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diff --git a/34392-h/34392-h.htm b/34392-h/34392-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6b930d8 --- /dev/null +++ b/34392-h/34392-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,8637 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" +"http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" xml:lang="en" lang="en"> +<head> +<meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=utf-8" /> +<meta http-equiv="Content-Style-Type" content="text/css" /> +<title>The Project Gutenberg eBook of Cape Cod, by Henry David Thoreau</title> +<link rel="coverpage" href="images/cover.jpg" /> +<style type="text/css"> + +body { margin-left: 20%; + margin-right: 20%; + text-align: justify } + +h1, h2, h3, h4, h5, h6 {text-align: center; font-style: normal; font-weight: +normal; line-height: 1.5; margin-top: .5em; margin-bottom: .5em;} + +h1 {font-size: 300%; + margin-top: 0.6em; + margin-bottom: 0.6em; + letter-spacing: 0.12em; + word-spacing: 0.2em; + text-indent: 0em;} +h2 {font-size: 150%; margin-top: 2em; margin-bottom: 1em;} +h3 {font-size: 150%; margin-top: 2em;} +h4 {font-size: 120%;} +h5 {font-size: 110%;} +h6 {font-size: 100%;} + +.no-break {page-break-before: avoid;} /* for epubs */ + +hr {width: 80%; margin-top: 2em; margin-bottom: 2em;} + +div.chapter {page-break-before: always; margin-top: 4em;} + +p {text-indent: 1em; + margin-top: 0.25em; + margin-bottom: 0.25em; } + +.p2 {margin-top: 2em;} + +p.poem {text-indent: 0%; + margin-left: 10%; + font-size: 90%; + margin-top: 1em; + margin-bottom: 1em; } + +p.letter {text-indent: 0%; + margin-left: 10%; + margin-right: 10%; + margin-top: 1em; + margin-bottom: 1em; } + +p.noindent {text-indent: 0% } + +p.center {text-align: center; + text-indent: 0em; + margin-top: 1em; + margin-bottom: 1em; } + +p.right {text-align: right; + margin-right: 10%; + margin-top: 1em; + margin-bottom: 1em; } + +p.footnote {font-size: 90%; + text-indent: 0%; + margin-left: 10%; + margin-right: 10%; + margin-top: 1em; + margin-bottom: 1em; } + +sup { vertical-align: top; font-size: 0.6em; } + +p.asterism {text-align: center; + font-size: 150%; + margin-top: 1em; + margin-bottom: 1em; } + +div.fig { display:block; + margin:0 auto; + text-align:center; + margin-top: 1em; + margin-bottom: 1em;} + +p.caption {font-weight: bold; + text-align: center; } + +a:link {color:blue; text-decoration:none} +a:visited {color:blue; text-decoration:none} +a:hover {color:red} + +</style> + +</head> + +<body> + +<div style='text-align:center; font-size:1.2em; font-weight:bold'>The Project Gutenberg eBook of Cape Cod, by Henry David Thoreau</div> +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and +most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions +whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms +of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online +at <a href="https://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a>. If you +are not located in the United States, you will have to check the laws of the +country where you are located before using this eBook. +</div> +<div style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Title: Cape Cod</div> +<div style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Author: Henry D. Thoreau</div> +<div style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Illustrator: Clifton Johnson</div> +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>Release Date: November 21, 2010 [eBook #34392]<br /> +[Most recently updated: December 10, 2022]</div> +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>Language: English</div> +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>Character set encoding: UTF-8</div> +<div style='display:block; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Produced by: Steve Mattern</div> +<div style='margin-top:2em; margin-bottom:4em'>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK CAPE COD ***</div> + +<div class="fig" style="width:60%;"> +<img src="images/cover.jpg" style="width:100%;" alt="cover " /><br/><br/> +</div> + +<div class="fig" style="width: 60%;"> +<a name="illus01"></a> +<img src="images/clamdigger.jpg" width="303" height="450" alt="The Clam-Digger" title="" /> +</div> + +<h1>Cape Cod</h1> + +<h2 class="no-break">by Henry David Thoreau</h2> + +<h5>Author of “A Week on the Concord,” “Walden,”<br/> +“Excursions,” “The Maine Woods,” etc.</h5> + +<h3><small>ILLUSTRATED BY</small><br/> +CLIFTON JOHNSON</h3> + +<div class="fig" style="width: 60%;"> +<img src="images/thoreau.jpg" width="200" height="204" alt="thoreau" title="" /> +</div> + +<h4>NEW YORK<br/> +THOMAS Y. CROWELL & CO.<br/> +PUBLISHERS</h4> + +<h6>Copyright, 1908<br/> +<big>By THOMAS Y. CROWELL & CO.</big><br/> +THE UNIVERSITY PRESS, CAMBRIDGE, U.S.A.</h6> + +<hr /> + +<h2>Contents</h2> + +<table summary="" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto"> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#pref01">INTRODUCTION</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap01">I. The Shipwreck</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap02">II. Stage-coach Views</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap03">III. The Plains Of Nauset</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap04">IV. The Beach</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap05">V. The Wellfleet Oysterman</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap06">VI. The Beach Again</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap07">VII. Across the Cape</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap08">VIII. The Highland Light</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap09">IX. The Sea and the Desert</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap10">X. Provincetown</a></td> +</tr> + +</table> + +<h2>ILLUSTRATIONS</h2> + +<table summary="" > + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#illus01">The Clam-Digger (Photogravure)</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#illus02">Cohasset—The little cove at Whitehead promontory</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#illus03">An old windmill</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#illus04">A street in Sandwich</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#illus05">The old Higgins tavern at Orleans</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#illus06">A Nauset lane</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#illus07">Nauset Bay</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#illus08">A scarecrow</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#illus09">Millennium Grove camp-meeting grounds</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#illus10">A Cape Cod citizen</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#illus11">Wreckage under the sand-bluff</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#illus12">Herring River at Wellfleet</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#illus13">A characteristic gable with many windows</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#illus14">A Wellfleet oysterman</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#illus15">Wellfleet</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#illus16">Hunting for a leak</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#illus17">Truro—Starting on a voyage</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#illus18">Unloading the day’s catch</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#illus19">A Truro footpath</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#illus20">Truro meeting-house on the hill</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#illus21">A herd of cows</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#illus22">Pond Village</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#illus23">Dragging a dory up on the beach</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#illus24">An old wrecker at home</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#illus25">The Highland Light</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#illus26">Towing along shore</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#illus27">A cranberry meadow</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#illus28">The sand dunes drifting in upon the trees</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#illus29">The white breakers on the Atlantic side</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#illus30">In Provincetown harbor</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#illus31">Provincetown—A bit of the village from the wharf</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#illus32">The day of rest</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#illus33">A Provincetown fishing-vessel</a></td> +</tr> + +</table> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="pref01"></a>INTRODUCTION</h2> + +<p> +Of the group of notables who in the middle of the last century made the little +Massachusetts town of Concord their home, and who thus conferred on it a +literary fame both unique and enduring, Thoreau is the only one who was Concord +born. His neighbor, Emerson, had sought the place in mature life for rural +retirement, and after it became his chosen retreat, Hawthorne, Alcott, and the +others followed; but Thoreau, the most peculiar genius of them all, was native +to the soil. +</p> + +<p> +In 1837, at the age of twenty, he graduated from Harvard, and for three years +taught school in his home town. Then he applied himself to the business in +which his father was engaged,—the manufacture of lead pencils. He +believed he could make a better pencil than any at that time in use; but when +he succeeded and his friends congratulated him that he had now opened his way +to fortune he responded that he would never make another pencil. “Why +should I?” said he. “I would not do again what I have done +once.” +</p> + +<p> +So he turned his attention to miscellaneous studies and to nature. When he +wanted money he earned it by some piece of manual labor agreeable to him, as +building a boat or a fence, planting, or surveying. He never married, very +rarely went to church, did not vote, refused to pay a tax to the State, ate no +flesh, drank no wine, used no tobacco; and for a long time he was simply an +oddity in the estimation of his fellow-townsmen. But when they at length came +to understand him better they recognized his genuineness and sincerity and his +originality, and they revered and admired him. He was entirely independent of +the conventional, and his courage to live as he saw fit and to defend and +uphold what he believed to be right never failed him. Indeed, so devoted was he +to principle and his own ideals that he seems never to have allowed himself one +indifferent or careless moment. +</p> + +<p> +He was a man of the strongest local attachments, and seldom wandered beyond his +native township. A trip abroad did not tempt him in the least. It would mean in +his estimation just so much time lost for enjoying his own village, and he +says: “At best, Paris could only be a school in which to learn to live +here—a stepping-stone to Concord.” +</p> + +<p> +He had a very pronounced antipathy to the average prosperous city man, and in +speaking of persons of this class remarks: “They do a little business +commonly each day in order to pay their board, and then they congregate in +sitting-rooms, and feebly fabulate and paddle in the social slush, and go +unashamed to their beds and take on a new layer of sloth.” +</p> + +<p> +The men he loved were those of a more primitive sort, unartificial, with the +daring to cut loose from the trammels of fashion and inherited custom. +Especially he liked the companionship of men who were in close contact with +nature. A half-wild Irishman, or some rude farmer, or fisherman, or hunter, +gave him real delight; and for this reason, Cape Cod appealed to him strongly. +It was then a very isolated portion of the State, and its dwellers were just +the sort of independent, self-reliant folk to attract him. In his account of +his rambles there the human element has large place, and he lingers fondly over +the characteristics of his chance acquaintances and notes every salient remark. +They, in turn, no doubt found him interesting, too, though the purposes of the +wanderer were a good deal of a mystery to them, and they were inclined to think +he was a pedler. +</p> + +<p> +His book was the result of several journeys, but the only trip of which he +tells us in detail was in October. That month, therefore, was the one I chose +for my own visit to the Cape when I went to secure the series of pictures that +illustrate this edition; for I wished to see the region as nearly as possible +in the same guise that Thoreau describes it. From Sandwich, where his record of +Cape experiences begins, and where the inner shore first takes a decided turn +eastward, I followed much the same route he had travelled in 1849, clear to +Provincetown, at the very tip of the hook. +</p> + +<p> +Thoreau has a good deal to say of the sandy roads and toilsome walking. In that +respect there has been marked improvement, for latterly a large proportion of +the main highway has been macadamed. Yet one still encounters plenty of the old +yielding sand roads that make travel a weariness either on foot or in teams. +Another feature to which the nature lover again and again refers is the +windmills. The last of these ceased grinding a score of years ago, though +several continue to stand in fairly perfect condition. There have been changes +on the Cape, but the landscape in the main presents the same appearance it did +in Thoreau’s time. As to the people, if you see them in an unconventional +way, tramping as Thoreau did, their individuality retains much of the interest +that he discovered. +</p> + +<p> +Our author’s report of his trip has a piquancy that is quite alluring. +This might be said of all his books, for no matter what he wrote about, his +comments were certain to be unusual; and it is as much or more for the +revelations of his own tastes, thoughts, and idiosyncrasies that we read him as +for the subject matter with which he deals. He had published only two books +when he died in 1862 at the age of forty-four, and his “Cape Cod” +did not appear until 1865. Nor did the public at first show any marked interest +in his books. During his life, therefore, the circle of his admirers was very +small, but his fame has steadily increased since, and the stimulus of his +lively descriptions and observations seems certain of enduring appreciation. +</p> + +<p class="right"> +Clifton Johnson. +</p> + +<p> +Hadley, Mass. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap01"></a>I<br/> +THE SHIPWRECK</h2> + +<p> +Wishing to get a better view than I had yet had of the ocean, which, we are +told, covers more than two-thirds of the globe, but of which a man who lives a +few miles inland may never see any trace, more than of another world, I made a +visit to Cape Cod in October, 1849, another the succeeding June, and another to +Truro in July, 1855; the first and last time with a single companion, the +second time alone. I have spent, in all, about three weeks on the Cape; walked +from Eastham to Provincetown twice on the Atlantic side, and once on the Bay +side also, excepting four or five miles, and crossed the Cape half a dozen +times on my way; but having come so fresh to the sea, I have got but little +salted. My readers must expect only so much saltness as the land breeze +acquires from blowing over an arm of the sea, or is tasted on the windows and +the bark of trees twenty miles inland, after September gales. I have been +accustomed to make excursions to the ponds within ten miles of Concord, but +latterly I have extended my excursions to the seashore. +</p> + +<p> +I did not see why I might not make a book on Cape Cod, as well as my neighbor +on “Human Culture.” It is but another name for the same thing, and +hardly a sandier phase of it. As for my title, I suppose that the word Cape is +from the French <i>cap</i>; which is from the Latin <i>caput</i>, a head; which +is, perhaps, from the verb <i>capere</i>, to take,—that being the part by +which we take hold of a thing:—Take Time by the forelock. It is also the +safest part to take a serpent by. And as for Cod, that was derived directly +from that “great store of codfish” which Captain Bartholomew +Gosnold caught there in 1602; which fish appears to have been so called from +the Saxon word <i>codde</i>, “a case in which seeds are lodged,” +either from the form of the fish, or the quantity of spawn it contains; whence +also, perhaps, <i>codling</i> (<i>pomum coctile?</i>) and coddle,—to cook +green like peas. (V. Dic.) +</p> + +<p> +Cape Cod is the bared and bended arm of Massachusetts: the shoulder is at +Buzzard’s Bay; the elbow, or crazy-bone, at Cape Mallebarre; the wrist at +Truro; and the sandy fist at Provincetown,—behind which the State stands +on her guard, with her back to the Green Mountains, and her feet planted on the +floor of the ocean, like an athlete protecting her Bay,—boxing with +northeast storms, and, ever and anon, heaving up her Atlantic adversary from +the lap of earth,—ready to thrust forward her other fist, which keeps +guard the while upon her breast at Cape Ann. +</p> + +<p> +On studying the map, I saw that there must be an uninterrupted beach on the +east or outside of the forearm of the Cape, more than thirty miles from the +general line of the coast, which would afford a good sea view, but that, on +account of an opening in the beach, forming the entrance to Nauset Harbor, in +Orleans, I must strike it in Eastham, if I approached it by land, and probably +I could walk thence straight to Race Point, about twenty-eight miles, and not +meet with any obstruction. +</p> + +<p> +We left Concord, Massachusetts, on Tuesday, October 9th, 1849. On reaching +Boston, we found that the Provincetown steamer, which should have got in the +day before, had not yet arrived, on account of a violent storm; and, as we +noticed in the streets a handbill headed, “Death! one hundred and +forty-five lives lost at Cohasset,” we decided to go by way of Cohasset. +We found many Irish in the cars, going to identify bodies and to sympathize +with the survivors, and also to attend the funeral which was to take place in +the afternoon;—and when we arrived at Cohasset, it appeared that nearly +all the passengers were bound for the beach, which was about a mile distant, +and many other persons were flocking in from the neighboring country. There +were several hundreds of them streaming off over Cohasset common in that +direction, some on foot and some in wagons,—and among them were some +sportsmen in their hunting-jackets, with their guns, and game-bags, and dogs. +As we passed the graveyard we saw a large hole, like a cellar, freshly dug +there, and, just before reaching the shore, by a pleasantly winding and rocky +road, we met several hay-riggings and farm-wagons coming away toward the +meeting-house, each loaded with three large, rough deal boxes. We did not need +to ask what was in them. The owners of the wagons were made the undertakers. +Many horses in carriages were fastened to the fences near the shore, and, for a +mile or more, up and down, the beach was covered with people looking out for +bodies, and examining the fragments of the wreck. There was a small island +called Brook Island, with a hut on it, lying just off the shore. This is said +to be the rockiest shore in Massachusetts, from Nantasket to +Scituate,—hard sienitic rocks, which the waves have laid bare, but have +not been able to crumble. It has been the scene of many a shipwreck. +</p> + +<p> +The brig <i>St. John</i>, from Galway, Ireland, laden with emigrants, was +wrecked on Sunday morning; it was now Tuesday morning, and the sea was still +breaking violently on the rocks. There were eighteen or twenty of the same +large boxes that I have mentioned, lying on a green hillside, a few rods from +the water, and surrounded by a crowd. The bodies which had been recovered, +twenty-seven or eight in all, had been collected there. Some were rapidly +nailing down the lids, others were carting the boxes away, and others were +lifting the lids, which were yet loose, and peeping under the cloths, for each +body, with such rags as still adhered to it, was covered loosely with a white +sheet. I witnessed no signs of grief, but there was a sober dispatch of +business which was affecting. One man was seeking to identify a particular +body, and one undertaker or carpenter was calling to another to know in what +box a certain child was put. I saw many marble feet and matted heads as the +cloths were raised, and one livid, swollen, and mangled body of a drowned +girl,—who probably had intended to go out to service in some American +family,—to which some rags still adhered, with a string, half concealed +by the flesh, about its swollen neck; the coiled-up wreck of a human hulk, +gashed by the rocks or fishes, so that the bone and muscle were exposed, but +quite bloodless,—merely red and white,—with wide-open and staring +eyes, yet lustreless, dead-lights; or like the cabin windows of a stranded +vessel, filled with sand. Sometimes there were two or more children, or a +parent and child, in the same box, and on the lid would perhaps be written with +red chalk, “Bridget such-a-one, and sister’s child.” The +surrounding sward was covered with bits of sails and clothing. I have since +heard, from one who lives by this beach, that a woman who had come over before, +but had left her infant behind for her sister to bring, came and looked into +these boxes and saw in one,—probably the same whose superscription I have +quoted,—her child in her sister’s arms, as if the sister had meant +to be found thus; and within three days after, the mother died from the effect +of that sight. +</p> + +<p> +We turned from this and walked along the rocky shore. In the first cove were +strewn what seemed the fragments of a vessel, in small pieces mixed with sand +and sea-weed, and great quantities of feathers; but it looked so old and rusty, +that I at first took it to be some old wreck which had lain there many years. I +even thought of Captain Kidd, and that the feathers were those which sea-fowl +had cast there; and perhaps there might be some tradition about it in the +neighborhood. I asked a sailor if that was the <i>St. John</i>. He said it was. +I asked him where she struck. He pointed to a rock in front of us, a mile from +the shore, called the Grampus Rock, and added: +</p> + +<p> +“You can see a part of her now sticking up; it looks like a small +boat.” +</p> + +<p> +I saw it. It was thought to be held by the chain-cables and the anchors. I +asked if the bodies which I saw were all that were drowned. +</p> + +<p> +“Not a quarter of them,” said he. +</p> + +<p> +“Where are the rest?” +</p> + +<p> +“Most of them right underneath that piece you see.” +</p> + +<p> +It appeared to us that there was enough rubbish to make the wreck of a large +vessel in this cove alone, and that it would take many days to cart it off. It +was several feet deep, and here and there was a bonnet or a jacket on it. In +the very midst of the crowd about this wreck, there were men with carts busily +collecting the sea-weed which the storm had cast up, and conveying it beyond +the reach of the tide, though they were often obliged to separate fragments of +clothing from it, and they might at any moment have found a human body under +it. Drown who might, they did not forget that this weed was a valuable manure. +This shipwreck had not produced a visible vibration in the fabric of society. +</p> + +<p> +About a mile south we could see, rising above the rocks, the masts of the +British brig which the <i>St. John</i> had endeavored to follow, which had +slipped her cables and, by good luck, run into the mouth of Cohasset Harbor. A +little further along the shore we saw a man’s clothes on a rock; further, +a woman’s scarf, a gown, a straw bonnet, the brig’s caboose, and +one of her masts high and dry, broken into several pieces. In another rocky +cove, several rods from the water, and behind rocks twenty feet high, lay a +part of one side of