with John he would drive him from the ministry and
from Trumet and disgrace him forever. He said that if I really cared for
him I would not ruin his life. That brought me to myself. I realized how
wicked I had been and what I was doing. That was why I--I--"

"There! there! Tut! tut! tut! hum! Now I see. But, Gracie, you ain't
goin' to ruin his life. No, nor Elkanah ain't goin' to do it, either.
He can't, no matter how hard he tries. I've lived to see the day when
there's a bigger man in the Reg'lar church than Elkanah Daniels, and I
thank the good Lord for it."

"I never should have come here. I know it. But he needed me. Aunt
Keziah, he was sick and dying almost, and I couldn't leave him. I came,
and now he will be ruined and disgraced."

"He won't, I tell you; he won't. Listen to me. I ain't talkin' for my
health. Listen!"

She argued and pleaded and coaxed, and, at last, when she began to think
she had prevailed, Grace brought forward another objection. She had
given her word to her uncle. How could she break that promise made to a
dying man? She would feel like a traitor.

"Traitor to who?" demanded the housekeeper, losing patience. "Not
to poor Nat, for he's gone. And don't you suppose that he and Eben
understand things better now, where they are? Do you suppose that Nat
wouldn't want you to be happy? I know he would, for I knew him."

It was still unsettled when the long talk was over, but Grace agreed not
to leave the minister at present. She would stay where she was until he
was himself again, at least. Keziah was satisfied with the preliminary
skirmish. She felt confident of winning the victory, and in the prospect
of happiness for others, she was almost happy herself. Yet each time the
mail was brought to the shanty she dreaded to look at it, and the sight
of a stranger made her shake with fear. Ansel Coffin had threatened to
come to Trumet. If he came, she had made up her mind what to do.

The parish committee was to meet. Captain Elkanah had announced his
intention of moving that John Ellery be expelled from the Regular
church. There was to be no compromise, no asking for a resignation; he
must be discharged, thrown out in disgrace. The county papers were full
of the squabble, but they merely reported the news and did not take
sides. The fight was too even for that.

Captain Zeb chuckled. "It's all right, Keziah," he said. "We know what's
what and who's who. The Rev. Mr. Ellery can preach here for the next
hundred year, if he lives that long and wants to, and he can marry
whoever he darn pleases, besides. Elkanah's licked and he knows it. He
ain't got enough backers to man a lobster dory. Let him holler; noise
don't scare grown folks."

One afternoon a few days before the date set for the meeting Elkanah
and two or three of his henchmen were on the piazza of the Daniels home,
discussing the situation. They were blue and downcast. Annabel was in
the sitting room, shedding tears of humiliation and jealous rage on the
haircloth sofa.

"Well," observed her father, "there's one thing we can do. If the
vote in committee goes against us, I shall insist on the calling of a
congregational meeting. Hum--ha! Yes, I shall insist on that."

"Won't be no good, cap'n," sniffed Beriah Salters dolefully. "The
biggest part of the congregation's for Ellery, and you know it. They're
as sot on him as if he was the angel Gabriel. If you'd only told what
you knew afore this smallpox business, we'd have been able to give him
and his Come-Outer woman what b'longs to 'em. But not now."

Captain Daniels shifted uneasily in his chair.

"Hum--ha!" he barked, to cover confusion. "Hum--ha! It seemed to me
more--er--charitable to give the misguided young man another chance, and
I did it. But--What's that?"

Some one was talking excitedly on the sidewalk beyond the lilac bushes
at the border of the Daniels property. Voices answered. Didama Rogers
darted out of her yard and past the house in the direction of the
sounds. Salters rose and walked down to the gate.

"Hey!" he shouted. "Halloo! Ahoy there! You, Em'lous, what is it?"

Emulous Sparrow, the fish peddler, was seated in his cart, which was
surrounded by men and women, neighbors of the Danielses. There was a
perfect storm of questionings and ejaculations. Salters opened the gate
and joined the group. A moment later he came running back, up the walk
toward the piazza.

"Cap'n," he shouted. "Cap'n Elkanah, here's news! What do you think? A
telegram's just come from Nat Hammond. He's safe and sound in New York,
and he'll be here day after to-morrow."

