The Widow’s Cruise
by Frank Stockton
The Widow Ducket lived in a small village about ten miles from the New Jersey sea-coast. In this village she was born, here she had married and buried her husband, and here she expected somebody to bury her; but she was in no hurry for this, for she had scarcely reached middle age. She was a tall woman with no apparent fat in her composition, and full of activity, both muscular and mental.
She rose at six o’clock in the morning, cooked breakfast, set the table, washed the dishes when the meal was over, milked, churned, swept, washed, ironed, worked in her little garden, attended to the flowers in the front yard, and in the afternoon knitted and quilted and sewed, and after tea she either went to see her neighbors or had them come to see her. When it was really dark she lighted the lamp in her parlor and read for an hour, and if it happened to be one of Miss Mary Wilkins’s books that she read she expressed doubts as to the realism of the characters therein described.
These doubts she expressed to Dorcas Networthy, who was a small, plump woman, with a solemn face, who had lived with the widow for many years and who had become her devoted disciple. Whatever the widow did, that also did Dorcas–not so well, for her heart told her she could never expect to do that, but with a yearning anxiety to do everything as well as she could. She rose at five minutes past six, and in a subsidiary way she helped to get the breakfast, to eat it, to wash up the dishes, to work in the garden, to quilt, to sew, to visit and receive, and no one could have tried harder than she did to keep awake when the widow read aloud in the evening.
All these things happened every day in the summertime, but in the winter the widow and Dorcas cleared the snow from their little front path instead of attending to the flowers, and in the evening they lighted a fire as well as a lamp in the parlor.
Sometimes, however, something different happened, but this was not often, only a few times in the year. One of the different things occurred when Mrs. Ducket and Dorcas were sitting on their little front porch one summer afternoon, one on the little bench on one side of the door, and the other on the little bench on the other side of the door, each waiting until she should hear the clock strike five, to prepare tea. But it was not yet a quarter to five when a one-horse wagon containing four men came slowly down the street. Dorcas first saw the wagon, and she instantly stopped knitting.
“Mercy on me!” she exclaimed. “Whoever those people are, they are strangers here, and they don’t know where to stop, for they first go to one side of the street and then to the other.”
The widow looked around sharply. “Humph!” said she. “Those men are sailormen. You might see that in a twinklin’ of an eye. Sailormen always drive that way, because that is the way they sail ships. They first tack in one direction and then in another.”
“Mr. Ducket didn’t like the sea?” remarked Dorcas, for about the three hundredth time.
“No, he didn’t,” answered the widow, for about the two hundred and fiftieth time, for there had been occasions when she thought Dorcas put this question inopportunely. “He hated it, and he was drowned in it through trustin’ a sailorman, which I never did nor shall. Do you really believe those men are comin’ here?”
“Upon my word I do!” said Dorcas, and her opinion was correct.
The wagon drew up in front of Mrs. Ducket’s little white house, and the two women sat rigidly, their hands in their laps, staring at the man who drove.
This was an elderly personage with whitish hair, and under his chin a thin whitish beard, which waved in the gentle breeze and gave Dorcas the idea that his head was filled with hair which was leaking out from below.
“Is this the Widow Ducket’s?” inquired this elderly man, in a strong, penetrating voice.
“That’s my name,” said the widow, and laying her knitting on the bench beside her, she went to the gate. Dorcas also laid her knitting on the bench beside her and went to the gate.
“I was told,” said the elderly man, “at a house we touched at about a quarter of a mile back, that the Widow Ducket’s was the only house in this village where there was any chance of me and my mates getting a meal. We are four sailors, and we are making from the bay over to Cuppertown, and that’s eight miles ahead yet, and we are all pretty sharp set for something to eat.”
“This is the place,” said the widow, “and I do give meals if there is enough in the house and everything comes handy.”
“Does everything come handy to-day?” said he.
“It does,” said she, “and you can hitch your horse and come in; but I haven’t got anything for him.”
“Oh, that’s all right,” said the man, “we brought along stores for him, so we’ll just make fast and then come in.”
The two women hurried into the house in a state of bustling preparation, for the furnishing of this meal meant one dollar in cash.
