Rockhaven

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  ROCKHAVEN

  BY CHARLES CLARK MUNN

  AUTHOR OF "POCKET ISLAND" AND "UNCLE TERRY"

  _ILLUSTRATED BY_ _FRANK T. MERRILL_

  BOSTON LEE AND SHEPARD MCMII

  Published March, 1902.

  Copyright, 1902, by Lee and Shepard.

  _All Rights Reserved._

  Rockhaven.

  Norwood Press J. S. Cushing & Co.--Berwick & Smith Norwood Mass. U.S.A.

  To All WHO DESPISE HYPOCRISY AND DECEPTION WHO ADMIRE MANLY COURAGE AND WOMANLY DEVOTION WHOSE HEARTS YET VIBRATE TO THE CHORDS OF ROMANCE AND WHO RESPECT SIMPLE FAITH IN AND GRATITUDE TO GOD This Book is Respectfully Dedicated BY THE AUTHOR

  THE OLD TIDE-MILL.]

  CONTENTS

  I. ON ROCKHAVEN

  II. WINN HARDY

  III. THE ROCKHAVEN GRANITE COMPANY

  IV. WHERE THE SEA-GULLS COME

  V. JESS HUTTON

  VI. THE BUD OF A ROMANCE

  VII. SUNDAY ON ROCKHAVEN

  VIII. THE HAND OF FATE

  IX. A FRIENDLY HAND

  X. MONA HUTTON

  XI. THE DEVIL'S OVEN

  XII. THE PARTING OF THE WAYS

  XIII. WILD ROSES

  XIV. J. MALCOLM WESTON

  XV. A MATTER OF BUSINESS

  XVI. THE GROWTH OF A BUBBLE

  XVII. IN THE PATH OF MOONLIGHT

  XVIII. IN A FOG

  XIX. A PHILOSOPHER

  XX. A CLOUD OVER ROCKHAVEN

  XXI. THE MOOD OF THE BELLS

  XXII. TWO RASCALS

  XXIII. THE STARTING OF A "CORNER"

  XXIV. THE PROGRESS OF A "CORNER"

  XXV. A SUMMER DAY

  XXVI. A CLIMAX

  XXVII. SEVERING THE TIES

  XXVIII. ON 'CHANGE

  XXIX. THE BUBBLE RISES

  XXX. THE BUBBLE BURSTS

  XXXI. TWO DOGS AND A BONE

  XXXII. THE AFTERMATH OF A SWINDLE

  XXXIII. A TOUCH OF HEROISM

  XXXIV. A WOMAN'S WILES

  XXXV. THE WHEEL OF FORTUNE

  XXXVI. GOING, GOING, GONE!

  XXXVII. A SOCIAL CYNIC

  XXXVIII. THE END OF AN IDYL

  XXXIX. A GRAY-HAIRED ROMANCE

  XL. A GOOD SEND-OFF

  XLI. EIN WUNDERBARES FRAULEIN

  XLII. THE ROAD TO THE TEMPLE

  XLIII. THE CYNIC'S SHADOW

  XLIV. ONLY A MOOD

  XLV. THE OLD HOME

  XLVI. A NEW STAR

  XLVII. LOVE ETERNAL

  XLVIII. CONCLUSION

  ILLUSTRATIONS

  THE OLD TIDE-MILL

  MONA

  JESS HUTTON, PHILOSOPHER

  THE DEVIL'S OVEN

  THE BUBBLE BURSTS

  ROCKHAVEN

  ROCKHAVEN

  CHAPTER I

  ON ROCKHAVEN

  "It ain't more'n onct in a lifetime," said Jess Hutton to the crowd offriends in his store, "that luck comes thick 'n' fat to any on us 'n' sofer that reason I sent over to the mainland fer suthin' o' a liquidnatur; 'n' now take hold, all hands, 'n' injie yerselves on Jess."

  With that he began setting forth upon the counter, in battle array,dozens upon dozens of bottles filled with dark brown liquid andinterspersed with boxes of cigars. For Jess Hutton, the oracle,principal storekeeper, first selectman, school committeeman, prize storyteller, philosopher and friend to everybody on Rockhaven island, hadsold a few acres of granite ledge he set no value upon, for two thousanddollars, half cash down; and being a man of generous impulses, hadinvited the circle of friends most congenial, to "drop round ternight'n' I'll set 'em up."

  It is true that the cigars he passed out so freely were not imported,still they were the best he kept, and not the cheap brand most in demandon Rockhaven, and the bottles contained the vintage of hops and maltinstead of "extra dry," but both were urged upon all in a way that leftrefusal impossible.