the vessel, still hanging together. It was, perhaps, forty +feet long, by fourteen wide. I was even more surprised at the power of the +waves, exhibited on this shattered fragment, than I had been at the sight of +the smaller fragments before. The largest timbers and iron braces were broken +superfluously, and I saw that no material could withstand the power of the +waves; that iron must go to pieces in such a case, and an iron vessel would be +cracked up like an egg-shell on the rocks. Some of these timbers, however, were +so rotten that I could almost thrust my umbrella through them. They told us +that some were saved on this piece, and also showed where the sea had heaved it +into this cove, which was now dry. When I saw where it had come in, and in what +condition, I wondered that any had been saved on it. A little further on a +crowd of men was collected around the mate of the <i>St. John</i>, who was +telling his story. He was a slim-looking youth, who spoke of the captain as the +master, and seemed a little excited. He was saying that when they jumped into +the boat, she filled, and, the vessel lurching, the weight of the water in the +boat caused the painter to break, and so they were separated. Whereat one man +came away, saying:— +</p> + +<p> +“Well, I don’t see but he tells a straight story enough. You see, +the weight of the water in the boat broke the painter. A boat full of water is +very heavy,”—and so on, in a loud and impertinently earnest tone, +as if he had a bet depending on it, but had no humane interest in the matter. +</p> + +<p> +Another, a large man, stood near by upon a rock, gazing into the sea, and +chewing large quids of tobacco, as if that habit were forever confirmed with +him. +</p> + +<p> +“Come,” says another to his companion, “let’s be off. +We’ve seen the whole of it. It’s no use to stay to the +funeral.” +</p> + +<p> +Further, we saw one standing upon a rock, who, we were told, was one that was +saved. He was a sober-looking man, dressed in a jacket and gray pantaloons, +with his hands in the pockets. I asked him a few questions, which he answered; +but he seemed unwilling to talk about it, and soon walked away. By his side +stood one of the life-boatmen, in an oil-cloth jacket, who told us how they +went to the relief of the British brig, thinking that the boat of the <i>St. +John</i>, which they passed on the way, held all her crew,—for the waves +prevented their seeing those who were on the vessel, though they might have +saved some had they known there were any there. A little further was the flag +of the <i>St. John</i> spread on a rock to dry, and held down by stones at the +corners. This frail, but essential and significant portion of the vessel, which +had so long been the sport of the winds, was sure to reach the shore. There +were one or two houses visible from these rocks, in which were some of the +survivors recovering from the shock which their bodies and minds had sustained. +One was not expected to live. +</p> + +<p> +We kept on down the shore as far as a promontory called Whitehead, that we +might see more of the Cohasset Rocks. In a little cove, within half a mile, +there were an old man and his son collecting, with their team, the sea-weed +which that fatal storm had cast up, as serenely employed as if there had never +been a wreck in the world, though they were within sight of the Grampus Rock, +on which the <i>St. John</i> had struck. The old man had heard that there was a +wreck, and knew most of the particulars, but he said that he had not been up +there since it happened. It was the wrecked weed that concerned him most, +rock-weed, kelp, and sea-weed, as he named them, which he carted to his +barn-yard; and those bodies were to him but other weeds which the tide cast up, +but which were of no use to him. We afterwards came to the life-boat in its +harbor, waiting for another emergency,—and in the afternoon we saw the +funeral procession at a distance, at the head of which walked the captain with +the other survivors. +</p> + +<p> +On the whole, it was not so impressive a scene as I might have expected. If I +had found one body cast upon the beach in some lonely place, it would have +affected me more. I sympathized rather with the winds and waves, as if to toss +and mangle these poor human bodies was the order of the day. If this was the +law of Nature, why waste any time in awe or pity? If the last day were come, we +should not think so much about the separation of friends or the blighted +prospects of individuals. I saw that corpses might be multiplied, as on the +field of battle, till they no longer affected us in any degree, as exceptions +to the common lot of humanity. Take all the graveyards together, they are +always the majority. It is the individual and private that demands our +sympathy. A man can attend but one funeral in the course of his life, can +behold but one corpse. Yet I saw that the inhabitants of the shore would be not +a little affected by this event. They would watch there many days and nights +for the sea to give up its dead, and their imaginations and sympathies would +supply the place of mourners far away, who as yet knew not of the wreck. Many +days after this, something white was seen floating on the water by one who was +sauntering on the beach. It was approached in a boat, and found to be the body +of a woman, which had risen in an upright position, whose white cap was blown +back with the wind. I saw that the beauty of the shore itself was wrecked for +many a lonely walker there, until he could perceive, at last, how its beauty +was enhanced by wrecks like this, and it acquired thus a rarer and sublimer +beauty still. +</p> + +<div class="fig" style="width: 500px;"> +<a name="illus02"></a> +<img src="images/whitehead.jpg" width="500" height="308" alt="Cohasset, The little cove at Whitehead promontory" title="" /> +<p class="caption">Cohasset—The little cove at Whitehead promontory</p> +</div> + +<p> +Why care for these dead bodies? They really have no friends but the worms or +fishes. Their owners were coming to the New World, as Columbus and the Pilgrims +did,—they were within a mile of its shores; but, before they could reach +it, they emigrated to a newer world than ever Columbus dreamed of, yet one of +whose existence we believe that there is far more universal and convincing +evidence—though it has not yet been discovered by science—than +Columbus had of this; not merely mariners’ tales and some paltry +drift-wood and sea-weed, but a continual drift and instinct to all our shores. +I saw their empty hulks that came to land; but they themselves, meanwhile, were +cast upon some shore yet further west, toward which we are all tending, and +which we shall reach at last, it may be through storm and darkness, as they +did. No doubt, we have reason to thank God that they have not been +“shipwrecked into life again.” The mariner who makes the safest +port in Heaven, perchance, seems to his friends on earth to be shipwrecked, for +they deem Boston Harbor the better place; though perhaps invisible to them, a +skillful pilot comes to meet him, and the fairest and balmiest gales blow off +that coast, his good ship makes the land in halcyon days, and he kisses the +shore in rapture there, while his old hulk tosses in the surf here. It is hard +to part with one’s body, but, no doubt, it is easy enough to do without +it when once it is gone. All their plans and hopes burst like a bubble! Infants +by the score dashed on the rocks by the enraged Atlantic Ocean! No, no! If the +<i>St. John</i> did not make her port here, she has been telegraphed there. The +strongest wind cannot stagger a Spirit; it is a Spirit’s breath. A just +man’s purpose cannot be split on any Grampus or material rock, but itself +will split rocks till it succeeds. +</p> + +<p> +The verses addressed to Columbus, dying, may, with slight alterations, be +applied to the passengers of the <i>St. John:</i>— +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +“Soon with them will all be over,<br/> +Soon the voyage will be begun<br/> +That shall bear them to discover,<br/> +Far away, a land unknown.<br/> +<br/> +“Land that each, alone, must visit,<br/> +But no tidings bring to men;<br/> +For no sailor, once departed,<br/> +Ever hath returned again.<br/> +<br/> +“No carved wood, no broken branches,<br/> +Ever drift from that far wild;<br/> +He who on that ocean launches<br/> +Meets no corse of angel child.<br/> +<br/>“Undismayed, my noble sailors,<br/> +Spread, then spread your canvas out;<br/> +Spirits! on a sea of ether<br/> +Soon shall ye serenely float!<br/> +<br/> +“Where the deep no plummet soundeth,<br/> +Fear no hidden breakers there,<br/> +And the fanning wing of angels<br/> +Shall your bark right onward bear.<br/> +<br/> +“Quit, now, full of heart and comfort,<br/> +These rude shores, they are of earth;<br/> +Where the rosy clouds are parting,<br/> +There the blessed isles loom forth.” +</p> + +<p> +One summer day, since this, I came this way, on foot, along the shore from +Boston. It was so warm that some horses had climbed to the very top of the +ramparts of the old fort at Hull, where there was hardly room to turn round, +for the sake of the breeze. The <i>Datura stramonium</i>, or thorn-apple, was +in full bloom along the beach; and, at sight of this cosmopolite,—this +Captain Cook among plants,—carried in ballast all over the world, I felt +as if I were on the highway of nations. Say, rather, this Viking, king of the +Bays, for it is not an innocent plant; it suggests not merely commerce, but its +attend-ant vices, as if its fibres were the stuff of which pirates spin their +yarns. I heard the voices of men shouting aboard a vessel, half a mile from the +shore, which sounded as if they were in a barn in the country, they being +between the sails. It was a purely rural sound. As I looked over the water, I +saw the isles rapidly wasting away, the sea nibbling voraciously at the +continent, the springing arch of a hill suddenly interrupted, as at Point +Alderton,—what botanists might call premorse,—showing, by its curve +against the sky, how much space it must have occupied, where now was water +only, On the other hand, these wrecks of isles were being fancifully arranged +into new shores, as at Hog Island, inside of Hull, where everything seemed to +be gently lapsing, into futurity. This isle had got the very form of a +ripple,—and I thought that the inhabitants should bear a ripple for +device on their shields, a wave passing over them, with the <i>datura</i>, +which is said to produce mental alienation of long duration without affecting +the bodily health,<a href="#linknote-1" name="linknoteref-1"><sup>[1]</sup></a> +springing from its edge. The most interesting thing which I heard of, in this +township of Hull, was an unfailing spring, whose locality was pointed out to +me, on the side of a distant hill, as I was panting along the shore, though I +did not visit it. Perhaps, if I should go through Rome, it would be some spring +on the Capitoline Hill I should remember the longest. It is true, I was +somewhat interested in the well at the old French fort, which was said to be +ninety feet deep, with a cannon at the bottom of it. On Nantasket beach I +counted a dozen chaises from the public-house. From time to time the riders +turned their horses toward the sea, standing in the water for the +coolness,—and I saw the value of beaches to cities for the sea breeze and +the bath. +</p> + +<p> +At Jerusalem village the inhabitants were collecting in haste, before a +thunder-shower now approaching, the Irish moss which they had spread to dry. +The shower passed on one side, and gave me a few drops only, which did not cool +the air. I merely felt a puff upon my cheek, though, within sight, a vessel was +capsized in the bay, and several others dragged their anchors, and were near +going ashore. The sea-bathing at Cohasset Rocks was perfect. The water was +purer and more transparent than any I had ever seen. There was not a particle +of mud or slime about it. The bottom being sandy, I could see the sea-perch +swimming about. The smooth and fantastically worn rocks, and the perfectly +clean and tress-like rock-weeds falling over you, and attached so firmly to the +rocks that you could pull yourself up by them, greatly enhanced the luxury of +the bath. The stripe of barnacles just above the weeds reminded me of some +vegetable growth,—the buds, and petals, and seed-vessels of flowers. They +lay along the seams of the rock like buttons on a waistcoat. It was one of the +hottest days in the year, yet I found the water so icy cold that I could swim +but a stroke or two, and thought that, in case of shipwreck, there would be +more danger of being chilled to death than simply drowned. One immersion was +enough to make you forget the dog-days utterly. Though you were sweltering +before, it will take you half an hour now to remember that it was ever warm. +There were the tawny rocks, like lions couchant, defying the ocean, whose waves +incessantly dashed against and scoured them with vast quantities of gravel. The +water held in their little hollows, on the receding of the tide, was so +crystalline that I could not believe it salt, but wished to drink it; and +higher up were basins of fresh water left by the rain,—all which, being +also of different depths and temperature, were convenient for different kinds +of baths. Also, the larger hollows in the smoothed rocks formed the most +convenient of seats and dressing-rooms. In these respects it was the most +perfect seashore that I had seen. +</p> + +<p> +I saw in Cohasset, separated from the sea only by a narrow beach, a handsome +but shallow lake of some four hundred acres, which, I was told, the sea had +tossed over the beach in a great storm in the spring, and, after the alewives +had passed into it, it had stopped up its outlet, and now the alewives were +dying: by thousands, and the inhabitants were apprehending a pestilence as the +water evaporated. It had live rocky islets in it. +</p> + +<p> +This Rock shore is called Pleasant Cove, on some maps; on the map of Cohasset, +that name appears to be confined to the particular cove where I saw the wreck +of the St. John. The ocean did not look, now, as if any were ever shipwrecked +in it; it was not grand and sublime, but beautiful as a lake. Not a vestige of +a wreck was visible, nor could I believe that the bones of many a shipwrecked +man were buried in that pure sand. But to go on with our first excursion. +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +<a name="linknote-1" id="linknote-1"></a> <a href="#linknoteref-1">[1]</a> +The Jamestown weed (or thorn-apple). “This, being an early plant, was +gathered very young for a boiled salad, by some of the soldiers sent thither +[<i>i.e.</i> to Virginia] to quell the rebellion of Bacon; and some of them ate +plentifully of it, the effect of which was a very pleasant comedy, for they +turned natural fools upon it for several days: one would blow up a feather in +the air; another would dart straws at it with much fury; and another, stark +naked, was sitting up in a corner like a monkey, grinning and making mows at +them; a fourth would fondly kiss and paw his companions, and sneer in their +faces, with a countenance more antic than any in a Dutch droll. In this frantic +condition they were confined, lest they should, in their folly, destroy +themselves,—though it was observed that all their actions were full of +innocence and good nature. Indeed, they were not very cleanly. A thousand such +simple tricks they played, and after eleven days returned to themselves again, +not remembering anything that had passed.”—Beverly’s +<i>History of Virginia</i>, p. 120. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap02"></a>II<br/> +STAGE COACH VIEWS</h2> + +<p> +After spending the night in Bridgewater, and picking up a few arrow-heads there +in the morning, we took the cars for Sandwich, where we arrived before noon. +This was the terminus of the “Cape Cod Railroad,” though it is but +the beginning of the Cape. As it rained hard, with driving mists, and there was +no sign of its holding up, we here took that almost obsolete conveyance, the +stage, for “as far as it went that day,” as we told the driver. We +had forgotten how far a stage could go in a day, but we were told that the +Cape roads were very “heavy,” though they added that, being of +sand, the rain would improve them. This coach was an exceedingly narrow one, +but as there was a slight spherical excess over two on a seat, the driver +waited till nine passengers had got in, without taking the measure of any of +them, and then shut the door after two or three ineffectual slams, as if the +fault were all in the hinges or the latch,—while we timed our +inspirations and expirations so as to assist him. +</p> + +<p> +We were now fairly on the Cape, which extends from Sandwich eastward +thirty-five miles, and thence north and northwest thirty more, in all +sixty-five, and has an average breadth of about five miles. In the interior it +rises to the height of two hundred, and sometimes perhaps three hundred feet +above the level of the sea. According to Hitchcock, the geologist of the State, +it is composed almost entirely of sand, even to the depth of three hundred feet +in some places, though there is probably a concealed core of rock a little +beneath the surface, and it is of diluvian origin, excepting a small portion at +the extremity and elsewhere along the shores, which is alluvial. For the first +half of the Cape large blocks of stone are found, here and there, mixed with +the sand, but for the last thirty miles boulders, or even gravel, are rarely +met with. Hitchcock conjectures that the ocean has, in course of time, eaten +out Boston Harbor and other bays in the mainland, and that the minute +fragments have been deposited by the currents at a distance from the shore, and +formed this sand-bank. Above the sand, if the surface is subjected to +agricultural tests, there is found to be a thin layer of soil gradually +diminishing from Barnstable to Truro, where it ceases; but there are many holes +and rents in this weather-beaten garment not likely to be stitched in time, +which reveal the naked flesh of the Cape, and its extremity is completely bare. +</p> + +<p> +I at once got out my book, the eighth volume of the Collections of the +Massachusetts Historical Society, printed in 1802, which contains some short +notices of the Cape towns, and began to read up to where I was, for in the cars +I could not read as fast as I travelled. To those who came from the side of +Plymouth, it said: “After riding through a body of woods, twelve miles in +extent, interspersed with but few houses, the settlement of Sandwich appears, +with a more agreeable effect, to the eye of the traveller.” Another +writer speaks of this as a <i>beautiful</i> village. But I think that our +villages will bear to be contrasted only with one another, not with Nature. I +have no great respect for the writer’s taste, who talks easily about +beautiful villages, embellished, perchance, with a “fulling-mill,” +“a handsome academy,” or meeting-house, and “a number of +shops for the different mechanic arts”; where the green and white houses +of the gentry, drawn up in rows, front on a street of which it would be +difficult to tell whether it is most like a desert or a long stable-yard. Such +spots can be beautiful only to the weary traveller, or the returning +native,—or, perchance, the repentant misanthrope; not to him who, with +unprejudiced senses, has just come out of the woods, and approaches one of +them, by a bare road, through a succession of straggling homesteads where he +cannot tell which is the alms-house. However, as for Sandwich, I cannot speak +particularly. Ours was but half a Sandwich at most, and that must have fallen +on the buttered side some time. I only saw that it was a closely built town for +a small one, with glass-works to improve its sand, and narrow streets in which +we turned round and round till we could not tell which way we were going, and +the rain came in, first on this side, and then on that, and I saw that they in +the houses were more comfortable than we in the coach. My book also said of +this town, “The inhabitants, in general, are substantial +livers.”—that is. I suppose, they do not live like philosophers: +but, as the stage did not stop long enough for us to dine, we had no +opportunity to test the truth of this statement. It may have referred, however, +to the quantity “of oil they would yield.” It further said, +“The inhabitants of Sandwich generally manifest a fond and steady +adherence to the manners, employments, and modes of living which characterized +their fathers”; which made me think that they were, after all, very much +like all the rest of the world;—and it added that this was “a +resemblance, which, at this day, will constitute no impeachment of either their +virtue or taste”: which remark proves to me that the writer was one with +the rest of them. No people ever lived by cursing their fathers, however great +a curse their fathers might have been to them. But it must be confessed that +ours was old authority, and probably they have changed all that now. +</p> + +<div class="fig" style="width: 307px;"> +<a name="illus03"></a> +<img src="images/windmill.jpg" width="307" height="450" alt="An old windmill" title="" /> +<p class="caption">An old windmill</p> +</div> + +<p> +Our route was along the Bay side, through Barnstable, Yarmouth, Dennis, and +Brewster, to Orleans, with a range of low hills on our right, running down the +Cape. The weather was not favorable for wayside views, but we made the most of +such glimpses of land and water as we could get through the rain. The country +was, for the most part, bare, or with only a little scrubby wood left on the +hills. We noticed in Yarmouth—and, if I do not mistake, in +Dennis—large tracts where pitch-pines were planted four or five years +before. They were in rows, as they appeared when we were abreast of them, and, +excepting that there were extensive vacant spaces, seemed to be doing +remarkably well. This, we were told, was the only use to which such tracts +could be profitably put. Every higher eminence had a pole set up on it, with an +old storm-coat or sail tied to it, for a signal, that those on the south side +of the Cape, for instance, might know when the Boston packets had arrived on +the north. It appeared as if this use must absorb the greater part of the old +clothes of the Cape, leaving but few rags for the pedlers. The wind-mills on +the hills,—large weather-stained octagonal structures,—and the +salt-works scattered all along the shore, with their long rows of vats resting +on piles driven into the marsh, their low, turtle-like roofs, and their +slighter wind-mills, were novel and interesting objects to an inlander. The +sand by the road-side was partially covered with bunches of a moss-like plant, +<i>Hudsonia tomentosa</i>, which a woman in the stage told us was called +“poverty-grass,” because it grew where nothing else would. +</p> + +<p> +I was struck by the pleasant equality which reigned among the stage company, +and their broad and invulnerable good-humor. They were what is called free and +easy, and met one another to advantage, as men who had at length learned how to +live. They appeared to know each other when they were strangers, they were so +simple and downright. They were well met, in an unusual sense, that is, they +met as well as they could meet, and did not seem to be troubled with any +impediment. They were not afraid nor ashamed of one another, but were contented +to make just such a company as the ingredients allowed. It was evident that the +same foolish respect was not here claimed for mere wealth and station that is +in many parts of New England; yet some of them were the “first +people,” as they are called, of the various towns through which we +passed. Retired sea-captains, in easy circumstances, who talked of farming as +sea-captains are wont; an erect, respectable, and trustworthy-looking man, in +his wrapper, some of the salt of the earth, who had formerly been the salt of +the sea; or a more courtly gentleman, who, perchance, had been