The four mariners, all elderly men, descended from the wagon, each one scrambling with alacrity over a different wheel.
A box of broken ship-biscuit was brought out and put on the ground in front of the horse, who immediately set himself to eating with great satisfaction.
Tea was a little late that day, because there were six persons to provide for instead of two, but it was a good meal, and after the four seamen had washed their hands and faces at the pump in the back yard and had wiped them on two towels furnished by Dorcas, they all came in and sat down. Mrs. Ducket seated herself at the head of the table with the dignity proper to the mistress of the house, and Dorcas seated herself at the other end with the dignity proper to the disciple of the mistress. No service was necessary, for everything that was to be eaten or drunk was on the table.
When each of the elderly mariners had had as much bread and butter, quickly baked soda-biscuit, dried beef, cold ham, cold tongue, and preserved fruit of every variety known, as his storage capacity would permit, the mariner in command, Captain Bird, pushed back his chair, whereupon the other mariners pushed back their chairs.
“Madam,” said Captain Bird, “we have all made a good meal, which didn’t need to be no better nor more of it, and we’re satisfied; but that horse out there has not had time to rest himself enough to go the eight miles that lies ahead of us, so, if it’s all the same to you and this good lady, we’d like to sit on that front porch awhile and smoke our pipes. I was a-looking at that porch when I came in, and I bethought to myself what a rare good place it was to smoke a pipe in.”
“There’s pipes been smoked there,” said the widow, rising, “and it can be done again. Inside the house I don’t allow tobacco, but on the porch neither of us minds.”
So the four captains betook themselves to the porch, two of them seating themselves on the little bench on one side of the door, and two of them on the little bench on the other side of the door, and lighted their pipes.
“Shall we clear off the table and wash up the dishes,” said Dorcas, “or wait until they are gone?”
“We will wait until they are gone,” said the widow, “for now that they are here we might as well have a bit of a chat with them. When a sailorman lights his pipe he is generally willin’ to talk, but when he is eatin’ you can’t get a word out of him.”
Without thinking it necessary to ask permission, for the house belonged to her, the Widow Ducket brought a chair and put it in the hall close to the open front door, and Dorcas brought another chair and seated herself by the side of the widow.
“Do all you sailormen belong down there at the bay?” asked Mrs. Ducket; thus the conversation began, and in a few minutes it had reached a point at which Captain Bird thought it proper to say that a great many strange things happen to seamen sailing on the sea which lands-people never dream of.
“Such as anything in particular?” asked the widow, at which remark Dorcas clasped her hands in expectancy.
At this question each of the mariners took his pipe from his mouth and gazed upon the floor in thought.
“There’s a good many strange things happened to me and my mates at sea. Would you and that other lady like to hear any of them?” asked Captain Bird.
“We would like to hear them if they are true,” said the widow.
“There’s nothing happened to me and my mates that isn’t true,” said Captain Bird, “and here is something that once happened to me: I was on a whaling v’yage when a big sperm- whale, just as mad as a fiery bull, came at us, head on, and struck the ship at the stern with such tremendous force that his head crashed right through her timbers and he went nearly half his length into her hull. The hold was mostly filled with empty barrels, for we was just beginning our v’yage, and when he had made kindling-wood of these there was room enough for him. We all expected that it wouldn’t take five minutes for the vessel to fill and go to the bottom, and we made ready to take to the boats; but it turned out we didn’t need to take to no boats, for as fast as the water rushed into the hold of the ship, that whale drank it and squirted it up through the two blow-holes in the top of his head, and as there was an open hatchway just over his head, the water all went into the sea again, and that whale kept working day and night pumping the water out until we beached the vessel on the island of Trinidad–the whale helping us wonderful on our way over by the powerful working of his tail, which, being outside in the water, acted like a propeller. I don’t believe any thing stranger than that ever happened to a whaling ship.”
“No,” said the widow, “I don’t believe anything ever did.”