  And of that unique gathering of men, with sea-tanned faces, garbedmainly in shirt, trousers, and sailor caps, some wearing boots, someslippers, some barefoot, nearly all addressed one another as "Cap" or"Cap'n," for to own a fishing sloop or jigger on Rockhaven meantdistinction.

  "I dunno how it all come about," said Jess, when the popping of corkshad ceased and the incense of cabbage leaves began to arise, "but I wassorter dozin' on the counter that day when this bloomin' freak, withwhite duck pants, 'n' cap, 'n' shirt, 'n' gray side whiskers, blew in,'n' the fust I know'd, I heerd him say, 'Come, wake up, Rip Van Winkle!I want ter buy yer quarry!'

  "Then I sot up 'n' rubbed my eyes 'n' looked at him, sure he must be oneo' them make-believe sailors off a yacht I'd seen run in the nightafore, 'n' had come ashore with skates on.

  "'Want ter buy what?' I sez. 'Want ter buy yer quarry,' he sez again. 'Iheerd ye owned the one t'other side o' the harbor, 'n' if ye want tersell it cheap, I'll buy it.' Then I looked at him harder'n ever; sure hehad a jag 'n' was makin' game o' me.

  "'Yes,' I sez, 'I'll sell ye the quarry, or the hull island, if ye ain'tsure ye own it already. Better go into the back o' the store 'n' laydown on a pile o' old sails ye'll find thar, 'n' sleep it off. Things'lllook more nat'ral to ye by that time.' With that he laffed fit tersplit. 'You're all right, old sport,' he sez, 'but I ain't drunk, 'n' ifye'll set the price low enough, I'll buy yer quarry and pay ye cashfer't.'

  "'Wal,' I sez, thinkin' I'd set the price high 'nough ter knock himgalley west, 'I'll take three thousand dollars fer't.'

  "'I'll give ye two,' he said, ''n' pay yer half down.' 'Hev ye got itwith ye?' I sed. 'I hev,' he said, 'aboord the boat, or I'll give ye acheck.' 'Checks don't go here,' I said, 'but if ye've got real money,'n' mean business, it's yourn at that figger.' Then he went off, 'n' Iwas so sure I'd never set eyes on him ag'in I went ter sleep. It didn'tseem five minutes till he blew in ag'in. 'How many acres o' that ledgedo ye own,' he said, 'an' how many goes with the quarry?' 'Wall,' Isaid, 'there's about a hundred, 'n' if that ain't nuff ter keep ye busyblastin' the rest o' yer nateral life, I'll throw in the hull o' NorseHill jist ter bind the bargain,' fer I didn't no more s'pose he meantbizniss than I s'posed I'd got wings. 'Wal,' he says, pullin' out a rollo' bills bigger'n my arm. 'Here's the kale seed, an' when ye'll show mewhat I'm buyin' 'n' a deed on't, it's yourn.'

  "Wal, I jist pinched myself, ter see if I was 'wake, an' jumpin' off thecounter, fished a deed out o' my safe 'n' took it 'long, an' showed himround the ledge, believin' all the time when he'd seen it, he'd tell meter go soak my head, er suthin' o' that sort. But he didn't, an' arter Igot hold o' the money 'n' counted it, wonderin' if it wasn't all bogus,'n' give him a receipt, 'n' he'd gone off, I went 'n' stuck a pin intomy leg, jist ter be sure I was awake, after all. That was a week ago,"continued Jess, lighting one of the cigars he had set forth, "but Ididn't say nuthin' 'bout it till I'd gone ashore with the money an' thebank folks hed said it was all right, 'n' now I think I've lost jist athousand dollars by not askin' four for't. Why, the loonytic acted asthough he owned a printin' press that made money, an' was goin' all thetime."

  "Wish I'd been ashore," observed Captain Moore, who was one of thegroup, "I'd a tackled him ter buy the _Nancy Jane_. She's been lyin'inside o' the harbor, half full o' bilge water, fer more'n a year, an'ain't wuth scuttlin'. Ye'd orter 'a thought on't, Jess, an' persuadedhim he could 'a used 'r to carry stun in."

  "An' if I'd a-knowed it," put in Cap'n Jet Doty, another of the group,"I'd a tried him on 'bout a hundred kit o' mackerel we've got that's atrifful rusty. He
cud a-used 'em somehow. Ye'd orter think o' yerneighbors, Jess, in such a case, an' let 'em in on't."

  "I dunno but ye're right," responded Jess; "but I wus caught nappin','n' I cac'late that if any o' ye hed been woke up by sech a lubber withgray whiskers, like stun'sls, an' dude cloes like these jackdaw yachterswear, an offerin' ye two thousand dollars fer what ye'd sell fer fifty,an' no takers, ye'd a-bin sot back, so ter speak. If I'd a hed time terthink an' knowed what an easy mark the cuss was, I'd a-laid ter sell himthe hull island 'n' divided it up all round."