a +representative to the General Court in his day; or a broad, red-faced Cape Cod +man, who had seen too many storms to be easily irritated; or a +fisherman’s wife, who had been waiting a week for a coaster to leave +Boston, and had at length come by the cars. +</p> + +<p> +A strict regard for truth obliges us to say that the few women whom we saw that +day looked exceedingly pinched up. They had prominent chins and noses, having +lost all their teeth, and a sharp <i>W</i> would represent their profile. They +were not so well preserved as their husbands; or perchance they were well +preserved as dried specimens. (Their husbands, however, were pickled.) But we +respect them not the less for all that; our own dental system is far from +perfect. +</p> + +<p> +Still we kept on in the rain, or, if we stopped, it was commonly at a +post-office, and we thought that writing letters, and sorting them against our +arrival, must be the principal employment of the inhabitants of the Cape this +rainy day. The post-office appeared a singularly domestic institution here. +Ever and anon the stage stopped before some low shop or dwelling, and a +wheelwright or shoemaker appeared in his shirt sleeves and leather apron, with +spectacles newly donned, holding up Uncle Sam’s bag, as if it were a +slice of home-made cake, for the travellers, while he retailed some piece of +gossip to the driver, really as indifferent to the presence of the former as if +they were so much baggage. In one instance we understood that a woman was the +postmistress, and they said that she made the best one on the road; but we +suspected that the letters must be subjected to a very close scrutiny there. +While we were stopping for this purpose at Dennis, we ventured to put our heads +out of the windows, to see where we were going, and saw rising before us, +through the mist, singular barren hills, all stricken with poverty-grass, +looming up as if they were in the horizon, though they were close to us, and we +seemed to have got to the end of the land on that side, notwithstanding that +the horses were still headed that way. Indeed, that part of Dennis which we saw +was an exceedingly barren and desolate country, of a character which I can find +no name for; such a surface, perhaps, as the bottom of the sea made dry land +day before yesterday. It was covered with poverty-grass, and there was hardly a +tree in sight, but here and there a little weather-stained, one-storied house, +with a red roof,—for often the roof was painted, though the rest of the +house was not,—standing bleak and cheerless, yet with a broad foundation +to the land, where the comfort must have been all inside. Yet we read in the +Gazetteer—for we carried that too with us—that, in 1837, one +hundred and fifty masters of vessels, belonging to this town, sailed from the +various ports of the Union. There must be many more houses in the south part of +the town, else we cannot imagine where they all lodge when they are at home, if +ever they are there; but the truth is, their houses are floating ones, and +their home is on the ocean. There were almost no trees at all in this part of +Dennis, nor could I learn that they talked of setting out any. It is true, +there was a meeting-house, set round with Lombardy poplars, in a hollow square, +the rows fully as straight as the studs of a building, and the corners as +square; but, if I do not mistake, every one of them was dead. I could not help +thinking that they needed a revival here. Our book said that, in 1795, there +was erected in Dennis “an elegant meeting-house, with a steeple.” +Perhaps this was the one; though whether it had a steeple, or had died down so +far from sympathy with the poplars, I do not remember. Another meeting-house in +this town was described as a “neat building”; but of the +meeting-house in Chatham, a neighboring town, for there was then but one, +nothing is said, except that it “is in good repair,”—both +which remarks, I trust, may be understood as applying to the churches spiritual +as well as material. However, “elegant meeting-houses,” from that +Trinity one on Broadway, to this at Nobscusset, in my estimation, belong to the +same category with “beautiful villages.” I was never in season to +see one. Handsome is that handsome does. What they did for shade here, in warm +weather, we did not know, though we read that “fogs are more frequent in +Chatham than in any other part of the country; and they serve in summer, +instead of trees, to shelter the houses against the heat of the sun. To those +who delight in extensive vision,”—is it to be inferred that the +inhabitants of Chatham do not?—“they are unpleasant, but they are +not found to be unhealthful.” Probably, also, the unobstructed sea-breeze +answers the purpose of a fan. The historian of Chatham says further, that +“in many families there is no difference between the breakfast and +supper; cheese, cakes, and pies being as common at the one as at the +other.” But that leaves us still uncertain whether they were really +common at either. +</p> + +<div class="fig" style="width: 305px;"> +<a name="illus04"></a> +<img src="images/sandwichstreet.jpg" width="305" height="450" alt="A street in Sandwich" title="" /> +<p class="caption">A street in Sandwich</p> +</div> + +<p> +The road, which was quite hilly, here ran near the Bay-shore, having the Bay on +one side, and “the rough hill of Scargo,” said to be the highest +land on the Cape, on the other. Of the wide prospect of the Bay afforded by the +summit of this hill, our guide says: “The view has not much of the +beautiful in it, but it communicates a strong emotion of the sublime.” +That is the kind of communication which we love to have made to us. We passed +through the village of Suet, in Dennis, on Suet and Quivet Necks, of which it +is said, “when compared with Nobscusset,”—we had a misty +recollection of having passed through, or near to, the latter,—“it +may be denominated a pleasant village; but, in comparison with the village of +Sandwich, there is little or no beauty in it.” However, we liked Dennis +well, better than any town we had seen on the Cape, it was so novel, and, in +that stormy day, so sublimely dreary. +</p> + +<p> +Captain John Sears, of Suet, was the first person in this country who obtained +pure marine salt by solar evaporation alone; though it had long been made in a +similar way on the coast of France, and elsewhere. This was in the year 1776, +at which time, on account of the war, salt was scarce and dear. The Historical +Collections contain an interesting account of his experiments, which we read +when we first saw the roofs of the salt-works. Barnstable county is the most +favorable locality for these works on our northern coast,—there is so +little fresh water here emptying into ocean. Quite recently there were about +two millions of dollars invested in this business here. But now the Cape is +unable to compete with the importers of salt and the manufacturers of it at the +West, and, accordingly, her salt-works are fast going to decay. From making +salt, they turn to fishing more than ever. The Gazetteer will uniformly tell +you, under the head of each town, how many go a-fishing, and the value of the +fish and oil taken, how much salt is made and used, how many are engaged in the +coasting trade, how many in manufacturing palm-leaf hats, leather, boots, +shoes, and tinware, and then it has done, and leaves you to imagine the more +truly domestic manufactures which are nearly the same all the world over. +</p> + +<p> +Late in the afternoon, we rode through Brewster, so named after Elder Brewster, +for fear he would be forgotten else. Who has not heard of Elder Brewster? Who +knows who he was? This appeared to be the modern-built town of the Cape, the +favorite residence of retired sea-captains. It is said that “there are +more masters and mates of vessels which sail on foreign voyages belonging to +this place than to any other town in the country.” There were many of the +modern American houses here, such as they turn out at Cambridgeport, standing +on the sand; you could almost swear that they had been floated down Charles +River, and drifted across the Bay. I call them American, because they are paid +for by Americans, and “put up” by American carpenters; but they are +little removed from lumber; only Eastern stuff disguised with white paint, the +least interesting kind of drift-wood to me. Perhaps we have reason to be proud +of our naval architecture, and need not go to the Greeks, or the Goths, or the +Italians, for the models of our vessels. Sea-captains do not employ a +Cambridgeport carpenter to build their floating houses, and for their houses on +shore, if they must copy any, it would be more agreeable to the imagination to +see one of their vessels turned bottom upward, in the Numidian fashion. We read +that, “at certain seasons, the reflection of the sun upon the windows of +the houses in Wellfleet and Truro (across the inner side of the elbow of the +Cape) is discernible with the naked eye, at a distance of eighteen miles and +upward, on the county road.” This we were pleased to imagine, as we had +not seen the sun for twenty-four hours. +</p> + +<div class="fig" style="width: 500px;"> +<a name="illus05"></a> +<img src="images/higgins.jpg" width="500" height="322" alt="The old Higgins tavern at Orleans" title="" /> +<p class="caption">The old Higgins tavern at Orleans</p> +</div> + +<p> +The same author (the Rev. John Simpkins) said of the inhabitants, a good while +ago: “No persons appear to have a greater relish for the social circle +and domestic pleasures. They are not in the habit of frequenting taverns, +unless on public occasions. I know not of a proper idler or tavern-haunter in +the place.” This is more than can be said of my townsmen. +</p> + +<p> +At length we stopped for the night at Higgins’s tavern, in Orleans, +feeling very much as if we were on a sand-bar in the ocean, and not knowing +whether we should see land or water ahead when the mist cleared away. We here +overtook two Italian boys, who had waded thus far down the Cape through the +sand, with their organs on their backs, and were going on to Provincetown. What +a hard lot, we thought, if the Provincetown people should shut their doors +against them! Whose yard would they go to next? Yet we concluded that they had +chosen wisely to come here, where other music than that of the surf must be +rare. Thus the great civilizer sends out its emissaries, sooner or later, to +every sandy cape and light-house of the New World which the census-taker +visits, and summons the savage there to surrender. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap03"></a>III<br/> +THE PLAINS OF NAUSET</h2> + +<p> +The next morning, Thursday, October 11th, it rained, as hard as ever; but we +were determined to proceed on foot, nevertheless. We first made some inquiries +with regard to the practicability of walking up the shore on the Atlantic side +to Provincetown, whether we should meet with any creeks or marshes to trouble +us. Higgins said that there was no obstruction, and that it was not much +farther than by the road, but he thought that we should find it very +“heavy” walking in the sand; it was bad enough in the road, a horse +would sink in up to the fetlocks there. But there was one man at the tavern who +had walked it, and he said that we could go very well, though it was sometimes +inconvenient and even dangerous walking under the bank, when there was a great +tide, with an easterly wind, which caused the sand to cave. For the first four +or five miles we followed the road, which here turns to the north on the elbow, +—the narrowest part of the Cape,—that we might clear an inlet from +the ocean, a part of Nauset Harbor, in Orleans, on our right. We found the +travelling good enough for walkers on the sides of the roads, though it was +“heavy” for horses in the middle. We walked with our umbrellas +behind us, since it blowed hard as well as rained, with driving mists, as the +day before, and the wind helped us over the sand at a rapid rate. Everything +indicated that we had reached a strange shore. The road was a mere lane, +winding over bare swells of bleak and barren-looking land. The houses were few +and far between, besides being small and rusty, though they appeared to be kept +in good repair, and their dooryards, which were the unfenced Cape, were tidy; +or, rather, they looked as if the ground around them was blown clean by the +wind. Perhaps the scarcity of wood here, and the consequent absence of the +wood-pile and other wooden traps, had something to do with this appearance. +They seemed, like mariners ashore, to have sat right down to enjoy the firmness +of the land, without studying their postures or habiliments. To them it was +merely <i>terra firma</i> and <i>cognita</i>, not yet <i>fertilis</i> and +<i>jucunda</i>. Every landscape which is dreary enough has a certain beauty to +my eyes, and in this instance its permanent qualities were enhanced by the +weather. Everything told of the sea, even when we did not see its waste or hear +its roar. For birds there were gulls, and for carts in the fields, boats turned +bottom upward against the houses, and sometimes the rib of a whale was woven +into the fence by the road-side. The trees were, if possible, rarer than the +houses, excepting apple-trees, of which there were a few small orchards in the +hollows. These were either narrow and high, with flat tops, having lost their +side branches, like huge plum-bushes growing in exposed situations, or else +dwarfed and branching immediately at the ground, like quince-bushes. They +suggested that, under like circumstances, all trees would at last acquire like +habits of growth. I afterward saw on the Cape many full-grown apple-trees not +higher than a man’s head; one whole orchard, indeed, where all the fruit +could have been gathered by a man standing on the ground; but you could hardly +creep beneath the trees. Some, which the owners told me were twenty years old, +were only three and a half feet high, spreading at six inches from the ground +five feet each way, and being withal surrounded with boxes of tar to catch the +cankerworms, they looked like plants in flower-pots, and as if they might be +taken into the house in the winter. In another place, I saw some not much +larger than currant-bushes; yet the owner told me that they had borne a barrel +and a half of apples that fall. If they had been placed close together, I could +have cleared them all at a jump. I measured some near the Highland Light in +Truro, which had been taken from the shrubby woods thereabouts when young, and +grafted. One, which had been set ten years, was on an average eighteen inches +high, and spread nine feet with a flat top. It had borne one bushel of apples +two years before. Another, probably twenty years old from the seed, was five +feet high, and spread eighteen feet, branching, as usual, at the ground, so +that you could not creep under it. This bore a barrel of apples two years +before. The owner of these trees invariably used the personal pronoun in +speaking of them; as, “I got <i>him</i> out of the woods, but <i>he</i> +doesn’t bear.” The largest that I saw in that neighborhood was nine +feet high to the topmost leaf, and spread thirty-three feet, branching at the +ground five ways. +</p> + +<div class="fig" style="width: 277px;"> +<a name="illus06"></a> +<img src="images/nausetlane.jpg" width="277" height="450" alt="A Nauset lane" title="" /> +<p class="caption">A Nauset lane</p> +</div> + +<p> +In one yard I observed a single, very healthy-looking tree, while all the rest +were dead or dying. The occupant said that his father had manured all but that +one with blackfish. +</p> + +<p> +This habit of growth should, no doubt, be encouraged; and they should not be +trimmed up, as some travelling practitioners have advised. In 1802 there was +not a single fruit-tree in Chatham, the next town to Orleans, on the south; and +the old account of Orleans says: “Fruit-trees cannot be made to grow +within a mile of the ocean. Even those which are placed at a greater distance +are injured by the east winds; and, after violent storms in the spring, a +saltish taste is perceptible on their bark.” We noticed that they were +often covered with a yellow lichen-like rust, the <i>Parmelia parietina</i>. +</p> + +<p> +The most foreign and picturesque structures on the Cape, to an inlander, not +excepting the salt-works, are the wind-mills,—gray-looking octagonal +towers, with long timbers slanting to the ground in the rear, and there resting +on a cart-wheel, by which their fans are turned round to face the wind. These +appeared also to serve in some measure for props against its force. A great +circular rut was worn around the building by the wheel. The neighbors who +assemble to turn the mill to the wind are likely to know which way it blows, +without a weathercock. They looked loose and slightly locomotive, like huge +wounded birds, trailing a wing or a leg, and re-minded one of pictures of the +Netherlands. Being on elevated ground, and high in themselves, they serve as +landmarks,—for there are no tall trees, or other objects commonly, which +can be seen at a distance in the horizon; though the outline of the land itself +is so firm and distinct that an insignificant cone, or even precipice of sand, +is visible at a great distance from over the sea. Sailors making the land +commonly steer either by the wind-mills or the meeting-houses. In the country, +we are obliged to steer by the meeting-houses alone. Yet the meeting-house is a +kind of wind-mill, which runs one day in seven, turned either by the winds of +doctrine or public opinion, or more rarely by the winds of Heaven, where +another sort of grist is ground, of which, if it be not all bran or musty, if +it be not <i>plaster</i>, we trust to make bread of life. +</p> + +<p> +There were, here and there, heaps of shells in the fields, where clams had been +opened for bait; for Orleans is famous for its shell-fish, especially clams, +or, as our author says, “to speak more properly, worms.” The shores +are more fertile than the dry land. The inhabitants measure their crops, not +only by bushels of corn, but by barrels of clams. A thousand barrels of +clam-bait are counted as equal in value to six or eight thousand bushels of +Indian corn, and once they were procured without more labor or expense, and the +supply was thought to be inexhaustible. “For,” runs the history, +“after a portion of the shore has been dug over, and almost all the clams +taken up, at the end of two years, it is said, they are as plenty there as +ever. It is even affirmed by many persons, that it is as necessary to stir the +clam ground frequently as it is to hoe a field of potatoes; because, if this +labor is omitted, the clams will be crowded too closely together, and will be +prevented from increasing in size.” But we were told that the small clam, +<i>Mya arenaria</i>, was not so plenty here as formerly. Probably the clam +ground has been stirred too frequently, after all. Nevertheless, one man, who +complained that they fed pigs with them and so made them scarce, told me that +he dug and opened one hundred and twenty-six dollars’ worth in one +winter, in Truro. +</p> + +<div class="fig" style="width: 500px;"> +<a name="illus07"></a> +<img src="images/nausetbay.jpg" width="500" height="304" alt="Nauset Bay" title="" /> +<p class="caption">Nauset Bay</p> +</div> + +<p> +We crossed a brook, not more than fourteen rods long, between Orleans and +Eastham, called Jeremiah’s Gutter. The Atlantic is said sometimes to meet +the Bay here, and isolate the northern part of the Cape. The streams of the +Cape are necessarily formed on a minute scale, since there is no room for them +to run, without tumbling immediately into the sea; and beside, we found it +difficult to run ourselves in that sand, when there was no want of room. Hence, +the least channel where water runs, or may run, is important, and is dignified +with a name. We read that there is no running water in Chatham, which is the +next town. The barren aspect of the land would hardly be believed if described. +It was such soil, or rather land, as, to judge from appearances, no farmer in +the interior would think of cultivating, or even fencing. Generally, the +ploughed fields of the Cape look white and yellow, like a mixture of salt and +Indian meal. This is called soil. All an inlander’s notions of soil and +fertility will be confounded by a visit to these parts, and he will not be +able, for some time afterward, to distinguish soil from sand. The historian of +Chatham says of a part of that town, which has been gained from the sea: +“There is a doubtful appearance of a soil beginning to be formed. It is +styled <i>doubtful</i>, because it would not be observed by every eye, and +perhaps not acknowledged by many.” We thought that this would not be a +bad description of the greater part of the Cape. There is a “beach” +on the west side of Eastham, which we crossed the next summer, half a mile +wide, and stretching across the township, containing seventeen hundred acres, +on which there is not now a particle of vegetable mould, though it formerly +produced wheat. All sands are here called “beaches,” whether they +are waves of water or of air that dash against them, since they commonly have +their origin on the shore. “The sand in some places,” says the +historian of Eastham, “lodging against the beach-grass, has been raised +into hills fifty feet high, where twenty-five years ago no hills existed. In +others it has filled up small valleys, and swamps. Where a strong-rooted bush +stood, the appearance is singular: a mass of earth and sand adheres to it, +resembling a small tower. In several places, rocks, which were formerly covered +with soil, are disclosed, and being lashed by the sand, driven against them by +the wind, look as if they were recently dug from a quarry.” +</p> + +<p> +We were surprised to hear of the great crops of corn which are still raised in +Eastham, notwithstanding the real and apparent barrenness. Our landlord in +Orleans had told us that he raised three or four hundred bushels of corn +annually, and also of the great number of pigs which he fattened. In +Champlain’s “Voyages,” there is a plate representing the +Indian cornfields hereabouts, with their wigwams in the midst, as they appeared +in 1605, and it was here that the Pilgrims, to quote their own words, +“bought eight or ten hogsheads of corn and beans” of the Nauset +Indians, in 1622, to keep themselves from starving.