Captain Bird now looked at Captain Sanderson, and the latter took his pipe out of his mouth and said that in all his sailing around the world he had never known anything queerer than what happened to a big steamship he chanced to be on, which ran into an island in a fog. Everybody on board thought the ship was wrecked, but it had twin screws, and was going at such a tremendous speed that it turned the island entirely upside down and sailed over it, and he had heard tell that even now people sailing over the spot could look down into the water and see the roots of the trees and the cellars of the houses.
Captain Sanderson now put his pipe back into his mouth, and Captain Burress took out his pipe.
“I was once in an obelisk-ship,” said he, “that used to trade regular between Egypt and New York, carrying obelisks. We had a big obelisk on board. The way they ship obelisks is to make a hole in the stern of the ship, and run the obelisk in, p’inted end foremost; and this obelisk filled up nearly the whole of that ship from stern to bow. We was about ten days out, and sailing afore a northeast gale with the engines at full speed, when suddenly we spied breakers ahead, and our Captain saw we was about to run on a bank. Now if we hadn’t had an obelisk on board we might have sailed over that bank, but the captain knew that with an obelisk on board we drew too much water for this, and that we’d be wrecked in about fifty-five seconds if something wasn’t done quick. So he had to do something quick, and this is what he did: He ordered all steam on, and drove slam-bang on that bank. Just as he expected, we stopped so suddint that that big obelisk bounced for’ard, its p’inted end foremost, and went clean through the bow and shot out into the sea. The minute it did that the vessel was so lightened that it rose in the water and we easily steamed over the bank. There was one man knocked overboard by the shock when we struck, but as soon as we missed him we went back after him and we got him all right. You see, when that obelisk went overboard, its butt-end, which was heaviest, went down first, and when it touched the bottom it just stood there, and as it was such a big obelisk there was about five and a half feet of it stuck out of the water. The man who was knocked overboard he just swum for that obelisk and he climbed up the hiryglyphics. It was a mighty fine obelisk, and the Egyptians had cut their hiryglyphics good and deep, so that the man could get hand and foot-hold; and when we got to him and took him off, he was sitting high and dry on the p’inted end of that obelisk. It was a great pity about the obelisk, for it was a good obelisk, but as I never heard the company tried to raise it, I expect it is standing there yet.”
Captain Burress now put his pipe back into his mouth and looked at Captain Jenkinson, who removed his pipe and said:
“The queerest thing that ever happened to me was about a shark. We was off the Banks, and the time of year was July, and the ice was coming down, and we got in among a lot of it. Not far away, off our weather bow, there was a little iceberg which had such a queerness about it that the captain and three men went in a boat to look at it. The ice was mighty clear ice, and you could see almost through it, and right inside of it, not more than three feet above the waterline, and about two feet, or maybe twenty inches, inside the ice, was a whopping big shark, about fourteen feet long,–a regular man-eater,–frozen in there hard and fast. `Bless my soul,’ said the captain, `this is a wonderful curiosity, and I’m going to git him out.’ Just then one of the men said he saw that shark wink, but the captain wouldn’t believe him, for he said that shark was frozen stiff and hard and couldn’t wink. You see, the captain had his own idees about things, and he knew that whales was warm-blooded and would freeze if they was shut up in ice, but he forgot that sharks was not whales and that they’re cold-blooded just like toads. And there is toads that has been shut up in rocks for thousands of years, and they stayed alive, no matter how cold the place was, because they was cold-blooded, and when the rocks was split, out hopped the frog. But, as I said before, the captain forgot sharks was cold-blooded, and he determined to git that one out.
“Now you both know, being housekeepers, that if you take a needle and drive it into a hunk of ice you can split it. The captain had a sail-needle with him, and so he drove it into the iceberg right alongside of the shark and split it. Now the minute he did it he knew that the man was right when he said he saw the shark wink, for it flopped out of that iceberg quicker nor a flash of lightning.”
“What a happy fish he must have been!” ejaculated Dorcas, forgetful of precedent, so great was her emotion.
“Yes,” said Captain Jenkinson, “it was a happy fish enough, but it wasn’t a happy captain. You see, that shark hadn’t had anything to eat, perhaps for a thousand years, until the captain came along with his sail-needle.”
“Surely you sailormen do see strange things,” now said the widow, “and the strangest thing about them is that they are true.”