  And be it said that if all the landowners of Rockhaven had obtained evenwhat they valued their holdings at, they would have sold cheerfully, forout of the eighty odd square miles of the island, not one quarter was ofsoil, and much of that so sandy that only bayberry bushes and wildroses grew on it, or else thickets of stunted spruce. The only means oflivelihood to most was the sea, and if nature had not endowed the islandwith a capacious land-locked harbor and a few acres of productive soilbeyond it, and shut in by wall-like shores, Rockhaven would have beenleft to the sea-gulls that infested its cliffs, or the fish-hawks thatfound its harbor good fishing ground.

  "What'd ye s'pose he's goin' ter do with it, now he's got it?" put inCap'n Doty, when Jess had finished his recital, and having in mind hisstock of rusty mackerel. "Will he come down here 'n' go ter quarryin'?"

  "Mebbe he wants it fer ballast fer a new boat," interposed young DaveMoore. "Or fer buildin' a house," put in Dave's brother, Sam. "Cheer up,uncle, we may sell him the _Nancy Jane_ yit. He'll hev ter hire or buysuthin' ter carry stun 'way from the island. He can't make a raft on't."

  "An' if he does," asserted Cap'n Moore, addressing Cap'n Doty, who satopposite him on a cracker barrel, "ye'd git a chance to work off themmackerel."

  "I dunno what he's goin' ter do with it," asserted Jess, when a pausecame, "nor care, so long's I git t'other thousand as is comin' whendeeds is passed. I ain't sure I'll git that, either," he addedcandidly, "but if I don't the quarry's still mine 'n' a cool thousand o'that freak's good money's gone out o' circulation anyhow, which is somecomfort."

  Then came a lull in conversation, and in place the popping of more corksand "Here's to yer good luck, Jess," as bottles were elevated andpointed downward.

  "Come, Jess," said Dave Moore, when this second libation had beenindulged in, and who was in a mood for hearing yarns, "tell 'em 'boutold Bill Atlas."

  Now this tale, antedating the day and generation of most of JessHutton's auditors, was nevertheless a favorite with him and one healways enjoyed telling.

  "Wal," he said, "if ye want ter hear 'bout old Bill, I'll tell ye,though some o' ye here hez heerd 'bout him afore, I reckon. It's been agood many years since Bill took to his wings, humsoever, 'n' so hishist'ry may be divartin'. Bill used ter live all 'lone in a little shackhe'd built out o' drift, half way 'tween here and Northaven. That is, heslept thar nights when he was ashore, fer he was away fishin' most o'the time. He were the worst soaker on the island, an' from the time hesot foot ashore 'n' got his pay until every cent was spent, he didn'tdraw a sober breath. Thar wan't no use arguin' with Bill, or doin'anything to reform him. Jist the moment he got a dollar, jist thatmoment he started in ter git drunk 'n' allus succeeded. Even ParsonBush, who hed jist come here then 'n' anxious ter do good, failed onBill. No 'mount o' argufyin' 'bout the worm that never dies or the fateo' sinners hed a mite o' influence on Bill.

  "'Parson,' he'd say, 'thar ain't no use a-talkin' ter me. Licker wasmade ter be drunk, else why was it made at all, 'n' if the Lord Almightydidn't cac'late fer me ter drink it, why did he make me hanker for't? Yejist preach ter them as is like ter mind it an'll foller it. I ain't,an' it'll do no good.' An' then Bill'd roll away an' fill up. He wa'n'ta quarrelsome cuss, jist a good-natured soaker who meant ter git drunk,'n' done it, an' never meant ter bother nobody when he was.