They could not believe it and rushed out to hear more. Emulous, glowing
with importance, affirmed that it was so. He had seen the telegram at
the store. It was for Grace Van Horne and they were just going to send a
boy over to the shanty with it.

"No details nor nothin'," he declared. "Just said 'Am all right.
Arrived to-day. Will be in Trumet Thursday.' And 'twas signed 'Nathaniel
Hammond.' There!"

"Well, by thunder!" exclaimed Salters. "If that don't beat all. I
wonder what's happened to him? Two year gone and give up for dead, and
now--What do you cal'late it means?"

Captain Elkanah seized him by the arm and led him out of the group.
The old man's face was alight with savage joy and his voice shook with
exultation.

"I'll tell you one thing it means," he whispered. "It means the end of
Ellery, so far as his marrying her is concerned. She gave her word to
Hammond and she'll keep it. She's no liar, whatever else she is. He may
be minister of the Regular church, though I'LL never set under him, but
he'll never marry her, now."


CHAPTER XIX

IN WHICH A RECEPTION IS CALLED OFF


Far out on the Pacific coast there are two small islands, perhaps
a hundred miles distant from one another. The first of these is
uninhabited. On the other is a little colony of English-speaking people,
half-breed descendants of native women and the survivors of a crew from
a British vessel cast away there in the latter part of the eighteenth
century.

On the first of these islands, the smaller one, the Sea Mist had been
wrecked. Driven out of her course by a typhoon, she staggered through
day after day and night after night of terrific wind and storm until,
at last, there was promise of fair weather. Captain Nat, nearly worn out
from anxiety, care, and the loss of sleep, had gone to his stateroom
and the first mate was in charge. It was three o'clock, the wind still
blowing and the darkness pitchy, when the forward lookout shrieked a
warning, "Breakers under the lee!" Almost the next instant the ship was
on a coral reef, full of water, and the seas breaking over her from stem
to stern.

Morning came and showed a little patch of land, with palm trees and
tropical vegetation waving in the gusts and green in the sunshine.
Captain Nat ordered the boats to be lowered. Much as he hated the
thought, he saw that the Sea Mist had made her last voyage and must
be abandoned. He went to the cabin, collected papers and charts and
prepared to leave. The ship's money, over ten thousand dollars in gold
belonging to the owner and to be used in trade and speculation among the
East Indies, he took with him. Then the difficult and dangerous passage
through the opening in the reef was begun.

Only the captain's boat reached the shore. The mate's was caught by a
huge breaker, dashed against the reef and sunk. Captain Nat, his second
mate and five of his men were all that was left of the Sea Mist's
company. And on that island they remained for nearly two weeks.
Provisions they had brought ashore with them. Water they found by
digging. Nat hid the gold at night, burying it on the beach below
high-water mark.

Then, having made sure of his location by consulting the chart, he
determined to attempt a voyage to the second island, where he knew
the English colony to be. Provisions were getting short, and to remain
longer where they were was to risk starvation and all its horrors. So,
in the longboat, which was provided with a sail, they started. Charts
and papers and the gold the skipper took with them. None of the crew
knew of the existence of the money; it was a secret which the captain
kept to himself.

A hundred miles they sailed in the longboat and, at last, the second
island was sighted. They landed and found, to their consternation and
surprise, that it, too, was uninhabited. The former residents had grown
tired of their isolation and, a trading vessel having touched there, had
seized the opportunity to depart for Tahiti. Their houses were empty,
their cattle, sheep, goats, and fowl roamed wild in the woods, and the
fruit was rotting on the trees. In its way the little island was
an Eyeless Eden, flowing with milk and honey; but to Captain Nat, a
conscientious skipper with responsibilities to his owners, it was a
prison from which he determined to escape. Then, as if to make escape
impossible, a sudden gale came up and the longboat was smashed by the
surf.

"I guess that settles it," ruefully observed the second mate, "another
Cape Codder, from Hyannis. Cal'late we'll stay here for a spell now,
hey, Cap'n."

"For a spell, yes," replied Nat. "We'll stay here until we get another
craft to set sail in, and no longer."

"Another craft? ANOTHER one? Where in time you goin' to get her?"

"Build her," said Captain Nat cheerfully. Then, pointing to the row of
empty houses and the little deserted church, he added, "There's timber
and nails--yes, and cloth, such as 'tis. If I can't build a boat out of
them I'll agree to eat the whole settlement."