“Yes, indeed,” said Dorcas, “that is the most wonderful thing.”
“You wouldn’t suppose,” said the Widow Ducket, glancing from one bench of mariners to the other, “that I have a sea-story to tell, but I have, and if you like I will tell it to you.”
Captain Bird looked up a little surprised.
“We would like to hear it–indeed, we would, madam,” said he.
“Ay, ay!” said Captain Burress, and the two other mariners nodded.
“It was a good while ago,” she said, “when I was living on the shore near the head of the bay, that my husband was away and I was left alone in the house. One mornin’ my sister-in-law, who lived on the other side of the bay, sent me word by a boy on a horse that she hadn’t any oil in the house to fill the lamp that she always put in the window to light her husband home, who was a fisherman, and if I would send her some by the boy she would pay me back as soon as they bought oil. The boy said he would stop on his way home and take the oil to her, but he never did stop, or perhaps he never went back, and about five o’clock I began to get dreadfully worried, for I knew if that lamp wasn’t in my sister-in-law’s window by dark she might be a widow before midnight. So I said to myself, `I’ve got to get that oil to her, no matter what happens or how it’s done.’ Of course I couldn’t tell what might happen, but there was only one way it could be done, and that was for me to get into the boat that was tied to the post down by the water, and take it to her, for it was too far for me to walk around by the head of the bay. Now, the trouble was, I didn’t know no more about a boat and the managin’ of it than any one of you sailormen knows about clear starchin’. But there wasn’t no use of thinkin’ what I knew and what I didn’t know, for I had to take it to her, and there was no way of doin’ it except in that boat. So I filled a gallon can, for I thought I might as well take enough while I was about it, and I went down to the water and I unhitched that boat and I put the oil-can into her, and then I got in, and off I started, and when I was about a quarter of a mile from the shore–“
“Madam,” interrupted Captain Bird, “did you row or–or was there a sail to the boat?”
The widow looked at the questioner for a moment. “No,” said she, “I didn’t row. I forgot to bring the oars from the house; but it didn’t matter, for I didn’t know how to use them, and if there had been a sail I couldn’t have put it up, for I didn’t know how to use it, either. I used the rudder to make the boat go. The rudder was the only thing I knew anything about. I’d held a rudder when I was a little girl, and I knew how to work it. So I just took hold of the handle of the rudder and turned it round and round, and that made the boat go ahead, you know, and–“
“Madam!” exclaimed Captain Bird, and the other elderly mariners took their pipes from their mouths.
“Yes, that is the way I did it,” continued the widow, briskly. “Big steamships are made to go by a propeller turning round and round at their back ends, and I made the rudder work in the same way, and I got along very well, too, until suddenly, when I was about a quarter of a mile from the shore, a most terrible and awful storm arose. There must have been a typhoon or a cyclone out at sea, for the waves came up the bay bigger than houses, and when they got to the head of the bay they turned around and tried to get out to sea again. So in this way they continually met, and made the most awful and roarin’ pilin’ up of waves that ever was known.
“My little boat was pitched about as if it had been a feather in a breeze, and when the front part of it was cleavin’ itself down into the water the hind part was stickin’ up until the rudder whizzed around like a patent churn with no milk in it. The thunder began to roar and the lightnin’ flashed, and three seagulls, so nearly frightened to death that they began to turn up the whites of their eyes, flew down and sat on one of the seats of the boat, forgettin’ in that awful moment that man was their nat’ral enemy. I had a couple of biscuits in my pocket, because I had thought I might want a bite in crossing, and I crumbled up one of these and fed the poor creatures. Then I began to wonder what I was goin’ to do, for things were gettin’ awfuller and awfuller every instant, and the little boat was a- heavin’ and a-pitchin’ and a-rollin’ and h’istin’ itself up, first on one end and then on the other, to such an extent that if I hadn’t kept tight hold of the rudder-handle I’d slipped off the seat I was sittin’ on.