<a href="#linknote-2" +name="linknoteref-2"><sup>[1]</sup></a> +</p> + +<p> +“In 1667 the town [of Eastham] voted that every housekeeper should kill +twelve blackbirds or three crows, which did great damage to the corn; and this +vote was repeated for many years.” In 1695 an additional order was +passed, namely, that “every unmarried man in the township shall kill six +blackbirds, or three crows, while he remains single; as a penalty for not doing +it, shall not be married until he obey this order.” The blackbirds, +however, still molest the corn. I saw them at it the next summer, and there +were many scarecrows, if not scare-blackbirds, in the fields, which I often +mistook for men. +</p> + +<div class="fig" style="width: 284px;"> +<a name="illus08"></a> +<img src="images/scarecrow.jpg" width="284" height="450" alt="A scarecrow" title="" /> +<p class="caption">A scarecrow</p> +</div> + +<p> +From which I concluded that either many men were not married, or many +blackbirds were. Yet they put but three or four kernels in a hill, and let +fewer plants remain than we do. In the account of Eastham, in the +“Historical Collections,” printed in 1802, it is said, that +“more corn is produced than the inhabitants consume, and about a thousand +bushels are annually sent to market. The soil being free from stones, a plough +passes through it speedily; and after the corn has come up, a small Cape horse, +somewhat larger than a goat, will, with the assistance of two boys, easily hoe +three or four acres in a day; several farmers are accustomed to produce five +hundred bushels of grain annually, and not long since one raised eight hundred +bushels on sixty acres.” Similar accounts are given to-day; indeed, the +recent accounts are in some instances suspectable repetitions of the old, and I +have no doubt that their statements are as often founded on the exception as +the rule, and that by far the greater number of acres are as barren as they +appear to be. It is sufficiently remarkable that any crops can be raised here, +and it may be owing, as others have suggested, to the amount of moisture in the +atmosphere, the warmth of the sand, and the rareness of frosts. A miller, who +was sharpening his stones, told me that, forty years ago, he had been to a +husking here, where five hundred bushels were husked in one evening, and the +corn was piled six feet high or more, in the midst, but now, fifteen or +eighteen bushels to an acre were an average yield. I never saw fields of such +puny and unpromising looking corn as in this town. Probably the inhabitants are +contented with small crops from a great surface easily cultivated. It is not +always the most fertile land that is the most profitable, and this sand may +repay cultivation, as well as the fertile bottoms of the West. It is said, +moreover, that the vegetables raised in the sand, without manure, are +remarkably sweet, the pumpkins especially, though when their seed is planted in +the interior they soon degenerate. I can testify that the vegetables here, when +they succeed at all, look remarkably green and healthy, though perhaps it is +partly by contrast with the sand. Yet the inhabitants of the Cape towns, +generally, do not raise their own meal or pork. Their gardens are commonly +little patches, that have been redeemed from the edges of the marshes and +swamps. +</p> + +<p> +All the morning we had heard the sea roar on the eastern shore, which was +several miles distant; for it still felt the effects of the storm in which the +<i>St. John</i> was wrecked,—though a school-boy, whom we overtook, +hardly knew what we meant, his ears were so used to it. He would have more +plainly heard the same sound in a shell. It was a very inspiriting sound to +walk by, filling the whole air, that of the sea dashing against the land, heard +several miles inland. Instead of having a dog to growl before your door, to +have an Atlantic Ocean to growl for a whole Cape! On the whole, we were glad of +the storm, which would show us the ocean in its angriest mood. Charles Darwin +was assured that the roar of the surf on the coast of Chiloe, after a heavy +gale, could be heard at night a distance of “21 sea miles across a hilly +and wooded country.” We conversed with the boy we have mentioned, who +might have been eight years old, making him walk the while under the lee of our +umbrella; for we thought it as important to know what was life on the Cape to a +boy as to a man. We learned from him where the best grapes were to be found in +that neighborhood. He was carrying his dinner in a pail; and, without any +impertinent questions being put by us, it did at length appear of what it +consisted. The homeliest facts are always the most acceptable to an inquiring +mind. At length, before we got to Eastham meeting-house, we left the road and +struck across the country for the eastern shore at Nauset Lights,—three +lights close together, two or three miles distant from us. They were so many +that they might be distinguished from others; but this seemed a shiftless and +costly way of accomplishing that object. We found ourselves at once on an +apparently boundless plain, without a tree or a fence, or, with one or two +exceptions, a house in sight. Instead of fences, the earth was sometimes thrown +up into a slight ridge. My companion compared it to the rolling prairies of +Illinois. In the storm of wind and rain which raged when we traversed it, it no +doubt appeared more vast and desolate than it really is. As there were no +hills, but only here and there a dry hollow in the midst of the waste, and the +distant horizon was concealed by mist, we did not know whether it was high or +low. A solitary traveller whom we saw perambulating in the distance loomed like +a giant. He appeared to walk slouchingly, as if held up from above by straps +under his shoulders, as much as supported by the plain below. Men and boys +would have appeared alike at a little distance, there being no object by which +to measure them. Indeed, to an inlander, the Cape landscape is a constant +mirage. This kind of country extended a mile or two each way. These were the +“Plains of Nauset,” once covered with wood, where in winter the +winds howl and the snow blows right merrily in the face of the traveller. I was +glad to have got out of the towns, where I am wont to feel unspeakably mean and +disgraced,—to have left behind me for a season the bar-rooms of +Massachusetts, where the full-grown are not weaned from savage and filthy +habits,—still sucking a cigar. My spirits rose in proportion to the +outward dreariness. The towns need to be ventilated. The gods would be pleased +to see some pure flames from their altars. They are not to be appeased with +cigar-smoke. +</p> + +<p> +As we thus skirted the back-side of the towns, for we did not enter any +village, till we got to Provincetown, we read their histories under our +umbrellas, rarely meeting anybody. The old accounts are the richest in +topography, which was what we wanted most; and, indeed, in most things else, +for I find that the readable parts of the modern accounts of these towns +consist, in a great measure, of quotations, acknowledged and unacknowledged, +from the older ones, without any additional information of equal +interest;—town histories, which at length run into a history of the +Church of that place, that being the only story they have to tell, and conclude +by quoting the Latin epitaphs of the old pastors, having been written in the +good old days of Latin and of Greek. They will go back to the ordination of +every minister and tell you faithfully who made the introductory prayer, and +who delivered the sermon; who made the ordaining prayer, and who gave the +charge; who extended the right hand of fellowship, and who pronounced the +benediction; also how many ecclesiastical councils convened from time to time +to inquire into the orthodoxy of some minister, and the names of all who +composed them. As it will take us an hour to get over this plain, and there is +no variety in the prospect, peculiar as it is, I will read a little in the +history of Eastham the while. +</p> + +<p> +When the committee from Plymouth had purchased the territory of Eastham of the +Indians, “it was demanded, who laid claim to Billingsgate?” which +was understood to be all that part of the Cape north of what they had +purchased. “The answer was, there was not any who owned it. +‘Then,’ said the committee, ‘that land is ours.’ The +Indians answered, that it was.” This was a remarkable assertion and +admission. The Pilgrims appear to have regarded themselves as Not Any’s +representatives. Perhaps this was the first instance of that quiet way of +“speaking for” a place not yet occupied, or at least not improved +as much as it may be, which their descendants have practised, and are still +practising so extensively. Not Any seems to have been the sole proprietor of +all America before the Yankees. But history says that, when the Pilgrims had +held the lands of Billingsgate many years, at length “appeared an Indian, +who styled himself Lieutenant Anthony,” who laid claim to them, and of +him they bought them. Who knows but a Lieutenant Anthony may be knocking at the +door of the White House some day? At any rate, I know that if you hold a thing +unjustly, there will surely be the devil to pay at last. +</p> + +<p> +Thomas Prince, who was several times the governor of the Plymouth colony, was +the leader of the settlement of Eastham. There was recently standing, on what +was once his farm, in this town, a pear-tree which is said to have been brought +from England, and planted there by him, about two hundred years ago. It was +blown down a few months before we were there. A late account says that it was +recently in a vigorous state; the fruit small, but excellent; and it yielded on +an average fifteen bushels. Some appropriate lines have been addressed to it, +by a Mr. Heman Doane, from which I will quote, partly because they are the only +specimen of Cape Cod verse which I remember to have seen, and partly because +they are not bad. +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +“Two hundred years have, on the wings of Time,<br/> + Passed with their joys and woes, since thou, Old Tree!<br/> +Put forth thy first leaves in this foreign clime.<br/> + Transplanted from the soil beyond the sea.” +</p> + +<p class="asterism"> +* * * * * +</p> + +<p> +[These stars represent the more clerical lines, and also those which have +deceased.] +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +“That exiled band long since have passed away,<br/> + And still, Old Tree I thou standest in the place<br/> +Where Prince’s hand did plant thee in his day,—<br/> + An undesigned memorial of his race<br/> +And time; of those our honored fathers,<br/> + when They came from Plymouth o’er and settled here;<br/> +Doane, Higgins, Snow, and other worthy men.<br/> + Whose names their sons remember to revere. +</p> + +<p class="asterism"> +* * * * * +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +“Old Time has thinned thy boughs. Old Pilgrim Tree!<br/> + And bowed thee with the weight of many years;<br/> +Yet ’mid the frosts of age, thy bloom we see,<br/> + And yearly still thy mellow fruit appears.” +</p> + +<p> +There are some other lines which I might quote, if they were not tied to +unworthy companions by the rhyme. When one ox will lie down, the yoke bears +hard on him that stands up. +</p> + +<p> +One of the first settlers of Eastham was Deacon John Doane, who died in 1707, +aged one hundred and ten. Tradition says that he was rocked in a cradle several +of his last years. That, certainly, was not an Achillean life. His mother must +have let him slip when she dipped him into the liquor which was to make him +invulnerable, and he went in, heels and all. Some of the stone-bounds to his +farm which he set up are standing to-day, with his initials cut in them. +</p> + +<p> +The ecclesiastical history of this town interested us somewhat. It appears that +“they very early built a small meeting-house, twenty feet square, with a +thatched roof through which they might fire their muskets,”—of +course, at the Devil. “In 1662, the town agreed that a part of every +whale cast on shore be appropriated for the support of the ministry.” No +doubt there seemed to be some propriety in thus leaving the support of the +ministers to Providence, whose servants they are, and who alone rules the +storms; for, when few whales were cast up, they might suspect that their +worship was not acceptable. The ministers must have sat upon the cliffs in +every storm, and watched the shore with anxiety. And, for my part, if I were a +minister I would rather trust to the bowels of the billows, on the back-side of +Cape Cod, to cast up a whale for me, than to the generosity of many a country +parish that I know. You cannot say of a country minister’s salary, +commonly, that it is “very like a whale.” Nevertheless, the +minister who depended on whales cast up must have had a trying time of it. I +would rather have gone to the Falkland Isles with a harpoon, and done with it. +Think of a whale having the breath of life beaten out of him by a storm, and +dragging in over the bars and guzzles, for the support of the ministry! What a +consolation it must have been to him! I have heard of a minister, who had been +a fisherman, being settled in Bridgewater for as long a time as he could tell a +cod from a haddock. Generous as it seems, this condition would empty most +country pulpits forthwith, for it is long since the fishers of men were +fishermen. Also, a duty was put on mackerel here to support a free-school; in +other words, the mackerel-school was taxed in order that the children’s +school might be free. “In 1665 the Court passed a law to inflict corporal +punishment on all persons, who resided in the towns of this government, who +denied the Scriptures.” Think of a man being whipped on a spring morning +till he was constrained to confess that the Scriptures were true! “It was +also voted by the town that all persons who should stand out of the +meeting-house during the time of divine service should be set in the +stocks.” It behooved such a town to see that sitting in the meeting-house +was nothing akin to sitting in the stocks, lest the penalty of obedience to the +law might be greater than that of disobedience. This was the Eastham famous of +late years for its camp-meetings, held in a grove near by, to which thousands +flock from all parts of the Bay. We conjectured that the reason for the perhaps +unusual, if not unhealthful, development of the religious sentiment here was +the fact that a large portion of the population are women whose husbands and +sons are either abroad on the sea, or else drowned, and there is nobody but +they and the ministers left behind. The old account says that “hysteric +fits are very common in Orleans, Eastham, and the towns below, particularly on +Sunday, in the times of divine service. When one woman is affected, five or six +others generally sympathize with her; and the congregation is thrown into the +utmost confusion. Several old men suppose, unphilosophically and uncharitably, +perhaps, that the will is partly concerned, and that ridicule and threats would +have a tendency to prevent the evil.” How this is now we did not learn. +We saw one singularly masculine woman, however, in a house on this very plain, +who did not look as if she was ever troubled with hysterics, or sympathized +with those that were; or, perchance, life itself was to her a hysteric +fit,—a Nauset woman, of a hardness and coarseness such as no man ever +possesses or suggests. It was enough to see the vertebrae and sinews of her +neck, and her set jaws of iron, which would have bitten a board-nail in two in +their ordinary action,—braced against the world, talking like a +man-of-war’s-man in petticoats, or as if shouting to you through a +breaker; who looked as if it made her head ache to live; hard enough for any +enormity. I looked upon her as one who had committed infanticide; who never had +a brother, unless it were some wee thing that died in infancy,—for what +need of him?—and whose father must have died before she was born. This +woman told us that the camp-meetings were not held the previous summer for fear +of introducing the cholera, and that they would have been held earlier this +summer, but the rye was so backward that straw would not have been ready for +them; for they lie in straw. There are sometimes one hundred and fifty +ministers (!) and five thousand hearers assembled. The ground, which is called +Millennium Grove, is owned by a company in Boston, and is the most suitable, or +rather unsuitable, for this purpose of any that I saw on the Cape. It is +fenced, and the frames of the tents are at all times to be seen interspersed +among the oaks. They have an oven and a pump, and keep all their kitchen +utensils and tent coverings and furniture in a permanent building on the spot. +They select a time for their meetings when the moon is full. A man is appointed +to clear out the pump a week beforehand, while the ministers are clearing their +throats; but, probably, the latter do not always deliver as pure a stream as +the former. I saw the heaps of clam-shells left under the tables, where they +had feasted in previous summers, and supposed, of course, that that was the +work of the unconverted, or the backsliders and scoffers. It looked as if a +camp-meeting must be a singular combination of a prayer-meeting and a picnic. +</p> + +<div class="fig" style="width: 500px;"> +<a name="illus09"></a> +<img src="images/millennium.jpg" width="500" height="347" alt="Millennium Grove camp-meeting grounds" title="" /> +<p class="caption">Millennium Grove camp-meeting grounds</p> +</div> + +<p> +The first minister settled here was the Rev. Samuel Treat, in 1672, a gentleman +who is said to be “entitled to a distinguished rank among the evangelists +of New England.” He converted many Indians, as well as white men, in his +day, and translated the Confession of Faith into the Nauset language. These +were the Indians concerning whom their first teacher, Richard Bourne, wrote to +Gookin, in 1674, that he had been to see one who was sick, “and there +came from him very savory and heavenly expressions,” but, with regard to +the mass of them, he says, “the truth is, that many of them are very +loose in their course, to my heartbreaking sorrow.” Mr. Treat is +described as a Calvinist of the strictest kind, not one of those who, by giving +up or explaining away, become like a porcupine disarmed of its quills, but a +consistent Calvinist, who can dart his quills to a distance and courageously +defend himself. There exists a volume of his sermons in manuscript, +“which,” says a commentator, “appear to have been designed +for publication.” I quote the following sentences at second hand, from a +Discourse on Luke xvi. 23, addressed to sinners:— +</p> + +<p> +“Thou must erelong go to the bottomless pit. Hell hath enlarged herself, +and is ready to receive thee. There is room enough for thy entertainment.... +</p> + +<p> +“Consider, thou art going to a place prepared by God on purpose to exalt +his justice in,—a place made for no other employment but torments. Hell +is God’s house of correction; and, remember, God doth all things like +himself. When God would show his justice, and what is the weight of his wrath, +he makes a hell where it shall, indeed, appear to purpose.... Woe to thy soul +when thou shalt be set up as a butt for the arrows of the Almighty.... +</p> + +<p> +“Consider, God himself shall be the principal agent in thy +misery,—his breath is the bellows which blows up the flame of hell +forever;—and if he punish thee, if he meet thee in his fury, he will not +meet thee as a man; he will give thee an omnipotent blow.” +</p> + +<p> +“Some think sinning ends with this life; but it is a mistake. The +creature is held under an everlasting law; the damned increase in sin in hell. +Possibly, the mention of this may please thee. But, remember, there shall be no +pleasant sins there; no eating, drinking, singing, dancing, wanton dalliance, +and drinking stolen waters, but damned sins, bitter, hellish sins; sins +exasperated by torments, cursing God, spite, rage, and blasphemy.—The +guilt of all thy sins shall be laid upon thy soul, and be made so many heaps of +fuel.... +</p> + +<p> +“Sinner, I beseech thee, realize the truth of these things. Do not go +about to dream that this is derogatory to God’s mercy, and nothing but a +vain fable to scare children out of their wits withal. God can be merciful, +though he make thee miserable. He shall have monuments enough of that precious +attribute, shining like stars in the place of glory, and singing eternal +hallelujahs to the praise of Him that redeemed them, though, to exalt the power +of his justice, he damn sinners heaps upon heaps.” +</p> + +<p> +“But,” continues the same writer, “with the advantage of +proclaiming the doctrine of terror, which is naturally productive of a sublime +and impressive style of eloquence (‘Triumphat ventoso gloriæ curru +orator, qui pectus angit, irritat, et implet terroribus.’ Vid. Burnet, De +Stat. Mort., p. 309), he could not attain the character of a popular preacher. +His voice was so loud that it could be heard at a great distance from the +meeting-house, even amidst the shrieks of hysterical women, and the winds that +howled over the plains of Nauset; but there was no more music in it than in the +discordant sounds with which it was mingled.” +</p> + +<p> +“The effect of such preaching,” it is said, “was that his +hearers were several times, in the course of his ministry, awakened and +alarmed; and on one occasion a comparatively innocent young man was frightened +nearly out of his wits, and Mr. Treat had to exert himself to make hell seem +somewhat cooler to him”; yet we are assured that “Treat’s +manners were cheerful, his conversation pleasant, and sometimes facetious, but +always decent. He was fond of a stroke of humor, and a practical joke, and +manifested his relish for them by long and loud fits of laughter.” +</p> + +<p> +This was the man of whom a well-known anecdote is told, which doubtless many of +my readers have heard, but which, nevertheless, I will venture to quote:— +</p> + +<p> +“After his marriage with the daughter of Mr. Willard (pastor of the South +Church in Boston), he was sometimes invited by that gentleman to preach in his +pulpit. Mr. Willard possessed a graceful delivery, a masculine and harmonious +voice; and, though he did not gain much reputation by his ‘Body of +Divinity,’ which is frequently sneered at, particularly by those who have +read it, yet in his sermons are strength of thought and energy of language. The +natural consequence was that he was generally admired. Mr. Treat having +preached one of his best discourses to the congregation of his father-in-law, +in his usual unhappy manner, excited universal disgust; and several nice judges +waited on Mr. Willard, and begged that Mr. Treat, who was a worthy, pious man, +it was true, but a wretched preacher, might never be invited into his pulpit +again. To this request Mr. Willard made no reply; but he desired his son-in-law +to lend him the discourse; which being left with him, he delivered it without +alteration to his people a few weeks after. They ran to Mr. Willard and +requested a copy for the press. ‘See the difference,’ they cried, +‘between yourself and your son-in-law; you have preached a sermon on the +same text as Mr. Treat’s, but whilst his was contemptible, yours is +excellent.’ As is observed in a note, ‘Mr. Willard, after producing +the sermon in the handwriting of Mr. Treat, might have addressed these sage +critics in the words of Phaedrus, +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +“‘En hic declarat, quales sitis judices.’”