  "But some on us young folks in them days sot out to hev fun with Billonce upon a time, an' we did, an' more'n that, we joggled him so he quitdrinkin' fer most a year. He'd had one er two fits o' tremens afore thattime, 'n' had sorter got skeery 'bout seein' things, so our trick workedfust rate. One o' the smacks hed jist brought in a hogfish that day, an'it was the worst lookin' critter that ever growed in the sea. Itweighed 'bout fifty poun' 'n' was 'most all mouth 'n' teeth. Bill was upin the corner o' a fish house sleepin' off a jag when the critter wash'isted onto the dock, 'n' the moment we spied it we said we'd try it onBill. We told everybody ter keep quiet 'n' then we went at it. Fust welugged the hogfish over ter Bill's shack, which was out on the end o' alittle pint 'n' sorter shut in 'tween the rocks, 'n' then we got an oldbit o' sail and went ter work. We sot the critter up on stuns, right infront o' the shack, 'n' made a tail 'bout forty feet long out o' thesail, an' stuffed it nat'ral like, 'n' then rigged lines running overthe shanty to work the critter's mouth 'n' tail up 'n' down when thetime come. It was 'long in the arternoon when we sot about 'n' wecac'lated Bill 'd wake up sometime arter dark 'n' come to his shack injist the mood ter 'preciate the good thing that we hed waitin' fer him.Then to sorter liven up matters, we took a handful o' matches, an'dampenin' 'em, rubbed the ends round the eyes an' mouth o' the critter,'n' in spots 'long the tail, where we was to hist it a little. It wasclear dark afore we got the trap all sot 'n' baited, 'n' then five on ustook the lines and tried the joke. It worked pretty slick, 'n' ter seethat critter's mouth, more'n a foot long 'n' full o' teeth, 'n' eyeswith rings of phosphorus round 'em, a-workin' up an' down, to saynothin' 'bout the tail, would a-skeered a sober man into fits arterdark, let alone one who 'spected snakes. When Bill's welcome home wasall ready, we sot a watch on Bill, who was still asleep, 'n' the rest onus went home ter supper. Then we got together, 'bout two dozen on usthat knew Bill best, 'n' gittin' sheets ter wrap up in, to sorterstiffen the hogfish effect, all hands hid round his shanty an' insideon't. It was purty late 'fore Bill showed up, but he came 'long finally,kind o' wobblin' some and hummin':--

  "'I'm a gallant lass as ever you see, And the roving sailor winked at me.'

  "Bill was allus feelin' that way when half full 'n' now jist happy 'n'comfortable like. There was a new moon that sorter lit up the path, 'n'jist as he got to where it made a turn, 'bout ten feet from the shanty,I made a signal by squeakin' like a gull, an' the boys begun workin' thelines, 'n' 'bout two dozen white figgers rose up from behind the rocksor stepped out o' the cabin. I never knew which skeered Bill the worst,the awful critter snappin' at him thar in the path, or the ghosts, forBill gave one screech that could a' been heard five mile, 'n' ye neverseen a man run the way he did. He didn't stop ter keep in the patheither, but jist went right over the rocks anywhere. He tumbled two orthree times 'fore he got out o' sight, 'n' you'd a-thought he was madeo' rubber, the way he got up 'n' yelled, 'Help, help, O Lord,' all thetime. I'll 'low it was the fust time he'd ever called on the Lord ferhelp, but it wa'n't the last, fer he made straight fer the parson'shouse 'n' begun pummellin' on the door.

  "'O Lord, take me in,' he said when the parson opened it, 'I'm come ferat last 'n' the divil's arter me. Pray fer me, parson, an' for God'ssake, do it quick!' An' then he went down on his knees, 'n' sayin','Lordy, Lordy, I'll never drink 'nother drop's long's I live!' ParsonBush was a good deal took back, fer he didn't know the joke, 'n' 'lowedBill had the tremens. 'Better go back to yer shanty, ye sot,' he said,'an' when you git sober come here 'n' I'll talk with ye,' an' with thathe shet the door 'n' Bill jist laid down 'n' bellowed like a calf. 'N'he didn't go back to his shanty, either, that night, not by a jugful;he'd seen 'nough o' that spot ter last him quite a spell. 'N' when hedid thar warn't nuthin' out o' ordinary, fer we'd chucked the hogfishoff the rocks, 'n' 'twas more 'n a year 'fore Bill found out the trickwe played, 'n' in all that time he kept sober. He did find out arter aspell, fer a joke like that can't be kept allus, 'n' when Bill did, hetook ter drink agin, 'n' finally jumped off the dock one night in a fito' the jims 'n' that was the last o' him. It's hard to larn an old dognew tricks."

  For an hour the l
ittle crowd of Jess Hutton's friends lingered,wondering and speculating on what the outcome of this investment in agranite ledge would be. To most it seemed a piece of folly or the act ofa madman. These worthless rocks had stared them in the face so manyyears, had so interfered with house building, or the convenient placingof fish racks, or road making, that they had one and all come to hatetheir very sight. In their estimation they were a nuisance and a curse,and for any sane man to buy twenty acres of ledge to quarry andtransport five hundred miles, seemed worse than folly.

  Then, having given due expression to this common sentiment, andcongratulating Jess upon his good luck, they shook hands with him andwent their way. And when the sound of their footsteps upon the onenarrow plank walk of Rockhaven had ceased, and only the murmur of thenear-by ocean was heard, Jess, as was his wont when lonesome, drew hisold brown fiddle from its hiding place and sought consolation from itsstrings. And also, as usual, the melodies were the songs of BonnieScotland.