“All of a sudden I remembered that oil in the can; but just as I was puttin’ my fingers on the cork my conscience smote me. `Am I goin’ to use this oil,’ I said to myself, `and let my sister-in-law’s husband be wrecked for want of it?’ And then I thought that he wouldn’t want it all that night, and perhaps they would buy oil the next day, and so I poured out about a tumblerful of it on the water, and I can just tell you sailormen that you never saw anything act as prompt as that did. In three seconds, or perhaps five, the water all around me, for the distance of a small front yard, was just as flat as a table and as smooth as glass, and so invitin’ in appearance that the three gulls jumped out of the boat and began to swim about on it, primin’ their feathers and lookin’ at themselves in the transparent depths, though I must say that one of them made an awful face as he dipped his bill into the water and tasted kerosene.
“Now I had time to sit quiet in the midst of the placid space I had made for myself, and rest from workin’ of the rudder. Truly it was a wonderful and marvellous thing to look at. The waves was roarin’ and leapin’ up all around me higher than the roof of this house, and sometimes their tops would reach over so that they nearly met and shut out all view of the stormy sky, which seemed as if it was bein’ torn to pieces by blazin’ lightnin’, while the thunder pealed so tremendous that it almost drowned the roar of the waves. Not only above and all around me was every thing terrific and fearful, but even under me it was the same, for there was a big crack in the bottom of the boat as wide as my hand, and through this I could see down into the water beneath, and there was–“
“Madam!” ejaculated Captain Bird, the hand which had been holding his pipe a few inches from his mouth now dropping to his knee; and at this motion the hands which held the pipes of the three other mariners dropped to their knees.
“Of course it sounds strange,” continued the widow, “but I know that people can see down into clear water, and the water under me was clear, and the crack was wide enough for me to see through, and down under me was sharks and swordfishes and other horrible water creatures, which I had never seen before, all driven into the bay, I haven’t a doubt, by the violence of the storm out at sea. The thought of my bein’ upset and fallin’ in among those monsters made my very blood run cold, and involuntary-like I began to turn the handle of the rudder, and in a moment I shot into a wall of ragin’ sea-water that was towerin’ around me. For a second I was fairly blinded and stunned, but I had the cork out of that oil-can in no time, and very soon–you’d scarcely believe it if I told you how soon–I had another placid mill-pond surroundin’ of me. I sat there a-pantin’ and fannin’ with my straw hat, for you’d better believe I was flustered, and then I began to think how long it would take me to make a line of mill-ponds clean across the head of the bay, and how much oil it would need, and whether I had enough. So I sat and calculated that if a tumblerful of oil would make a smooth place about seven yards across, which I should say was the width of the one I was in,–which I calculated by a measure of my eye as to how many breadths of carpet it would take to cover it,–and if the bay was two miles across betwixt our house and my sister-in-law’s, and, although I couldn’t get the thing down to exact figures, I saw pretty soon that I wouldn’t have oil enough to make a level cuttin’ through all those mountainous billows, and besides, even if I had enough to take me across, what would be the good of goin’ if there wasn’t any oil left to fill my sister-in-law’s lamp?
“While I was thinkin’ and calculatin’ a perfectly dreadful thing happened, which made me think if I didn’t get out of this pretty soon I’d find myself in a mighty risky predicament. The oil-can, which I had forgotten to put the cork in, toppled over, and before I could grab it every drop of the oil ran into the hind part of the boat, where it was soaked up by a lot of dry dust that was there. No wonder my heart sank when I saw this. Glancin’ wildly around me, as people will do when they are scared, I saw the smooth place I was in gettin’ smaller and smaller, for the kerosene was evaporatin’, as it will do even off woollen clothes if you give it time enough. The first pond I had come out of seemed to be covered up, and the great, towerin’, throbbin’ precipice of sea-water was a-closin’ around me.
“Castin’ down my eyes in despair, I happened to look through the crack in the bottom of the boat, and oh, what a blessed relief it was! for down there everything was smooth and still, and I could see the sand on the bottom, as level and hard, no doubt, as it was on the beach. Suddenly the thought struck me that that bottom would give me the only chance I had of gettin’ out of the frightful fix I was in. If I could fill that oil-can with air, and then puttin’ it under my arm and takin’ a long breath if I could drop down on that smooth bottom, I might run along toward shore, as far as I could, and then, when I felt my breath was givin’ out, I could take a pull at the oil-can and take another run, and then take another pull and another run, and perhaps the can would hold air enough for me until I got near enough to shore to wade to dry land. To be sure, the sharks and other monsters were down there, but then they must have been awfully frightened, and perhaps they might not remember that man was their nat’ral enemy. Anyway, I thought it would be better to try the smooth water passage down there than stay and be swallowed up by the ragin’ waves on top.