<a +href="#linknote-3" name="linknoteref-3"><sup>[2]</sup></a> +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Treat died of a stroke of the palsy, just after the memorable storm known +as the Great Snow, which left the ground around his house entirely bare, but +heaped up the snow in the road to an uncommon height. Through this an arched +way was dug, by which the Indians bore his bod to the grave. +</p> + +<p> +The reader will imagine us, all the while, steadily traversing that extensive +plain in a direction a little north of east toward Nauset Beach, and reading +under our umbrellas as we sailed, while it blowed hard with mingled mist and +rain, as if we were approaching a fit anniversary of Mr. Treat’s funeral. +We fancied that it was such a moor as that on which somebody perished in the +snow, as is related in the “Lights and Shadows of Scottish Life.” +</p> + +<p> +The next minister settled here was the “Rev. Samuel Osborn, who was born +in Ireland, and educated at the University of Dublin.” He is said to have +been “A man of wisdom and virtue,” and taught his people the use of +peat, and the art of drying and preparing it, which as they had scarcely any +other fuel, was a great blessing to them. He also introduced improvements in +agriculture. But, notwithstanding his many services, as he embraced the +religion of Arminius, some of his flock became dissatisfied. At length, an +ecclesiastical council, consisting of ten ministers, with their churches, sat +upon him, and they, naturally enough, spoiled his usefulness. The council +convened at the desire of two divine philosophers,—Joseph Doane and +Nathaniel Freeman. +</p> + +<p> +In their report they say, “It appears to the council that the Rev. Mr. +Osborn hath, in his preaching to this people, said, that what Christ did and +suffered doth nothing abate or diminish our obligation to obey the law of God, +and that Christ’s suffering and obedience were for himself; both parts of +which, we think, contain dangerous error.” +</p> + +<p> +“Also: ‘It hath been said, and doth appear to this council, that +the Rev. Mr. Osborn, both in public and in private, asserted that there are no +promises in the Bible but what are conditional, which we think, also, to be an +error, and do say that there are promises which are absolute and without any +condition,—such as the promise of a new heart, and that he will write his +law in our hearts.’” +</p> + +<p> +“Also, they say, ‘it hath been alleged, and doth appear to us, that +Mr. Osborn hath declared, that <i>obedience</i> is a considerable <i>cause</i> +of a person’s justification, which, we think, contains very dangerous +error.’” +</p> + +<p> +And many the like distinctions they made, such as some of my readers, probably, +are more familiar with than I am. So, far in the East, among the Yezidis, or +Worshippers of the Devil, so-called, the Chaldaeans, and others, according to +the testimony of travellers, you may still hear these remarkable disputations +on doctrinal points going on. Osborn was, accordingly, dismissed, and he +removed to Boston, where he kept school for many years. But he was fully +justified, methinks, by his works in the peat-meadow; one proof of which is, +that he lived to be between ninety and one hundred years old. +</p> + +<p> +The next minister was the Rev. Benjamin Webb, of whom, though a neighboring +clergy-man pronounced him “the best man and the best minister whom he +ever knew,” yet the historian says that, +</p> + +<p> +“As he spent his days in the uniform discharge of his duty (it reminds +one of a country muster) and there were no shades to give relief to his +character, not much can be said of him. (Pity the Devil did not plant a few +shade-trees along his avenues.) His heart was as pure as the new-fallen snow, +which completely covers every dark spot in a field; his mind was as serene as +the sky in a mild evening in June, when the moon shines without a cloud. Name +any virtue, and that virtue he practised; name any vice, and that vice he +shunned. But if peculiar qualities marked his character, they were his +humility, his gentleness, and his love of God. The people had long been taught +by a son of thunder (Mr. Treat): in him they were instructed by a son of +consolation, who sweetly allured them to virtue by soft persuasion, and by +exhibiting the mercy of the Supreme Being; for his thoughts were so much in +heaven that they seldom descended to the dismal regions below; and though of +the same religious sentiments as Mr. Treat, yet his attention was turned to +those glad tidings of great joy which a Saviour came to publish.” +</p> + +<p> +We were interested to hear that such a man had trodden the plains of Nauset. +</p> + +<p> +Turning over further in our book, our eyes fell on the name of the Rev. +Jonathan Bascom, of Orleans; “Senex emunctæ naris, doctus, et auctor +elegantium verborum, facetus, et dulcis festique sermonis.” And, again, +on that of the Rev. Nathan Stone, of Dennis: “Vir humilis, mitis, +blandus, advenarum hospes; (there was need of him there;) suis commodis in +terrâ non studens, reconditis thesauris in cœlo.” An easy virtue that, +there, for methinks no inhabitant of Dennis could be very studious about his +earthly commodity, but must regard the bulk of his treasures as in heaven. But +probably the most just and pertinent character of all is that which appears to +be given to the Rev. Ephraim Briggs, of Chatham, in the language of the later +Romans, “<i>Seip, sepoese, sepoemese, wechekum</i>,”—which +not being interpreted, we know not what it means, though we have no doubt it +occurs somewhere in the Scriptures, probably in the Apostle Eliot’s +Epistle to the Nipmucks. +</p> + +<p> +Let no one think that I do not love the old ministers. They were, probably, the +best men of their generation, and they deserve that their biographies should +fill the pages of the town histories. If I could but hear the “glad +tidings” of which they tell, and which, perchance, they heard, I might +write in a worthier strain than this. +</p> + +<p> +There was no better way to make the reader realize how wide and peculiar that +plain was, and how long it took to traverse it, than by inserting these +extracts in the midst of my narrative. +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +<a name="linknote-2" id="linknote-2"></a> <a href="#linknoteref-2">[1]</a> +They touched after this at a place called Mattachiest, where they got more +corn; but their shallop being cast away in a storm, the Governor was obliged to +return to Plymouth on foot, fifty miles through the woods. According to +Mourt’s Relation, “he came safely home, though weary and +<i>surbated</i>,” that is, foot-sore. (Ital. <i>sobattere</i>, Lat. +<i>sub</i> or <i>solea battere</i>, to bruise the soles of the feet; v. Dic. +Not “from <i>acerbatus</i>, embittered or aggrieved,” as one +commentator on this passage supposes.) This word is of very rare occurrence, +being applied only to governors and persons of like description, who are in +that predicament; though such generally have considerable mileage allowed them, +and might save their soles if they cared. +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +<a name="linknote-3" id="linknote-3"></a> <a href="#linknoteref-3">[2]</a> +Lib. v. Fab. 5. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap04"></a>IV<br/> +THE BEACH</h2> + +<p> +At length we reached the seemingly retreating boundary of the plain, and +entered what had appeared at a distance an upland marsh, but proved to be dry +sand covered with Beach-grass, the Bearberry, Bayberry, Shrub-oaks, and +Beach-plum, slightly ascending as we approached the shore; then, crossing over +a belt of sand on which nothing grew, though the roar of the sea sounded +scarcely louder than before, and we were prepared to go half a mile farther, we +suddenly stood on the edge of a bluff overlooking the Atlantic. Far below us +was the beach, from half a dozen to a dozen rods in width, with a long line of +breakers rushing to the strand. The sea was exceedingly dark and stormy, the +sky completely overcast, the clouds still dropping rain, and the wind seemed to +blow not so much as the exciting cause, as from sympathy with the already +agitated ocean. The waves broke on the bars at some distance from the shore, +and curving green or yellow as if over so many unseen dams, ten or twelve feet +high, like a thousand waterfalls, rolled in foam to the sand. There was nothing +but that savage ocean between us and Europe. +</p> + +<p> +Having got down the bank, and as close to the water as we could, where the sand +was the hardest, leaving the Nauset Lights behind us, we began to walk +leisurely up the beach, in a northwest direction, towards Provincetown, which +was about twenty-five miles distant, still sailing under our umbrellas with a +strong aft wind, admiring in silence, as we walked, the great force of the +ocean stream,— +</p> + +<p class="center"> +ποταμοῖο μέγα +σθένος +Ὠκεανοῖο. +</p> + +<p> +The white breakers were rushing to the shore; the foam ran up the sand, and +then ran back as far as we could see (and we imagined how much farther along +the Atlantic coast, before and behind us), as regularly, to compare great +things with small, as the master of a choir beats time with his white wand; and +ever and anon a higher wave caused us hastily to deviate from our path, and we +looked back on our tracks filled with water and foam. The breakers looked like +droves of a thousand wild horses of Neptune, rushing to the shore, with their +white manes streaming far behind; and when at length the sun shone for a +moment, their manes were rainbow-tinted. Also, the long kelp-weed was tossed up +from time to time, like the tails of sea-cows sporting in the brine. +</p> + +<div class="fig" style="width: 313px;"> +<a name="illus10"></a> +<img src="images/citizen.jpg" width="313" height="450" alt="A Cape Cod citizen" title="" /> +<p class="caption">A Cape Cod citizen</p> +</div> + +<p> +There was not a sail in sight, and we saw none that day,—for they had all +sought harbors in the late storm, and had not been able to get out again; and +the only human beings whom we saw on the beach for several days were one or two +wreckers looking for drift-wood, and fragments of wrecked vessels. After an +easterly storm in the spring, this beach is sometimes strewn with eastern wood +from one end to the other, which, as it belongs to him who saves it, and the +Cape is nearly destitute of wood, is a Godsend to the inhabitants. We soon met +one of these wreckers,—a regular Cape Cod man, with whom we parleyed, +with a bleached and weather-beaten face, within whose wrinkles I distinguished +no particular feature. It was like an old sail endowed with life,—a +hanging cliff of weather-beaten flesh,—like one of the clay boulders +which occurred in that sand-bank. He had on a hat which had seen salt water, +and a coat of many pieces and colors, though it was mainly the color of the +beach, as if it had been sanded. His variegated back—for his coat had +many patches, even between the shoulders—was a rich study to us, when we +had passed him and looked round. It might have been dishonorable for him to +have so many scars behind, it is true, if he had not had many more and more +serious ones in front. He looked as if he sometimes saw a doughnut, but never +descended to comfort; too grave to laugh, too tough to cry; as indifferent as a +clam,—like a sea-clam with hat on and legs, that was out walking the +strand. He may have been one of the Pilgrims,—Peregrine White, at +least,—who has kept on the back-side of the Cape, and let the centuries +go by. He was looking for wrecks, old logs, water-logged and covered with +barnacles, or bits of boards and joists, even chips, which he drew out of the +reach of the tide, and stacked up to dry. When the log was too large to carry +far, he cut it up where the last wave had left it, or rolling it a few feet +appropriated it by sticking two sticks into the ground crosswise above it. Some +rotten trunk, which in Maine cumbers the ground, and is, perchance, thrown into +the water on purpose, is here thus carefully picked up, split and dried, and +husbanded. Before winter the wrecker painfully carries these things up the bank +on his shoulders by a long diagonal slanting path made with a hoe in the sand, +if there is no hollow at hand. You may see his hooked pike-staff always lying +on the bank ready for use. He is the true monarch of the beach, whose +“right there is none to dispute,” and he is as much identified with +it as a beach-bird. +</p> + +<p> +Crantz, in his account of Greenland, quotes Dalagen’s relation of the +ways and usages of the Greenlanders, and says, “Whoever finds driftwood, +or the spoils of a shipwreck on the strand, enjoys it as his own, though, he +does not live there. But he must haul it ashore and lay a stone upon it, as a +token that some one has taken possession of it, and this stone is the deed of +security, for no other Greenlander will offer to meddle with it +afterwards.” Such is the instinctive law of nations. We have also this +account of drift-wood in Crantz: “As he (the Founder of Nature) has +denied this frigid rocky region the growth of trees, he has bid the streams of +the Ocean to convey to its shores a great deal of wood, which accordingly comes +floating thither, part without ice, but the most part along with it, and lodges +itself between the islands. Were it not for this, we Europeans should have no +wood to burn there, and the poor Greenlanders (who, it is true, do not use +wood, but train, for burning) would, however, have no wood to roof their +houses, to erect their tents, as also to build their boats, and to shaft their +arrows (yet there grew some small but crooked alders, &c.), by which they +must procure their maintenance, clothing and train for warmth, light, and +cooking. Among this wood are great trees torn up by the roots, which by driving +up and down for many years and rubbing on the ice, are quite bare of branches +and bark, and corroded with great wood-worms. A small part of this drift-wood +are willows, alder and birch trees, which come out of the bays in the south of +(<i>i.e.</i> Greenland); also large trunks of aspen-trees, which must come from +a greater distance; but the greatest part is pine and fir. We find also a good +deal of a sort of wood finely veined, with few branches; this I fancy is +larch-wood, which likes to decorate the sides of lofty, stony mountains. There +is also a solid, reddish wood, of a more agreeable fragrance than the common +fir, with visible cross-veins; which I take to be the same species as the +beautiful silver-firs, or <i>zirbel</i>, that have the smell of cedar, and grow +on the high Grison hills, and the Switzers wainscot their rooms with +them.” The wrecker directed us to a slight depression, called +Snow’s Hollow, by which we ascended the bank,—for elsewhere, if not +difficult, it was inconvenient to climb it on account of the sliding sand, +which filled our shoes. +</p> + +<p> +This sand-bank—the backbone of the Cape—rose directly from the +beach to the height of a hundred feet or more above the ocean. It was with +singular emotions that we first stood upon it and discovered what a place we +had chosen to walk on. On our right, beneath us, was the beach of smooth and +gently sloping sand, a dozen rods in width; next, the endless series of white +breakers; further still, the light green water over the bar, which runs the +whole length of the forearm of the Cape, and beyond this stretched the +unwearied and illimitable ocean. On our left, extending back from the very edge +of the bank, was a perfect desert of shining sand, from thirty to eighty rods +in width, skirted in the distance by small sand-hills fifteen or twenty feet +high; between which, however, in some places, the sand penetrated as much +farther. Next commenced the region of vegetation—a succession of small +hills and valleys covered with shrubbery, now glowing with the brightest +imaginable autumnal tints; and beyond this were seen, here and there, the +waters of the bay. Here, in Wellfleet, this pure sand plateau, known to sailors +as the Table Lands of Eastham, on account of its appearance, as seen from the +ocean, and because it once made a part of that town,—full fifty rods in +width, and in many places much more, and sometimes full one hundred and fifty +feet above the ocean,—stretched away northward from the southern boundary +of the town, without a particle of vegetation,—as level almost as a +table,—for two and a half or three miles, or as far as the eye could +reach; slightly rising towards the ocean, then stooping to the beach, by as +steep a slope as sand could lie on, and as regular as a military engineer could +desire. It was like the escarped rampart of a stupendous fortress, whose glacis +was the beach, and whose champaign the ocean.—From its surface we +overlooked the greater part of the Cape. In short, we were traversing a desert, +with the view of an autumnal landscape of extraordinary brilliancy, a sort of +Promised Land, on the one hand, and the ocean on the other. Yet, though the +prospect was so extensive, and the country for the most part destitute of +trees, a house was rarely visible,—we never saw one from the +beach,—and the solitude was that of the ocean and the desert combined. A +thousand men could not have seriously interrupted it, but would have been lost +in the vastness of the scenery as their footsteps in the sand. +</p> + +<p> +The whole coast is so free from rocks, that we saw but one or two for more than +twenty miles. The sand was soft like the beach, and trying to the eyes when the +sun shone. A few piles of drift-wood, which some wreckers had painfully brought +up the bank and stacked up there to dry, being the only objects in the desert, +looked indefinitely large and distant, even like wigwams, though, when we stood +near them, they proved to be insignificant little “jags” of wood. +</p> + +<p> +For sixteen miles, commencing at the Nauset Lights, the bank held its height, +though farther north it was not so level as here, but interrupted by slight +hollows, and the patches of Beach-grass and Bayberry frequently crept into the +sand to its edge. There are some pages entitled “A description of the +Eastern Coast of the County of Barnstable,” printed in 1802, pointing out +the spots on which the Trustees of the Humane Society have erected huts called +Charity or Humane Houses, “and other places where shipwrecked seamen may +look for shelter.” Two thousand copies of this were dispersed, that every +vessel which frequented this coast might be provided with one. I have read this +Shipwrecked Seaman’s Manual with a melancholy kind of interest,—for +the sound of the surf, or, you might say, the moaning of the sea, is heard all +through it, as if its author were the sole survivor of a shipwreck himself. Of +this part of the coast he says: “This highland approaches the ocean with +steep and lofty banks, which it is extremely difficult to climb, especially in +a storm. In violent tempests, during very high tides, the sea breaks against +the foot of them, rendering it then unsafe to walk on the strand which lies +between them and the ocean. Should the seaman succeed in his attempt to ascend +them, he must forbear to penetrate into the country, as houses are generally so +remote that they would escape his research during the night; he must pass on to +the valleys by which the banks are intersected. These valleys, which the +inhabitants call Hollows, run at right angles with the shore, and in the middle +or lowest part of them a road leads from the dwelling-houses to the sea.” +By the <i>word</i> road must not always be understood a visible cart-track. +</p> + +<p> +There were these two roads for us,—an upper and a lower one,—the +bank and the beach; both stretching twenty-eight miles northwest, from Nauset +Harbor to Race Point, without a single opening into the beach, and with hardly +a serious interruption of the desert. If you were to ford the narrow and +shallow inlet at Nauset Harbor, where there is not more than eight feet of +water on the bar at full sea, you might walk ten or twelve miles farther, which +would make a beach forty miles long,—and the bank and beach, on the east +side of Nantucket, are but a continuation of these. I was comparatively +satisfied. There I had got the Cape under me, as much as if I were riding it +bare-backed. It was not as on the map, or seen from the stagecoach; but there I +found it all out of doors, huge and real, Cape Cod! as it cannot be represented +on a map, color it as you will; the thing itself, than which there is nothing +more like it, no truer picture or account; which you cannot go farther and see. +I cannot remember what I thought before that it was. They commonly celebrate +those beaches only which have a hotel on them, not those which have a Humane +house alone. But I wished to see that seashore where man’s works are +wrecks; to put up at the true Atlantic House, where the ocean is land-lord as +well as sea-lord, and comes ashore without a wharf for the landing; where the +crumbling land is the only invalid, or at best is but dry land, and that is all +you can say of it. +</p> + +<p> +We walked on quite at our leisure, now on the beach, now on the +bank,—sitting from time to time on some damp log, maple or yellow birch, +which had long followed the seas, but had now at last settled on land; or under +the lee of a sandhill, on the bank, that we might gaze steadily on the ocean. +The bank was so steep that, where there was no danger of its caving, we sat on +its edge, as on a bench. It was difficult for us landsmen to look out over the +ocean without imagining land in the horizon; yet the clouds appeared to hang +low over it, and rest on the water as they never do on the land, perhaps on +account of the great distance to which we saw. The sand was not without +advantage, for, though it was “heavy” walking in it, it was soft to +the feet; and, notwithstanding that it had been raining nearly two days, when +it held up for half an hour, the sides of the sand-hills, which were porous and +sliding, afforded a dry seat. All the aspects of this desert are beautiful, +whether you behold it in fair weather or foul, or when the sun is just breaking +out after a storm, and shining on its moist surface in the distance, it is so +white, and pure, and level, and each slight inequality and track is so +distinctly revealed; and when your eyes slide off this, they fall on the ocean. +In summer the mackerel gulls—which here have their nests among the +neighboring sand-hills—pursue the traveller anxiously, now and then +diving close to his head with a squeak, and he may see them, like swallows, +chase some crow which has been feeding on the beach, almost across the Cape. +</p> + +<p> +Though for some time I have not spoken of the roaring of the breakers, and the +ceaseless flux and reflux of the waves, yet they did not for a moment cease to +dash and roar, with such a tumult that if you had been there, you could +scarcely have heard my voice the while; and they are dashing and roaring this +very moment, though it may be with less din and violence, for there the sea +never rests. We were wholly absorbed by this spectacle and tumult, and like +Chryses, though in a different mood from him, we walked silent along the shore +of the resounding sea, +</p> + +<p class="center"> +Βῆ δ’ ἀκέων +παρὰ θῖνα +πολυφλοίσβοιο +θαλάσσης.<a href="#linknote-4" +name="linknoteref-4"><sup>[1]</sup></a> +</p> + +<p> +I put in a little Greek now and then, partly because it sounds so much like the +ocean,—though I doubt if Homer’s <i>Mediterranean</i> Sea ever +sounded so loud as this. +</p> + +<p> +The attention of those who frequent the camp-meetings at Eastham is said to be +divided between the preaching of the Methodists and the preaching of the +billows on the back-side of the Cape, for they all stream over here in the +course of their stay. I trust that in this case the loudest voice carries it. +With what effect may we suppose the ocean to say, “My hearers!” to +the multitude on the bank! On that side some John N. Maffit; on this, the +Reverend Poluphloisboios Thalassa. +</p> + +<p> +There was but little weed cast up here, and that kelp chiefly, there being +scarcely a rock for rockweed to adhere to. Who has not had a vision from some +vessel’s deck, when he had still his land-legs on, of this great brown +apron, drifting half upright, and quite submerged through the green water, +clasping a stone or a deep-sea mussel in its unearthly fingers? I have seen it +carrying a stone half as large as my head. We sometimes watched a mass of this +cable-like weed, as it was tossed up on the crest of a breaker, waiting with +interest to see it come in, as if there were some treasure buoyed up by it; but +we were always surprised and disappointed at the insignificance of the mass +which had attracted us. As we looked out over the water, the smallest objects +floating on it appeared indefinitely large, we were so impressed by the +vastness of the ocean, and each one bore so large a proportion to the whole +ocean, which we saw. We were so often disappointed in the size of such things +as came ashore, the ridiculous bits of wood or weed, with which the ocean +labored, that we began to doubt whether the Atlantic itself would bear a still +closer inspection, and wold not turn out to be a but small pond, if it should +come ashore to us. This kelp, oar-weed, tangle, devils-apron, sole-leather, or +ribbon-weed,—as various species are called,—appeared to us a +singularly marine and fabulous product, a lit invention for Neptune to adorn +his car with, or a freak of Proteus. All that is told of the sea has a fabulous +sound to an inhabitant of the land, and all its products have a certain +fabulous quality, as if they belonged to another planet, from sea-weed to a +sailor’s yarn, or a fish-story. In this element the animal and vegetable +kingdoms meet and are strangely mingled. One species of kelp, according to Bory +St. Vincent, has a stem fifteen hundred feet long, and hence is the longest +vegetable known, and a brig’s crew spent two days to no purpose +collecting the trunks of another kind cast ashore on the Falkland Islands, +mistaking it for drift-wood. (See Harvey on <i>Algæ</i>) This species looked +almost edible; at least, I thought that if I were starving I would try it. One +sailor told me that the cows ate it. It cut like cheese: for I took the +earliest opportunity to sit down and deliberately whittle up a fathom or two of +it, that I might become more intimately acquainted with it, see how it cut, and +if it were hollow all the way through. The blade looked like a broad belt, +whose edges had been quilled, or as if stretched by hammering, and it was also +twisted spirally. The extremity was generally worn and ragged from the lashing +of the waves. A piece of the stem which I carried home shrunk to one quarter of +its size a week afterward, and was completely covered with crystals of salt +like frost. The reader will excuse my greenness,—though it is not +sea-greenness, like his, perchance,—for I live by a river-shore, where +this weed does not wash up. When we consider in what meadows it grew. and how +it was raked, and in what kind of hay weather got in or out, we may well be +curious about it. One who is weatherwise has given the following account of the +matter. +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +“When descends on the Atlantic<br/> + The gigantic<br/> + Storm-wind of the equinox,<br/> +Landward in his wrath he scourges<br/> + The toiling surges,<br/> +Laden with sea-weed from the rocks.