He did not have to eat it, for the boat was built. It took them six
months to build her, and she was a curious-looking vessel when done,
but, as the skipper said, "She may not be a clipper, but she'll sail
anywhere, if you give her time enough." He had been the guiding
spirit of the whole enterprise, planning it, laying the keel, burning
buildings, to obtain nails and iron, hewing trees for the largest beams,
showing them how to spin ropes from cocoa-nut fiber, improvising sails
from the longboat's canvas pieced out with blankets and odd bits of
cloth from the abandoned houses. Even a strip of carpet from the church
floor went into the making of those sails.

At last she was done, but Nat was not satisfied.

"I never commanded a ship where I couldn't h'ist Yankee colors," he
said, "and, by the everlastin'! I won't now. We've got to have a flag."

So, from an old pair of blue overalls, a white cotton shirt, and the
red hangings of the church pulpit, he made a flag and hoisted it to the
truck of his queer command. They provisioned her, gave her a liberal
supply of fresh water, and, one morning, she passed through the opening
of the lagoon out to the deep blue of the Pacific. And, hidden in her
captain's stateroom under the head of his bunk, was the ten thousand
dollars in gold. For Nat had sworn to himself, by "the everlasting"
and other oaths, to deliver that money to his New York owners safe and,
necessary expenses deducted of course, untouched.

For seven weeks the crazy nondescript slopped across the ocean. Fair
winds helped her and, at last, she entered the harbor of Nukahiva, over
twelve hundred miles away. And there--"Hammond's luck," the sailors
called it--was a United States man-of-war lying at anchor, the first
American vessel to touch at that little French settlement for five
years. The boat they built was abandoned and the survivors of the Sea
Mist were taken on board the man-of-war and carried to Tahiti.

From Tahiti Captain Nat took passage on a French bark for Honolulu.
Here, after a month's wait, he found opportunity to leave for New York
on an American ship, the Stars and Stripes. And finally, after being
away from home for two years, he walked into the office of his New York
owners, deposited their gold on a table, and cheerfully observed, "Well,
here I am."

That was the yarn which Trumet was to hear later on. It filled columns
of the city papers at the time, and those interested may read it, in all
its details, in a book written by an eminent author. The tale of a Cape
Cod sea captain, plucky and resourceful and adequate, as Yankee sea
captains were expected to be, and were, in those days.

But Trumet did not hear the yarn immediately. All that it heard and all
that it knew was contained in Captain Nat's brief telegram. "Arrived
to-day. Will be home Thursday." That was all, but it was enough, for
in that dispatch was explosive sufficient to blow to atoms the doctor's
plans and Keziah's, the great scheme which was to bring happiness to
John Ellery and Grace Van Horne.

Dr. Parker heard it, while on his way to Mrs. Prince's, and, neglecting
that old lady for the once, he turned his horse and drove as fast as
possible to the shanty on the beach. Fast as he drove, Captain Zebedee
Mayo got there ahead of him. Captain Zeb was hitching his white and
ancient steed to the post as the doctor hove in sight.

"By mighty!" the captain exclaimed, with a sigh of relief, "I'm glad
enough you've come, doctor. I hated to go in there alone. You've heard,
of course."

"Yes, I've heard."

"Say, ain't it wonderful! I'm tickled all up one side and sorry all down
t'other. Nat's a true-blue feller, and I'm glad enough that he ain't
shark bait; but what about the minister and her? She's promised to Nat,
you know, and--"

"I know. Don't I know! I've been going over the affair and trying to see
a way out ever since I heard of the telegram. Tut! tut! I'm like you,
mighty glad Hammond is safe, but it would have spared complications if
he had stayed wherever he's been for a few months longer. We would have
married those two in there by that time."

"Sartin we would. But he didn't stay. Are you goin' to tell Mr. Ellery?"

"Certainly not. And I hope he hasn't been told. He's getting well fast
now, but he mustn't be worried, or back he'll go again. We must see Mrs.
Coffin. Keziah is our main hold. That woman has got more sense than all
the rest of us put together."

But it was Grace, not Keziah, who opened the shanty door in answer to
their knock. She was pale and greeted them calmly, but it was evident
that her calmness was the result of sheer will power.