“So I blew the can full of air and corked it, and then I tore up some of the boards from the bottom of the boat so as to make a hole big enough for me to get through,–and you sailormen needn’t wriggle so when I say that, for you all know a divin’-bell hasn’t any bottom at all and the water never comes in,–and so when I got the hole big enough I took the oil-can under my arm, and was just about to slip down through it when I saw an awful turtle a-walkin’ through the sand at the bottom. Now, I might trust sharks and swordfishes and sea-serpents to be frightened and forget about their nat’ral enemies, but I never could trust a gray turtle as big as a cart, with a black neck a yard long, with yellow bags to its jaws, to forget anything or to remember anything. I’d as lieve get into a bath-tub with a live crab as to go down there. It wasn’t of no use even so much as thinkin’ of it, so I gave up that plan and didn’t once look through that hole again.”
“And what did you do, madam?” asked Captain Bird, who was regarding her with a face of stone.
“I used electricity,” she said. “Now don’t start as if you had a shock of it. That’s what I used. When I was younger than I was then, and sometimes visited friends in the city, we often amused ourselves by rubbing our feet on the carpet until we got ourselves so full of electricity that we could put up our fingers and light the gas. So I said to myself that if I could get full of electricity for the purpose of lightin’ the gas I could get full of it for other purposes, and so, without losin’ a moment, I set to work. I stood up on one of the seats, which was dry, and I rubbed the bottoms of my shoes backward and forward on it with such violence and swiftness that they pretty soon got warm and I began fillin’ with electricity, and when I was fully charged with it from my toes to the top of my head, I just sprang into the water and swam ashore. Of course I couldn’t sink, bein’ full of electricity.”
Captain Bird heaved a long sigh and rose to his feet, whereupon the other mariners rose to their feet “Madam,” said Captain Bird, “what’s to pay for the supper and–the rest of the entertainment?”
“The supper is twenty-five cents apiece,” said the Widow Ducket, “and everything else is free, gratis.”
Whereupon each mariner put his hand into his trousers pocket, pulled out a silver quarter, and handed it to the widow. Then, with four solemn “Good evenin’s,” they went out to the front gate.
“Cast off, Captain Jenkinson,” said Captain Bird, “and you, Captain Burress, clew him up for’ard. You can stay in the bow, Captain Sanderson, and take the sheet-lines. I’ll go aft.”
All being ready, each of the elderly mariners clambered over a wheel, and having seated themselves, they prepared to lay their course for Cuppertown.
But just as they were about to start, Captain Jenkinson asked that they lay to a bit, and clambering down over his wheel, he reentered the front gate and went up to the door of the house, where the widow and Dorcas were still standing.
“Madam,” said he, “I just came back to ask what became of your brother-in-law through his wife’s not bein’ able to put no light in the window?”
“The storm drove him ashore on our side of the bay,” said she, “and the next mornin’ he came up to our house, and I told him all that had happened to me. And when he took our boat and went home and told that story to his wife, she just packed up and went out West, and got divorced from him. And it served him right, too.”
“Thank you, ma’am,” said Captain Jenkinson, and going out of the gate, he clambered up over the wheel, and the wagon cleared for Cuppertown.
When the elderly mariners were gone, the Widow Ducket, still standing in the door, turned to Dorcas.
“Think of it!” she said. “To tell all that to me, in my own house! And after I had opened my one jar of brandied peaches, that I’d been keepin’ for special company!”
“In your own house!” ejaculated Dorcas. “And not one of them brandied peaches left!”
The widow jingled the four quarters in her hand before she slipped them into her pocket.
“Anyway, Dorcas,” she remarked, “I think we can now say we are square with all the world, and so let’s go in and wash the dishes.”
“Yes,” said Dorcas, “we’re square.”