<br/> +<br/> +“From Bermuda’s reefs, from edges<br/> + Of sunken ledges,<br/> + On some far-off bright Azore;<br/> +From Bahama and the dashing,<br/> + Silver-flashing<br/> +Surges of San Salvador;<br/> +<br/> +“From the trembling surf that buries<br/> + The Orkneyan Skerries.<br/> + Answering the hoarse Hebrides;<br/> +And from wrecks and ships and drifting<br/> + Spars, uplifting<br/> +On the desolate rainy seas;<br/> +<br/> +“Ever drifting, drifting, drifting<br/> +On the shifting<br/> +Currents of the restless main.” +</p> + +<p class="noindent">But he was not thinking of this shore, when he added:— +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +“Till, in sheltered coves and reaches<br/> + Of sandy beaches,<br/> +All have found repose again.” +</p> + +<p> +<i>These</i> weeds were the symbols of those grotesque and fabulous thoughts +which have not yet got into the sheltered coves of literature. +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +“Ever drifting, drifting, drifting<br/> + On the shifting<br/> + Currents of the restless heart,”<br/> +<i>And not yet</i> “in books recorded<br/> + They, like hoarded<br/> +Household words, no more depart.” +</p> + +<p> +The beach was also strewn with beautiful sea-jellies, which the wreckers called +Sun-squall, one of the lowest forms of animal life, some white, some +wine-colored, and a foot in diameter. I at first thought that they were a +tender part of some marine monster, which the storm or some other foe had +mangled. What right has the sea to bear in its bosom such tender things as +sea-jellies and mosses, when it has such a boisterous shore that the stoutest +fabrics are wrecked against it? Strange that it should undertake to dandle such +delicate children in its arm. I did not at first recognize these for the same +which I had formerly seen in myriads in Boston Harbor, rising, with a waving +motion, to the surface, as if to meet the sun, and discoloring the waters far +and wide, so that I seemed to be sailing through a mere sunfish soup. They say +that when you endeavor to take one up, it will spill out the other side of your +hand like quicksilver. Before the land rose out of the ocean, and became +<i>dry</i> land, chaos reigned; and between high and low water mark, where she +is partially disrobed and rising, a sort of chaos reigns still, which only +anomalous creatures can inhabit. Mackerel-gulls were all the while flying over +our heads and amid the breakers, sometimes two white ones pursuing a black one; +quite at home in the storm, though they are as delicate organizations as +sea-jellies and mosses; and we saw that they were adapted to their +circumstances rather by their spirits than their bodies. Theirs must be an +essentially wilder, that is, less human, nature than that of larks and robins. +Their note was like the sound of some vibrating metal, and harmonized well with +the scenery and the roar of the surf, as if one had rudely touched the strings +of the lyre, which ever lies on the shore; a ragged shred of ocean music tossed +aloft on the spray. But if I were required to name a sound the remembrance of +which most perfectly revives the impression which the beach has made, it would +be the dreary peep of the piping plover (<i>Charadrius melodus</i>) which +haunts there. Their voices, too, are heard as a fugacious part in the dirge +which is ever played along the shore for those mariners who have been lost in +the deep since first it was created. But through all this dreariness we seemed +to have a pure and unqualified strain of eternal melody, for always the same +strain which is a dirge to one household is a morning song of rejoicing to +another. +</p> + +<p> +A remarkable method of catching gulls, derived from the Indians, was practised +in Wellfleet in 1794. “The Gull House,” it is said, “is built +with crotchets, fixed in the ground on the beach,” poles being stretched +across for the top, and the sides made close with stakes and seaweed. +“The poles on the top are covered with lean whale. The man being placed +within, is not discovered by the fowls, and while they are contending for and +eating the flesh, he draws them in, one by one, between the poles, until he has +collected forty or fifty.” Hence, perchance, a man is said to be +<i>gulled</i>, when he is <i>taken in</i>. We read that one “sort of +gulls is called by the Dutch <i>mallemucke, i.e.</i> the foolish fly, because +they fall upon a whale as eagerly as a fly, and, indeed, all gulls are +foolishly bold and easy to be shot. The Norwegians call this bird +<i>havhest</i>, sea-horse (and the English translator says, it is probably what +we call boobies). If they have eaten too much, they throw it up, and eat it +again till they are tired. It is this habit in the gulls of parting with their +property [disgorging the contents of their stomachs to the skuas], which has +given rise to the terms gull, guller, and gulling, among men.” We also +read that they used to kill small birds which roosted on the beach at night, by +making a fire with hog’s lard in a frying-pan. The Indians probably used +pine torches; the birds flocked to the light, and were knocked down with a +stick. We noticed holes dug near the edge of the bank, where gunners conceal +themselves to shoot the large gulls which coast up and down a-fishing, for +these are considered good to eat. +</p> + +<p> +We found some large clams of the species <i>Mactra solidissima</i>, which the +storm had torn up from the bottom, and cast ashore. I selected one of the +largest, about six inches in length, and carried it along, thinking to try an +experiment on it. We soon after met a wrecker, with a grapple and a rope, who +said that he was looking for tow cloth, which had made part of the cargo of the +ship <i>Franklin</i>, which was wrecked here in the spring, at which time nine +or ten lives were lost. The reader may remember this wreck, from the +circumstance that a letter was found in the captain’s valise, which +washed ashore, directing him to wreck the vessel before he got to America, and +from the trial which took place in consequence. The wrecker said that tow cloth +was still cast up in such storms as this. He also told us that the clam which I +had was the sea-clam, or hen, and was good to eat. We took our nooning under a +sand-hill, covered with beach-grass, in a dreary little hollow, on the top of +the bank, while it alternately rained and shined. There, having reduced some +damp drift-wood, which I had picked up on the shore, to shavings with my knife, +I kindled a fire with a match and some paper and cooked my clam on the embers +for my dinner; for breakfast was commonly the only meal which I took in a house +on this excursion. When the clam was done, one valve held the meat and the +other the liquor. Though it was very tough, I found it sweet and savory, and +ate <i>the whole</i> with a relish. Indeed, with the addition of a cracker or +two, it would have been a bountiful dinner. I noticed that the shells were such +as I had seen in the sugar-kit at home. Tied to a stick, they formerly made the +Indian’s hoe hereabouts. +</p> + +<p> +At length, by mid-afternoon, after we had had two or three rainbows over the +sea, the showers ceased, and the heavens gradually cleared up, though the wind +still blowed as hard and the breakers ran as high as before. Keeping on, we +soon after came to a Charity-house, which we looked into to see how the +shipwrecked mariner might fare. Far away in some desolate hollow by the +sea-side, just within the bank, stands a lonely building on piles driven into +the sand, with a slight nail put through the staple, which a freezing man can +bend, with some straw, perchance, on the floor on which he may lie, or which he +may burn in the fireplace to keep him alive. Perhaps this hut has never been +required to shelter a ship-wrecked man, and the benevolent person who promised +to inspect it annually, to see that the straw and matches are here, and that +the boards will keep off the wind, has grown remiss and thinks that storms and +shipwrecks are over; and this very night a perishing crew may pry open its door +with their numbed fingers and leave half their number dead here by morning. +When I thought what must be the condition of the families which alone would +ever occupy or had occupied them, what must have been the tragedy of the winter +evenings spent by human beings around their hearths, these houses, though they +were meant for human dwellings, did not look cheerful to me. They appeared but +a stage to the grave. The gulls flew around and screamed over them; the roar of +the ocean in storms, and the lapse of its waves in calms, alone resounds +through them, all dark and empty within, year in, year out, except, perchance, +on one memorable night. Houses of entertainment for shipwrecked men! What kind +of sailors’ homes were they? +</p> + +<div class="fig" style="width: 500px;"> +<a name="illus11"></a> +<img src="images/wreckage.jpg" width="500" height="333" alt="Wreckage under the sand-bluff" title="" /> +<p class="caption">Wreckage under the sand-bluff</p> +</div> + +<p> +“Each hut,” says the author of the “Description of the +Eastern Coast of the County of Barnstable,” “stands on piles, is +eight feet long, eight feet wide, and seven feet high; a sliding door is on the +south, a sliding shutter on the west, and a pole, rising fifteen feet above the +top of the building, on the east. Within it is supplied either with straw or +hay, and is further accommodated with a bench.” They have varied little +from this model now. There are similar huts at the Isle of Sable and Anticosti, +on the north, and how far south along the coast I know not. It is pathetic to +read the minute and faithful directions which he gives to seamen who may be +wrecked on this coast, to guide them to the nearest Charity-house, or other +shelter, for, as is said of Eastham, though there are a few houses within a +mile of the shore, yet “in a snow-storm, which rages here with excessive +fury, it would be almost impossible to discover them either by night or by +day.” You hear their imaginary guide thus marshalling, cheering, +directing the dripping, shivering, freezing troop along; “at the entrance +of this valley the sand has gathered, so that at present a little climbing is +necessary. Passing over several fences and taking heed not to enter the wood on +the right hand, at the distance of three-quarters of a mile a house is to be +found. This house stands on the south side of the road, and not far from it on +the south is Pamet River, which runs from east to west through body of salt +marsh.” To him cast ashore in Eastham, he says, “The meeting-house +is without a steeple, but it may be distinguished from the dwelling-houses near +it by its situation, which is between two small groves of locusts, one on the +south and one on the north,—that on the south being three times as long +as the other. About a mile and a quarter from the hut, west by north, appear +the top and arms of a windmill.” And so on for many pages. +</p> + +<p> +We did not learn whether these houses had been the means of saving any lives, +though this writer says, of one erected at the head of Stout’s Creek in +Truro, that “it was built in an improper manner, having a chimney in it; +and was placed on a spot where no beach-grass grew. The strong winds blew the +sand from its foundation and the weight of the chimney brought it to the +ground; so that in January of the present year [1802] it was entirely +demolished. This event took place about six weeks before the <i>Brutus</i> was +cast away. If it had remained, it is probable that the whole of the unfortunate +crew of that ship would have been saved, as they gained the shore a few rods +only from the spot where the hut had stood.” +</p> + +<p> +This “Charity-house,” as the wrecker called it, this +“Humane-house,” as some call it, that is, the one to which we first +came, had neither window nor sliding shutter, nor clapboards, nor paint. As we +have said, there was a rusty nail put through the staple. However, as we wished +to get an idea of a Humane house, and we hoped that we should never have a +better opportunity, we put our eyes, by turns, to a knot-hole in the door, and +after long looking, without seeing, into the dark,—not knowing how many +shipwrecked men’s bones we might see at last, looking with the eye of +faith, knowing that, though to him that knocketh it may not always be opened, +yet to him that looketh long enough through a knot-hole the inside shall be +visible,—for we had had some practice at looking inward,—by +steadily keeping our other ball covered from the light meanwhile, putting the +outward world behind us, ocean and land, and the beach,—till the pupil +became enlarged and collected the rays of light that were wandering in that +dark (for the pupil shall be enlarged by looking; there never was so dark a +night but a faithful and patient eye, however small, might at last prevail over +it),—after all this, I say, things began to take shape to our +vision,—if we may use this expression where there was nothing but +emptiness,—and we obtained the long-wished-for insight. Though we thought +at first that it was a hopeless case, after several minutes’ steady +exercise of the divine faculty, our prospects began decidedly to brighten, and +we were ready to exclaim with the blind bard of “Paradise Lost and +Regained,”— +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +“Hail, holy Light! offspring of Heaven first born,<br/> +Or of the Eternal co-eternal beam.<br/> +May I express thee unblamed?” +</p> + +<p> +A little longer, and a chimney rushed red on our sight. In short, when our +vision had grown familiar with the darkness, we discovered that there were some +stones and some loose wads of wool on the floor, and an empty fireplace at the +further end; but it <i>was not</i> supplied with matches, or straw, or hay, +that we could see, nor “accommodated with a bench.” Indeed, it was +the wreck of all cosmical beauty there within. +</p> + +<p> +Turning our backs on the outward world, we thus looked through the knot-hole +into the Humane house, into the very bowels of mercy; and for bread we found a +stone. It was literally a great cry (of sea-mews outside), and a little wool. +However, we were glad to sit outside, under the lee of the Humane house, to +escape the piercing wind; and there we thought how cold is charity! how +inhumane humanity! This, then, is what charity hides! Virtues antique and far +away with ever a rusty nail over the latch; and very difficult to keep in +repair, withal, it is so uncertain whether any will ever gain the beach near +you. So we shivered round about, not being able to get into it, ever and anon +looking through the knot-hole into that night without a star, until we +concluded that it was not a <i>humane</i> house at all, but a sea-side box, now +shut up. belonging to some of the family of Night or Chaos, where they spent +their summers by the sea, for the sake of the sea breeze, and that it was not +proper for us to be prying into their concerns. +</p> + +<p> +My companion had declared before this that I had not a particle of sentiment, +in rather absolute terms, to my astonishment; but I suspect he meant that my +legs did not ache just then, though I am not wholly a stranger to that +sentiment. But I did not intend this for a sentimental journey. +</p> + +<div class="fig" style="width: 500px;"> +<a name="illus12"></a> +<img src="images/herringriver.jpg" width="500" height="355" alt="Herring River at Wellfleet" title="" /> +<p class="caption">Herring River at Wellfleet</p> +</div> + +<p class="footnote"> +<a name="linknote-4" id="linknote-4"></a> <a href="#linknoteref-4">[1]</a> +We have no word in English to express the sound of many waves, dashing at +once, whether gently or violently, +πολυφλοίσβοιος +to the ear, and, in the ocean’s gentle moods, an +ἀνάριθμον +γέλασμα to the eye. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap05"></a>V<br/> +THE WELLFLEET OYSTERMAN</h2> + +<p> +Having walked about eight miles since we struck the beach, and passed the +boundary between Wellfleet and Truro, a stone post in the sand,—for even +this sand comes under the jurisdiction of one town or another,—we turned +inland over barren hills and valleys, whither the sea, for some reason, did not +follow us, and, tracing up a Hollow, discovered two or three sober-looking +houses within half a mile, uncommonly near the eastern coast. Their garrets +were apparently so full of chambers, that their roofs could hardly lie down +straight, and we did not doubt that there was room for us there. Houses near +the sea are generally low and broad. These were a story and a half high; but if +you merely counted the windows in their gable-ends, you would think that there +were many stories more, or, at any rate, that the half-story was the only one +thought worthy of being illustrated. The great number of windows in the ends of +the houses, and their irregularity in size and position, here and elsewhere on +the Cape, struck us agreeably,—as if each of the various occupants who +had their <i>cunabula</i> behind had punched a hole where his necessities +required it, and, according to his size and stature, without regard to outside +effect. There were windows for the grown folks, and windows for the +children,—three or four apiece; as a certain man had a large hole cut in +his barn-door for the cat, and another smaller one for the kitten. Sometimes +they were so low under the eaves that I thought they must have perforated the +plate beam for another apartment, and I noticed some which were triangular, to +fit that part more exactly. The ends of the houses had thus as many muzzles as +a revolver, and, if the inhabitants have the same habit of staring out the +windows that some of our neighbors have, a traveller must stand a small chance +with them. +</p> + +<p> +Generally, the old-fashioned and unpainted houses on the Cape looked more +comfortable, as well as picturesque, than the modern and more pretending ones, +which were less in harmony with the scenery, and less firmly planted. +</p> + +<div class="fig" style="width: 500px;"> +<a name="illus13"></a> +<img src="images/gables.jpg" width="500" height="336" alt="A characteristic gable with many windows" title="" /> +<p class="caption">A characteristic gable with many windows</p> +</div> + +<p> +These houses were on the shores of a chain of ponds, seven in number, the +source of a small stream called Herring River, which empties into the Bay. +There are many Herring Rivers on the Cape; they will, perhaps, be more numerous +than herrings soon. We knocked at the door of the first house, but its +inhabitants were all gone away. In the meanwhile, we saw the occupants of the +next one looking out the window at us, and before we reached it an old woman +came out and fastened the door of her bulkhead, and went in again. +Nevertheless, we did not hesitate to knock at her door, when a grizzly-looking +man appeared, whom we took to be sixty or seventy years old. He asked us, at +first, suspiciously, where we were from, and what our business was; to which we +returned plain answers. +</p> + +<p> +“How far is Concord from Boston?” he inquired. +</p> + +<p> +“Twenty miles by railroad.” +</p> + +<p> +“Twenty miles by railroad,” he repeated. +</p> + +<p> +“Didn’t you ever hear of Concord of Revolutionary fame?” +</p> + +<p> +“Didn’t I ever hear of Concord? Why, I heard the guns fire at the +battle of Bunker Hill. [They hear the sound of heavy cannon across the Bay.] I +am almost ninety; I am eighty-eight year old. I was fourteen year old at the +time of Concord Fight,—and where were you then?” +</p> + +<p> +We were obliged to confess that we were not in the fight. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, walk in, we’ll leave it to the women,” said he. +</p> + +<p> +So we walked in, surprised, and sat down, an old woman taking our hats and +bundles, and the old man continued, drawing up to the large, old-fashioned +fireplace,— +</p> + +<p> +“I am a poor good-for-nothing crittur, as Isaiah says; I am all broken +down this year. I am under petticoat government here.” +</p> + +<p> +The family consisted of the old man, his wife, and his daughter, who appeared +nearly as old as her mother, a fool, her son (a brutish-looking, middle-aged +man, with a prominent lower face, who was standing by the hearth when we +entered, but immediately went out), and a little boy of ten. +</p> + +<p> +While my companion talked with the women, I talked with the old man. They said +that he was old and foolish, but he was evidently too knowing for them. +</p> + +<p> +“These women,” said he to me, “are both of them poor +good-for-nothing critturs. This one is my wife. I married her sixty-four years +ago. She is eighty-four years old, and as deaf as an adder, and the other is +not much better.” +</p> + +<p> +He thought well of the Bible, or at least he <i>spoke</i> well, and did not +<i>think</i> ill, of it, for that would not have been prudent for a man of his +age. He said that he had read it attentively for many years, and he had much of +it at his tongue’s end. He seemed deeply impressed with a sense of his +own nothingness, and would repeatedly exclaim,— +</p> + +<p> +“I am a nothing. What I gather from my Bible is just this: that man is a +poor good-for-nothing crittur, and everything is just as God sees fit and +disposes.” +</p> + +<p> +“May I ask your name?” I said. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” he answered, “I am not ashamed to tell my name. My +name is——. My great-grandfather came over from England and settled +here.” +</p> + +<p> +He was an old Wellfleet oysterman, who had acquired a competency in that +business, and had sons still engaged in it. +</p> + +<p> +Nearly all the oyster shops and stands in Massachusetts, I am told, are +supplied and kept by natives of Wellfleet, and a part of this town is still +called Billingsgate from the oysters having been formerly planted there; but +the native oysters are said to have died in 1770. Various causes are assigned +for this, such as a ground frost, the carcasses of blackfish kept to rot in the +harbor, and the like, but the most common account of the matter is,—and I +find that a similar superstition with regard to the disappearance of fishes +exists almost everywhere,—that when Wellfleet began to quarrel with the +neighboring towns about the right to gather them, yellow specks appeared in +them, and Providence caused them to disappear. A few years ago sixty thousand +bushels were annually brought from the South and planted in the harbor of +Wellfleet till they attained “the proper relish of Billingsgate”; +but now they are imported commonly full-grown, and laid down near their +markets, at Boston and elsewhere, where the water, being a mixture of salt and +fresh, suits them better. The business was said to be still good and improving. +</p> + +<p> +The old man said that the oysters were liable to freeze in the winter, if +planted too high; but if it were not “so cold as to strain their +eyes” they were not injured. The inhabitants of New Brunswick have +noticed that “ice will not form over an oyster-bed, unless the cold is +very intense indeed, and when the bays are frozen over the oyster-beds are +easily discovered by the water above them remaining unfrozen, or as the French +residents say, <i>degèle</i>.” Our host said that they kept them +in cellars all winter. +</p> + +<p> +“Without anything to eat or drink?” I asked. +</p> + +<p> +“Without anything to eat or drink,” he answered. +</p> + +<p> +“Can the oysters move?” +</p> + +<p> +“Just as much as my shoe.” +</p> + +<div class="fig" style="width: 292px;"> +<a name="illus14"></a> +<img src="images/oysterman.jpg" width="292" height="450" alt="A Welfleet oysterman" title="" /> +<p class="caption">A Welfleet oysterman</p> +</div> + +<p> +But when I caught him saying that they “bedded themselves down in the +sand, flat side up, round side down,” I told him that my shoe could not +do that, without the aid of my foot in it; at which he said that they merely +settled down as they grew; if put down in a square they would be found so; but +the clam could move quite fast. I have since been told by oystermen of Long +Island, where the oyster is still indigenous and abundant, that they are found +in large masses attached to the parent in their midst, and are so taken up with +their tongs; in which case, they say, the age of the young proves that there +could have been no motion for five or six years at least. And Buckland in his +Curiosities of Natural History (page 50) says: “An oyster who has once +taken up his position and fixed himself when quite young can never make a +change. Oysters, nevertheless, that have not fixed themselves, but remain loose +at the bottom of the sea, have the power of locomotion; they open their shells +to their fullest extent, and then suddenly contracting them, the expulsion of +the water forwards gives a motion backwards. A fisherman at Guernsey told me +that he had frequently seen oysters moving in this way.” +</p> + +<p> +Some still entertain the question “whether the oyster was indigenous in +Massachusetts Bay,” and whether Wellfleet harbor was a “natural +habitat” of this fish; but, to say nothing of the testimony of old +oystermen, which, I think, is quite conclusive, though the native oyster may +now be extinct there, I saw that their shells, opened by the Indians, were +strewn all over the Cape. Indeed, the Cape was at first thickly settled by +Indians on account of the abundance of these and other fish. We saw many traces +of their occupancy after this, in Truro, near Great Hollow, and at High-Head, +near East Harbor River,—oysters, clams, cockles, and other shells, +mingled with ashes and the bones of deer and other quadrupeds. I picked up half +a dozen arrow-heads, and in an hour or two could have filled my pockets with +them. The Indians lived about the edges of the swamps, then probably in some +instances ponds, for shelter and water. Moreover, Champlain in the edition of +his “Voyages” printed in 1613, says that in the year 1606 he and +Poitrincourt explored a harbor (Barnstable Harbor?) in the southerly part of +what is now called Massachusetts Bay, in latitude 42°, about five leagues +south, one point west of <i>Cap Blanc</i> (Cape Cod), and there they found many +good oysters, and they named it “<i>le Port aux Huistres</i>” +(Oyster Harbor). In one edition of his map (1632), the <i>“R. aux +Escailles</i>” is drawn emptying into the same part of the bay, and on +the map “<i>Novi Belgii</i>,” in Ogilby’s +“America” (1670), the words “<i>Port aux Huistres</i>” +are placed against the same place. Also William Wood, who left New England in +1633, speaks, in his “New England’s Prospect,” published in +1634, of “a great oyster-bank” in Charles River, and of another in +the Mistick, each of which obstructed the navigation of its river. “The +oysters,” says he, “be great ones in form of a shoehorn; some be a +foot long; these breed on certain banks that are bare every spring tide. This +fish without the shell is so big, that it must admit of a division before you +can well get it into your mouth.” Oysters are still found there. (Also, +see Thomas Morton’s “New English Canaan,” page 90.) +</p> + +<p> +Our host told us that the sea-clam, or hen, was not easily obtained; it was +raked up, but never on the Atlantic side, only cast ashore there in small +quantities in storms. The fisherman sometimes wades in water several feet deep, +and thrusts a pointed stick into the sand before him. When this enters between +the valves of a clam, he closes them on it, and is drawn out. It has been known +to catch and hold coot and teal which were preying on it. I chanced to be on +the bank of the Acushnet at New Bedford one day since this, watching some +ducks, when a man informed me that, having let out his young ducks to seek +their food amid the samphire (<i>Salicornia</i>) and other weeds along the +river-side at low tide that morning, at length he noticed that one remained +stationary, amid the weeds, something preventing it from following the others, +and going to it he found its foot tightly shut in a quahog’s shell. He +took up both together, carried them to his home, and his wife opening the shell +with a knife released the duck and cooked the quahog. The old man said that the +great clams were good to eat, but that they always took out a certain part +which was poisonous, before they cooked them. “People said it would kill +a cat.” I did not tell him that I had eaten a large one entire that +afternoon, but began to think that I was tougher than a cat. He stated that +pedlers came round there, and sometimes tried to sell the women folks a +skimmer, but he told them that their women had got a better skimmer than +<i>they</i> could make, in the shell of their clams; it was shaped just right +for this purpose.—They call them “skim-alls” in some places. +He also said that the sun-squall was poisonous to handle, and when the sailors +came across it, they did not meddle with it, but heaved it out of their way. I +told him that I had handled it that afternoon, and had felt no ill effects as +yet. But he said it made the hands itch, especially if they had previously been +scratched, or if I put it into my bosom I should find out what it was. +</p> + +<p> +He informed us that no ice ever formed on the back side of the Cape, or not +more than once in a century, and but little snow lay there, it being either +absorbed or blown or washed away. Sometimes in winter, when the tide was down, +the beach was frozen, and afforded a hard road up the back side for some thirty +miles, as smooth as a floor. One winter when he was a boy, he and his father +“took right out into the back side before daylight, and walked to +Provincetown and back to dinner.” +</p> + +<p> +When I asked what they did with all that barren-looking land, where I saw so +few cultivated fields,—“Nothing,” he said. +</p> + +<p> +“Then why fence your fields?” +</p> + +<p> +“To keep the sand from blowing and covering up the whole.” +</p> + +<p> +“The yellow sand,” said he, “has some life in it, but the +white little or none.” +</p> + +<p> +When, in answer to his questions, I told him that I was a surveyor, he said +that they who surveyed his farm were accustomed, where the ground was uneven, +to loop up each chain as high as their elbows; that was the allowance they +made, and he wished to know if I could tell him why they did not come out +according to his deed, or twice alike. He seemed to have more respect for +surveyors of the old school, which I did not wonder at. “King George the +Third,” said he, “laid out a road four rods wide and straight the +whole length of the Cape,” but where it was now he could not tell. +</p> + +<p> +This story of the surveyors reminded me of a Long-Islander, who once, when I +had made ready to jump from the bow of his boat to the shore, and he thought +that I underrated the distance and would fall short,—though I found +afterward that he judged of the elasticity of my joints by his own,—told +me that when he came to a brook which he wanted to get over, he held up one +leg, and then, if his foot appeared to cover any part of the opposite bank, he +knew that he could jump it. “Why,” I told him, “to say +nothing of the Mississippi, and other small watery streams, I could blot out a +star with my foot, but I would not engage to jump that distance,” and +asked how he knew when he had got his leg at the right elevation. But he +regarded his legs as no less accurate than a pair of screw dividers or an +ordinary quadrant, and appeared to have a painful recollection of every degree +and minute in the arc which they described; and he would have had me believe +that there was a kind of hitch in his hip-joint which answered the purpose. I +suggested that he should connect his two ankles by a string of the proper +length, which should be the chord of an arc, measuring his jumping ability on +horizontal surfaces,—assuming one leg to be a perpendicular to the plane +of the horizon, which, however, may have been too bold an assumption in this +case. Nevertheless, this was a kind of geometry in the legs which it interested +me to hear of. +</p> + +<p> +Our host took pleasure in telling us the names of the ponds, most of which we +could see from his windows, and making us repeat them after him, to see if we +had got them right. They were Gull Pond, the largest and a very handsome one, +clear and deep, and more than a mile in circumference, Newcomb’s, +Swett’s, Slough, Horse-Leech, Round, and Herring Ponds, all connected at +high water, if I do not mistake. The coast-surveyors had come to him for their +names, and he told them of one which they had not detected. He said that they +were not so high as formerly. There was an earthquake about four years before +he was born, which cracked the pans of the ponds, which were of iron, and +caused them to settle. I did not remember to have read of this. Innumerable +gulls used to resort to them; but the large gulls were now very scarce, for, as +he said, the English robbed their nests far in the north, where they breed. He +remembered well when gulls were taken in the gull-house, and when small birds +were killed by means of a frying-pan and fire at night. His father once lost a +valuable horse from this cause. A party from Wellfleet having lighted their +fire for this purpose, one dark night, on Billingsgate Island, twenty horses +which were pastured there, and this colt among them, being frightened by it, +and endeavoring in the dark to cross the passage which separated them from the +neighboring beach, and which was then fordable at low tide, were all swept out +to sea and drowned. I ob-served that many horses were still turned out to +pasture all summer on the islands and beaches in Wellfleet, Eastham, and +Orleans, as a kind of common. He also described the killing of what he called +“wild hens” here, after they had gone to roost in the woods, when +he was a boy. Perhaps they were “Prairie hens” (pinnated grouse). +</p> + +<p> +He liked the Beach-pea (<i>Lathyrus maritimus</i>), cooked green, as well as +the cultivated. He had seen it growing very abundantly in Newfoundland, where +also the inhabitants ate them, but he had never been able to obtain any ripe +for seed. We read, under the head of Chatham, that “in 1555, during a +time of great scarcity, the people about Orford, in Sussex (England) were +preserved from perishing by eating the seeds of this plant, which grew there in +great abundance on the sea-coast. Cows, horses, sheep, and goats eat it.” +But the writer who quoted this could not learn that they had ever been used in +Barnstable County. +</p> + +<p> +He had been a voyager, then? O, he had been about the world in his day. He once +considered himself a pilot for all our coast; but now they had changed the +names so he might be bothered. +</p> + +<p> +He gave us to taste what he called the Summer Sweeting, a pleasant apple which +he raised, and frequently grafted from, but had never seen growing elsewhere, +except once,—three trees on Newfoundland, or at the Bay of Chaleur, I +forget which, as he was sailing by. He was sure that he could tell the tree at +a distance. +</p> + +<p> +At length the fool, whom my companion called the wizard, came in, muttering +between his teeth, “Damn book-pedlers,—all the time talking about +books. Better do something. Damn ’em. I’ll shoot ’em. Got a +doctor down here. Damn him, I’ll get a gun and shoot him”; never +once holding up his head. Whereat the old man stood up and said in a loud +voice, as if he was accustomed to command, and this was not the first time he +had been obliged to exert his authority there: “John, go sit down, mind +your business,—we’ve heard you talk before,—precious little +you’ll do,—your bark is worse than your bite.” But, without +minding, John muttered the same gibberish over again, and then sat down at the +table which the old folks had left. He ate all there was on it, and then turned +to the apples, which his aged mother was paring, that she might give her guests +some apple-sauce for breakfast, but she drew them away and sent him off. +</p> + +<div class="fig" style="width: 313px;"> +<a name="illus15"></a> +<img src="images/welfleet.jpg" width="313" height="450" alt="Welfleet" title="" /> +<p class="caption">Welfleet</p> +</div> + +<p> +When I approached this house the next summer, over the desolate hills between +it and the shore, which are worthy to have been the birthplace of Ossian, I saw +the wizard in the midst of a cornfield on the hillside, but, as usual, he +loomed so strangely, that I mistook him for a scarecrow. +</p> + +<p> +This was the merriest old man that we had ever seen, and one of the best +preserved. His style of conversation was coarse and plain enough to have suited +Rabelais. He would have made a good Panurge. Or rather he was a sober Silenus, +and we were the boys Chromis and Mnasilus, who listened to his story. +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +“Not by Hæmonian hills the Thracian bard.<br/> +Nor awful Phœbus was on Pindus heard<br/> +With deeper silence or with more regard.” +</p> + +<p> +There was a strange mingling of past and present in his conversation, for he +had lived under King George, and might have remembered when Napoleon and the +moderns generally were born. He said that one day, when the troubles between +the Colonies and the mother country first broke out, as he, a boy of fifteen, +was pitching hay out of a cart, one Doane, an old Tory, who was talking with +his father, a good Whig, said to him, “Why, Uncle Bill, you might as well +undertake to pitch that pond into the ocean with a pitchfork, as for the +Colonies to undertake to gain their independence.” He remembered well +General Washington, and how he rode his horse along the streets of Boston, and +he stood up to show us how he looked. +</p> + +<p> +“He was a r—a—ther large and portly-looking man, a manly and +resolute-looking officer, with a pretty good leg as he sat on his +horse.”—“There, I’ll tell you, this was the way with +Washington.” Then he jumped up again, and bowed gracefully to right and +left, making show as if he were waving his hat. Said he, <i>“That</i> was +Washington.” +</p> + +<p> +He told us many anecdotes of the Revolution, and was much pleased when we told +him that we had read the same in history, and that his account agreed with the +written. +</p> + +<p> +“O,” he said, “I know, I know! I was a young fellow of +sixteen, with my ears wide open; and a fellow of that age, you know, is pretty +wide awake, and likes to know everything that’s going on. O, I +know!” +</p> + +<p> +He told us the story of the wreck of the <i>Franklin</i>, which took place +there the previous spring: how a boy came to his house early in the morning to +know whose boat that was by the shore, for there was a vessel in distress, and +he, being an old man, first ate his breakfast, and then walked over to the top +of the hill by the shore, and sat down there, having found a comfortable seat, +to see the ship wrecked. She was on the bar, only a quarter of a mile from him, +and still nearer to the men on the beach, who had got a boat ready, but could +render no assistance on account of the breakers, for there was a pretty high +sea running. There were the passengers all crowded together in the forward part +of the ship, and some were getting out of the cabin windows and were drawn on +deck by the others. +</p> + +<p> +“I saw the captain get out his boat,” said he; “he had one +little one; and then they jumped into it one after another, down as straight as +an arrow. I counted them. There were nine. One was a woman, and she jumped as +straight as any of them. Then they shoved off. The sea took them back, one wave +went over them, and when they came up there were six still clinging to the +boat; I counted them. The next wave turned the boat bottom upward, and emptied +them all out. None of them ever came ashore alive. There were the rest of them +all crowded together on the forecastle, the other parts of the ship being under +water. They had seen all that happened to the boat. At length a heavy sea +separated the forecastle from the rest of the wreck, and set it inside of the +worst breaker, and the boat was able to reach them, and it saved all that were +left, but one woman.” +</p> + +<p> +He also told us of the steamer <i>Cambria’s</i> getting aground on his +shore a few months before we were there, and of her English passengers who +roamed over his grounds, and who, he said, thought the prospect from the high +hill by the shore “the most delightsome they had ever seen,” and +also of the pranks which the ladies played with his scoop-net in the ponds. He +spoke of these travellers with their purses full of guineas, just as our +provincial fathers used to speak of British bloods in the time of King George +the Third. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Quid loquar?</i> Why repeat what he told us? +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +“Aut Scyllam Nisi, quam fama secuta est,<br/> +Candida succinctam latrantibus inguina monstris,<br/> +Dulichias vexâsse rates, et gurgite in alto<br/> +Ah timidos nautas canibus lacerâsse marinis?” +</p> + +<p> +In the course of the evening I began to feel the potency of the clam which I +had eaten, and I was obliged to confess to our host that I was no tougher than +the cat he told of; but he answered, that he was a plain-spoken man, and he +could tell me that it was all imagination. At any rate, it proved an emetic in +my case, and I was made quite sick by it for a short time, while he laughed at +my expense. I was pleased to read afterward, in Mourt’s Relation of the +landing of the Pilgrims in Provincetown Harbor, these words: “We found +great muscles (the old editor says that they were undoubtedly sea-clams) and +very fat and full of sea-pearl; but we could not eat them, for they made us all +sick that did eat, as well sailors as passengers, ... but they were soon well +again.” It brought me nearer to the Pilgrims to be thus reminded by a +similar experience that I was so like them. Moreover, it was a valuable +confirmation of their story, and I am prepared now to believe every word of +Mourt’s Relation. I was also pleased to find that man and the clam lay +still at the same angle to one another. But I did not notice sea-pearl. Like +Cleopatra, I must have swallowed it. I have since dug these clams on a flat in +the Bay and observed them. They could squirt full ten feet before the wind, as +appeared by the marks of the drops on the sand. +</p> + +<p> +“Now I’m going to ask you a question,” said the old man, +“and I don’t know as you can tell me; but you are a learned man, +and I never had any learning, only what I got by natur.”—It was in +vain that we reminded him that he could quote Josephus to our +confusion.—“I’ve thought, if I ever met a learned man I +should like to ask him this question. Can you tell me how <i>Axy</i> is spelt, +and what it means? <i>Axy</i>,” says he; “there’s a girl over +here is named <i>Axy</i>. Now what is it? What does it mean? Is it Scripture? +I’ve read my Bible twenty-five years over and over, and I never came +across it.” +</p> + +<p> +“Did you read it twenty-five years for this object.’” I +asked. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, <i>how</i> is it spelt? Wife, how is it spelt?” She said: +“It is in the Bible; I’ve seen it.