"Won't you come in, doctor?" she asked. "Good afternoon, Captain Mayo."

Dr. Parker entered the building, but Captain Zeb remained outside,
stammering that he cal'lated he'd better stay where he could keep an eye
on his horse. This was such a transparent excuse that it would have been
funny at any other time. No one smiled now, however.

"Is--is Mrs. Coffin--er--Keziah aboard?" the captain asked.

"No, she isn't. She went to the parsonage a few hours ago. Mr. Ellis
brought the mail and there was a letter in it for her. She said it was
important and that she must go home to see about some things. She'll be
back pretty soon, I suppose."

The doctor whispered her name then and she went inside, closing the door
after her. Captain Zebedee sat down on the step to ponder over the new
and apparently insurmountable difficulty which had arisen. As he said
afterwards, "The more I tried to get an observation, the thicker it got.
Blamed if I could see anything but fog, but I could hear--I could hear
Elkanah and his gang gigglin', ahead, astern and off both bows."

Parker found his patient sleeping soundly and had not disturbed him.
Returning to the living room he spoke to Grace.

"Humph!" he grunted, watching her from under his brows, "everything
seems to be all right in there. He hasn't been excited or anything like
that?"

"No."

"That's good. He mustn't be. You understand that? He mustn't be told
anything that will upset him. He's getting well fast and I want it to
continue."

"Yes, I understand."

"Hum! Er--have you heard--Has anyone been here?"

"Yes. I have heard. The telegram came and I answered it."

"You did? Well, it's a miracle and we're all thankful, of course. Did
you--er--er--"

"Doctor, I must go home. I mustn't stay here any longer."

"Why not?"

"You know why not. I must be at home when he comes. You must get some
one to take my place. Aunt Keziah will stay, of course, and perhaps Mrs.
Higgins would come, or Hannah Poundberry. She--"

"Not if I know it. I'd as soon have a hay-cutter running in here as
Hannah's tongue. I could stop a hay-cutter when it got too noisy. Well,
if you must go, you must, I suppose. But stay through tomorrow, at
any rate. Nat won't get here until Thursday, and I may be able to find
another nurse by that time. And what I shall say to him," motioning
toward the other room, "I don't know."

"Must you say anything? Just say that I have been called away for a few
days on--on some business. Don't tell him. Don't tell him the truth,
doctor, now. He is too weak and I am afraid--"

She stopped and turned away. The doctor watched her pityingly.

"Cheer up," he said. "At any rate, this is only for a little while. When
the captain knows, if he's the man I take him for, he'll--"

She whirled like a flash. "You're not going to tell him?" she cried.
"No, no! You mustn't. You must promise me you won't. Promise."

"Somebody'll tell him. Telling things is Trumet's specialty."

"Then you must stop it. No one must tell him--no one except me. I shall
tell him, of course. He must hear it from me and not from anyone else.
He would think I was disloyal and ungrateful--and I am! I have been! But
I was--I COULDN'T help it. You know, doctor, you know--"

"Yes, yes, I know. Well, I'll promise, but it will all come out right,
you see. You mustn't think I--we--have been interfering in your affairs,
Grace. But we've all come to think a whole lot of that parson of ours
and what he wanted we wanted him to have, that's all."

"I know. Thank you very much for all your kindness, and for your
promise."

He would have liked to say much more, but he could not, under the
circumstances. He stammered a good-by and, with a question concerning
Mrs. Coffin's whereabouts, went out to join Captain Zeb.

"Well?" queried the latter anxiously. "How is it? What's up? What's the
next tack?"

"We'll go to the parsonage," was the gloomy answer. "If anybody can see
a glimmer in this cussed muddle Keziah Coffin can."

Keziah was on her knees in her room, beside a trunk, the same trunk she
had been packing the day of the minister's arrival in Trumet. She was
working frantically, sorting garments from a pile, rejecting some and
keeping others. She heard voices on the walk below and went down to
admit the callers.

"What's the matter, Keziah?" asked Dr. Parker sharply, after a look at
her face. "You look as if you'd been through the war. Humph! I suppose
you've heard the news?"

Keziah brushed back the hair from her forehead. "Yes," she answered
slowly. "I've heard it."