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, how do you spell it?” +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t know. A c h, ach, s e h, seh,—Achseh.” +</p> + +<p> +“Does that spell Axy? Well, do <i>you</i> know what it means?” +asked he, turning to me. +</p> + +<p> +“No,” I replied, “I never heard the sound before.” +</p> + +<p> +“There was a schoolmaster down here once, and they asked him what it +meant, and he said it had no more meaning than a bean-pole.” +</p> + +<p> +I told him that I held the same opinion with the schoolmaster. I had been a +schoolmaster myself, and had had strange names to deal with. I also heard of +such names as Zoleth, Beriah, Amaziah, Bethuel, and Shearjashub, hereabouts. +</p> + +<p> +At length the little boy, who had a seat quite in the chimney-corner, took off +his stockings and shoes, warmed his feet, and having had his sore leg freshly +salved, went off to bed; then the fool made bare his knotty-looking feet and +legs, and followed him; and finally the old man exposed his calves also to our +gaze. We had never had the good fortune to see an old man’s legs before, +and were surprised to find them fair and plump as an infant’s, and we +thought that he took a pride in exhibiting them. He then proceeded to make +preparations for retiring, discoursing meanwhile with Panurgic plainness of +speech on the ills to which old humanity is subject. We were a rare haul for +him. He could commonly get none but ministers to talk to, though sometimes ten +of them at once, and he was glad to meet some of the laity at leisure. The +evening was not long enough for him. As I had been sick, the old lady asked if +I would not go to bed,—it was getting late for old people; but the old +man, who had not yet done his stories, said, “You ain’t particular, +are you?” +</p> + +<p> +“O, no,” said I, “I am in no hurry. I believe I have +weathered the Clam cape.” +</p> + +<p> +“They are good,” said he; “I wish I had some of them +now.” +</p> + +<p> +“They never hurt me,” said the old lady. +</p> + +<p> +“But then you took out the part that killed a cat,” said I. +</p> + +<p> +At last we cut him short in the midst of his stories, which he promised to +resume in the morning. Yet, after all, one of the old ladies who came into our +room in the night to fasten the fire-board, which rattled, as she went out took +the precaution to fasten us in. Old women are by nature more suspicious than +old men. However, the winds howled around the house, and made the fire-boards +as well as the casements rattle well that night. It was probably a windy night +for any locality, but we could not distinguish the roar which was proper to the +ocean from that which was due to the wind alone. +</p> + +<p> +The sounds which the ocean makes must be very significant and interesting to +those who live near it. When I was leaving the shore at this place the next +summer, and had got a quarter of a mile distant, ascending a hill, I was +startled by a sudden, loud sound from the sea, as if a large steamer were +letting off steam by the shore, so that I caught my breath and felt my blood +run cold for an instant, and I turned about, expecting to see one of the +Atlantic steamers thus far out of her course, but there was nothing unusual to +be seen. There was a low bank at the entrance of the Hollow, between me and the +ocean, and suspecting that I might have risen into another stratum of air in +ascending the hill,—which had wafted to me only the ordinary roar of the +sea,—I immediately descended again, to see if I lost <i>hearing</i> of +it; but, without regard to my ascending or descending, it died away in a minute +or two, and yet there was scarcely any wind all the while. The old man said +that this was what they called the “rut,” a peculiar roar of the +sea before the wind changes, which, however, he could not account for. He +thought that he could tell all about the weather from the sounds which the sea +made. +</p> + +<p> +Old Josselyn, who came to New England in 1638, has it among his weather-signs, +that “the resounding of the sea from the shore, and murmuring of the +winds in the woods, without apparent wind, sheweth wind to follow.” +</p> + +<p> +Being on another part of the coast one night since this, I heard the roar of +the surf a mile distant, and the inhabitants said it was a sign that the wind +would work round east, and we should have rainy weather. The ocean was heaped +up somewhere at the eastward, and this roar was occasioned by its effort to +preserve its equilibrium, the wave reaching the shore before the wind. Also the +captain of a packet between this country and England told me that he sometimes +met with a wave on the Atlantic coming against the wind, perhaps in a calm sea, +which indicated that at a distance the wind was blowing from an opposite +quarter, but the undulation had travelled faster than it. Sailors tell of +“tide-rips” and “ground-swells,” which they suppose to +have been occasioned by hurricanes and earthquakes, and to have travelled many +hundred, and sometimes even two or three thousand miles. +</p> + +<div class="fig" style="width: 297px;"> +<a name="illus16"></a> +<img src="images/hunting.jpg" width="297" height="450" alt="Hunting for a Leak" title="" /> +<p class="caption">Hunting for a Leak</p> +</div> + +<p> +Before sunrise the next morning they let us out again, and I ran over to the +beach to see the sun come out of the ocean. The old woman of eighty-four +winters was already out in the cold morning wind, bareheaded, tripping about +like a young girl, and driving up the cow to milk. She got the breakfast with +despatch, and without noise or bustle; and meanwhile the old man resumed his +stories, standing before us, who were sitting, with his back to the chimney, +and ejecting his tobacco juice right and left into the fire behind him, without +regard to the various dishes which were there preparing. At breakfast we had +eels, buttermilk cake, cold bread, green beans, doughnuts, and tea. The old man +talked a steady stream; and when his wife told him he had better eat his +breakfast, he said: “Don’t hurry me; I have lived too long to be +hurried.” I ate of the apple-sauce and the doughnuts, which I thought had +sustained the least detriment from the old man’s shots, but my companion +refused the apple-sauce, and ate of the hot cake and green beans, which had +appeared to him to occupy the safest part of the hearth. But on comparing notes +afterward, I told him that the buttermilk cake was particularly exposed, and I +saw how it suffered repeatedly, and therefore I avoided it; but he declared +that, however that might be, he witnessed that the apple-sauce was seriously +injured, and had therefore declined that. After breakfast we looked at his +clock, which was out of order, and oiled it with some “hen’s +grease,” for want of sweet oil, for he scarcely could believe that we +were not tinkers or pedlers; meanwhile he told a story about visions, which had +reference to a crack in the clock-case made by frost one night. He was curious +to know to what religious sect we belonged. He said that he had been to hear +thirteen kinds of preaching in one month, when he was young, but he did not +join any of them,—he stuck to his Bible. There was nothing like any of +them in his Bible. While I was shaving in the next room, I heard him ask my +companion to what sect he belonged, to which he answered:— +</p> + +<p> +“O, I belong to the Universal Brotherhood.” +</p> + +<p> +“What’s that?” he asked, “Sons o’ +Temperance?” +</p> + +<p> +Finally, filling our pockets with doughnuts, which he was pleased to find that +we called by the same name that he did, and paying for our entertainment, we +took our departure; but he followed us out of doors, and made us tell him the +names of the vegetables which he had raised from seeds that came out of the +<i>Franklin</i>. They were cabbage, broccoli, and parsley. As I had asked him +the names of so many things, he tried me in turn with all the plants which grew +in his garden, both wild and cultivated. It was about half an acre, which he +cultivated wholly himself. Besides the common garden vegetables, there were +Yellow-Dock, Lemon Balm, Hyssop, Gill-go-over-the-ground. Mouse-ear, +Chick-weed, Roman Wormwood, Elecampane, and other plants. As we stood there, I +saw a fish-hawk stoop to pick a fish out of his pond. +</p> + +<p> +“There,” said I, “he has got a fish.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well,” said the old man, who was looking all the while, but could +see nothing, “he didn’t dive, he just wet his claws.” +</p> + +<p> +And, sure enough, he did not this time, though it is said that they often do, +but he merely stooped low enough to pick him out with his talons; but as he +bore his shining prey over the bushes, it fell to the ground, and we did not +see that he recovered it. That is not their practice. +</p> + +<p> +Thus, having had another crack with the old man, he standing bareheaded under +the eaves, he directed us “athwart the fields,” and we took to the +beach again for another day, it being now late in the morning. +</p> + +<p> +It was but a day or two after this that the safe of the Provincetown Bank was +broken open and robbed by two men from the interior, and we learned that our +hospitable entertainers did at least transiently harbor the suspicion that we +were the men. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap06"></a>VI<br/> +THE BEACH AGAIN</h2> + +<p> +Our way to the high sand-bank, which I have described as extending all along +the coast, led, as usual, through patches of Bayberry bushes which straggled +into the sand. This, next to the Shrub-oak, was perhaps the most common shrub +thereabouts. I was much attracted by its odoriferous leaves and small gray +berries which are clustered about the short twigs, just below the last +year’s growth. I know of but two bushes in Concord, and they, being +staminate plants, do not bear fruit. The berries gave it a venerable +appearance, and they smelled quite spicy, like small confectionery. Robert +Beverley, in his “History of Virginia,” published in 1705, states +that “at the mouth of their rivers, and all along upon the sea and bay, +and near many of their creeks and swamps, grows the myrtle, bearing a berry, of +which they make a hard brittle wax, of a curious green color, which by refining +becomes almost transparent. Of this they make candles, which are never greasy +to the touch nor melt with lying in the hottest weather; neither does the snuff +of these ever offend the smell, like that of a tallow candle; but, instead of +being disagreeable, if an accident puts a candle out, it yields a pleasant +fragrancy to all that are in the room; insomuch that nice people often put them +out on purpose to have the incense of the expiring snuff. The melting of these +berries is said to have been first found out by a surgeon in New England, who +performed wonderful things with a salve made of them.” From the abundance +of berries still hanging on the bushes, we judged that the inhabitants did not +generally collect them for tallow, though we had seen a piece in the house we +had just left. I have since made some tallow myself. Holding a basket beneath +the bare twigs in April, I rubbed them together between my hands and thus +gathered about a quart in twenty minutes, to which were added enough to make +three pints, and I might have gathered them much faster with a suitable rake +and a large shallow basket. They have little prominences like those of an +orange all creased in tallow, which also fills the interstices down to the +stone. The oily part rose to the top, making it look like a savory black broth, +which smelled much like balm or other herb tea. You let it cool, then skim off +the tallow from the surface, melt this again and strain it. I got about a +quarter of a pound weight from my three pints, and more yet remained within the +berries. A small portion cooled in the form of small flattish hemispheres, like +crystallizations, the size of a kernel of corn (nuggets I called them as I +picked them out from amid the berries), Loudon says, that “cultivated +trees are said to yield more wax than those that are found wild.” (See +Duplessy, <i>Végetaux Résineux</i>, Vol. II. p. 60.) If you get any pitch on +your hands in the pine-woods you have only to rub some of these berries between +your hands to start it off. But the ocean was the grand fact there, which made +us forget both bay berries and men. +</p> + +<p> +To-day the air was beautifully clear, and the sea no longer dark and stormy, +though the waves still broke with foam along the beach, but sparkling and full +of life. Already that morning I had seen the day break over the sea as if it +came out of its bosom:— +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +“The saffron-robed Dawn rose in haste from the streams<br/> +Of Ocean, that she might bring light to immortals and to mortals.” +</p> + +<p> +The sun rose visibly at such a distance over the sea that the cloud-bank in the +horizon, which at first concealed him, was not perceptible until he had risen +high behind it, and plainly broke and dispersed it, like an arrow. But as yet I +looked at him as rising over land, and could not, without an effort, realize +that he was rising over the sea. Already I saw some vessels on the horizon, +which had rounded the Cape in the night, and were now well on their watery way +to other lands. +</p> + +<p> +We struck the beach again in the south part of Truro. In the early part of the +day, while it was flood tide and the beach was narrow and soft, we walked on +the bank, which was very high here, but not so level as the day before, being +more interrupted by slight hollows. The author of the Description of the +Eastern Coast says of this part, that “the bank is very high and steep. +From the edge of it west, there is a strip of sand a hundred yards in breadth. +Then succeeds low brushwood, a quarter of a mile wide, and almost impassable. +After which comes a thick, perplexing forest, in which not a house is to be +discovered. Seamen, therefore, though the distance between these two hollows +(Newcomb’s and Brush Hollows) is great, must not attempt to enter the +wood, as in a snowstorm they must undoubtedly perish.” This is still a +true description of the country, except that there is not much high wood left. +</p> + +<div class="fig" style="width: 500px;"> +<a name="illus17"></a> +<img src="images/trurostart.jpg" width="500" height="324" alt="Truro—Starting on a voyage" title="" /> +<p class="caption">Truro—Starting on a voyage</p> +</div> + +<p> +There were many vessels, like gulls, skimming over the surface of the sea, now +half concealed in its troughs, their dolphin-strikers ploughing the water, now +tossed on the top of the billows. One, a bark standing down parallel with the +coast, suddenly furled her sails, came to anchor, and swung round in the wind, +near us, only half a mile from the shore. At first we thought that her captain +wished to communicate with us, and perhaps we did not regard the signal of +distress, which a mariner would have understood, and he cursed us for +cold-hearted wreckers who turned our backs on him. For hours we could still see +her anchored there behind us, and we wondered how she could afford to loiter so +long in her course. Or was she a smuggler who had chosen that wild beach to +land her cargo on? Or did they wish to catch fish, or paint their vessel? +Erelong other barks, and brigs, and schooners, which had in the mean while +doubled the Cape, sailed by her in the smacking breeze, and our consciences +were relieved. Some of these vessels lagged behind, while others steadily went +ahead. We narrowly watched their rig, and the cut of their jibs, and how they +walked the water, for there was all the difference between them that there is +between living creatures. But we wondered that they should be remembering +Boston and New York and Liverpool, steering for them, out there; as if the +sailor might forget his peddling business on such a grand highway. They had +perchance brought oranges from the Western Isles; and were they carrying back +the peel? We might as well transport our old traps across the ocean of +eternity. Is <i>that</i> but another “trading-flood,” with its +blessed isles? Is Heaven such a harbor as the Liverpool docks? +</p> + +<p> +Still held on without a break, the inland barrens and shrubbery, the desert and +the high sand bank with its even slope, the broad white beach, the breakers, +the green water on the bar, and the Atlantic Ocean; and we traversed with +delight new reaches of the shore; we took another lesson in sea-horses’ +manes and sea-cows’ tails, in sea-jellies and sea-clams, with our +new-gained experience. The sea ran hardly less than the day before. It seemed +with every wave to be subsiding, because such was our expectation, and yet when +hours had elapsed we could see no difference. But there it was, balancing +itself, the restless ocean by our side, lurching in its gait. Each wave left +the sand all braided or woven, as it were, with a coarse woof and warp, and a +distinct raised edge to its rapid work. We made no haste, since we wished to +see the ocean at our leisure; and indeed that soft sand was no place in which +to be in a hurry, for one mile there was as good as two elsewhere. Besides, we +were obliged frequently to empty our shoes of the sand which one took in in +climbing or descending the bank. +</p> + +<p> +As we were walking close to the water’s edge this morning we turned +round, by chance, and saw a large black object which the waves had just cast up +on the beach behind us, yet too far off for us to distinguish what it was; and +when we were about to return to it, two men came running from the bank, where +no human beings had appeared before, as if they had come out of the sand, in +order to save it before another wave took it. As we approached, it took +successively the form of a huge fish, a drowned man, a sail or a net, and +finally of a mass of tow-cloth, part of the cargo of the <i>Franklin</i>, which +the men loaded into a cart. +</p> + +<p> +Objects on the beach, whether men or inanimate things, look not only +exceedingly grotesque, but much larger and more wonderful than they actually +are. Lately, when approaching the seashore several degrees south of this, I saw +before me, seemingly half a mile distant, what appeared like bold and rugged +cliffs on the beach, fifteen feet high, and whitened by the sun and waves; but +after a few steps it proved to be low heaps of rags,—part of the cargo of +a wrecked vessel,—scarcely more than a foot in height. Once also it was +my business to go in search of the relics of a human body, mangled by sharks, +which had just been cast up, a week after a wreck, having got the direction +from a light-house: I should find it a mile or two distant over the sand, a +dozen rods from the water, covered with a cloth, by a stick stuck up. I +expected that I must look very narrowly to find so small an object, but the +sandy beach, half a mile wide, and stretching farther than the eye could reach, +was so perfectly smooth and bare, and the mirage toward the sea so magnifying, +that when I was half a mile distant the insignificant sliver which marked the +spot looked like a bleached spar, and the relics were as conspicuous as if they +lay in state on that sandy plain, or a generation had labored to pile up their +cairn there. Close at hand they were simply some bones with a little flesh +adhering to them, in fact, only a slight inequality in the sweep of the shore. +There was nothing at all remarkable about them, and they were singularly +inoffensive both to the senses and the imagination. But as I stood there they +grew more and more imposing. They were alone with the beach and the sea, whose +hollow roar seemed addressed to them, and I was impressed as if there was an +understanding between them and the ocean which necessarily left me out, with my +snivelling sympathies. That dead body had taken possession of the shore, and +reigned over it as no living one, could, in the name of a certain majesty which +belonged to it. +</p> + +<p> +We afterward saw many small pieces of tow-cloth washed up, and I learn that it +continued to be found in good condition, even as late as November in that year, +half a dozen bolts at a time. +</p> + +<p> +We eagerly filled our pockets with the smooth round pebbles which in some +places, even here, were thinly sprinkled over the sand, together with flat +circular shells (<i>Scutellæ?</i>); but, as we had read, when they were dry +they had lost their beauty, and at each sitting we emptied our pockets again of +the least remarkable, until our collection was well culled. Every material was +rolled into the pebble form by the waves; not only stones of various kinds, +but the hard coal which some vessel had dropped, bits of glass, and in one +instance a mass of peat three feet long, where there was nothing like it to be +seen for many miles. All the great rivers of the globe are annually, if not +constantly, discharging great quantities of lumber, which drifts to distant +shores. I have also seen very perfect pebbles of brick, and bars of Castile +soap from a wreck rolled into perfect cylinders, and still spirally streaked +with red, like a barber’s pole. When a cargo of rags is washed ashore, +every old pocket and bag-like recess will be filled to bursting with sand by +being rolled on the beach; and on one occasion, the pockets in the clothing of +the wrecked being thus puffed up, even after they had been ripped open by +wreckers, deluded me into the hope of identifying them by the contents. A pair +of gloves looked exactly as if filled by a hand. The water in such clothing is +soon wrung out and evaporated, but the sand, which works itself into every +seam, is not so easily got rid of. Sponges, which are picked up on the shore, +as is well known, retain some of the sand of the beach to the latest day, in +spite of every effort to extract it. +</p> + +<p> +I found one stone on the top of the bank, of a dark gray color, shaped exactly +like a giant clam (<i>Mactra solidissima</i>), and of the same size; and, what +was more remarkable, one-half of the outside had shelled off and lay near it, +of the same form and depth with one of the valves of this clam, while the other +half was loose, leaving a solid core of a darker color within it. I afterward +saw a stone resembling a razor clam, but it was a solid one. It appeared as if +the stone, in the process of formation, had filled the mould which a clam-shell +furnished; or the same law that shaped the clam had made a clam of stone. Dead +clams, with shells full of sand, are called sand clams. There were many of the +large clamshells filled with sand; and sometimes one valve was separately +filled exactly even, as if it had been heaped and then scraped. Even among the +many small stones on the top of the bank, I found one arrow-head. +</p> + +<p> +Beside the giant clam and barnacles, we found on the shore a small clam +(<i>Mesodesma arctata</i>), which I dug with my hands in numbers on the bars, +and which is sometimes eaten by the inhabitants, in the absence of the <i>Mya +arenaria</i>, on this side. Most of their empty shells had been perforated by +some foe.—Also, the +</p> + +<p> +<i>Astarte castanea</i>. +</p> + +<p> +The Edible Mussel (<i>Mytilus edulis</i>) on the few rocks, and washed up in +curious bunches of forty or fifty, held together by its rope-like +<i>byssus</i>. +</p> + +<p> +The Scollop Shell (<i>Pecten concentricus</i>), used for card-racks and +pin-cushions. +</p> + +<p> +Cockles, or Cuckoos (<i>Natica heros</i>), and their remarkable <i>nidus</i>, +called “sand-circle,” looking like the top of a stone jug without +the stopple, and broken on one side, or like a flaring dickey made of +sand-paper. Also, +</p> + +<p> +<i>Cancellaria Couthouyi</i> (?), and +</p> + +<p> +Periwinkles (?) (<i>Fusus decemcostatus</i>). +</p> + +<p> +We afterward saw some other kinds on the Bay-side. Gould states that this Cape +“has hitherto proved a barrier to the migrations of many species of +Mollusca.”—“Of the one hundred and ninety-seven species +[which he described in 1840 as belonging to Massachusetts], eighty-three do not +pass to the South shore, and fifty are not found on the North shore of the +Cape.” +</p> + +<p> +Among Crustacea, there were the shells of Crabs and Lobsters, often bleached +quite white high up the beach; Sea or Beach Fleas (<i>Amphipoda</i>); and the +cases of the Horse-shoe Crab, or Saucepan Fish (<i>Limulus Polyphemus</i>), of +which we saw many alive on the Bay side, where they feed pigs on them. Their +tails were used as arrow-heads by the Indians. +</p> + +<p> +Of Radiata, there were the Sea Chestnut or Egg (<i>Echinus granulatus</i>), +commonly divested of its spines; flat circular shells (<i>Scutella parma?</i>) +covered with chocolate-colored spines, but becoming smooth and white, with five +petal-like figures; a few Star-fishes or Five-fingers (<i>Asterias rubens</i>); +and Sun-fishes or Sea-jellies (<i>Aureliæ</i>). +</p> + +<p> +There was also at least one species of Sponge. +</p> + +<p> +The plants which I noticed here and there on the pure sandy shelf, between the +ordinary high-water mark and the foot of the bank, were Sea Rocket (<i>Cakile +Americana</i>), Saltwort (<i>Salsola kali</i>), Sea Sandwort (<i>Honkenya +peploides</i>), Sea Burdock (<i>Xanthium echinatum</i>), Sea-side Spurge +(<i>Euphorbia poylgonifolia</i>); also, Beach Grass (<i>Arundo, Psamma</i>, or +<i>Calamagrostis arenaria</i>), Sea-side Golden-rod (<i>Solidago +sempervirens</i>), and the Beach Pea (<i>Lathyrus maritimus</i>). +</p> + +<p> +Sometimes we helped a wrecker turn over a larger log than usual, or we amused +ourselves with rolling stones down the bank, but we rarely could make one reach +the water, the beach was so soft and wide; or we bathed in some shallow within +a bar, where the sea covered us with sand at every flux, though it was quite +cold and windy. The ocean there is commonly but a tantalizing prospect in hot +weather, for with all that water before you, there is, as we were afterward +told, no bathing on the Atlantic side, on account of the undertow and the rumor +of sharks. At the lighthouse both in Eastham and Truro, the only houses quite +on the shore, they declared, the next year, that they would not bathe there +“for any sum,” for they sometimes saw the sharks tossed up and +quiver for a moment on the sand. Others laughed at these stories, but perhaps +they could afford to because they never bathed anywhere. One old wrecker told +us that he killed a regular man-eating shark fourteen feet long, and hauled him +out with his oxen, where we had bathed; and another, that his father caught a +smaller one of the same kind that was stranded there, by standing him up on his +snout so that the waves could not take him. They will tell you tough stories of +sharks all over the Cape, which I do not presume to doubt utterly,—how +they will sometimes upset a boat, or tear it in pieces, to get at the man in +it. I can easily believe in the undertow, but I have no doubt that one shark in +a dozen years is enough to keep up the reputation of a beach a hundred miles +long. I should add, however, that in July we walked on the bank here a quarter +of a mile parallel with a fish about six feet in length, possibly a shark, +which was prowling slowly along within two rods of the shore. It was of a pale +brown color, singularly film-like and indistinct in the water, as if all nature +abetted this child of ocean, and showed many darker transverse bars or rings +whenever it came to the surface. It is well known that different fishes even of +the same species are colored by the water they inhabit. We saw it go into a +little cove or bathing-tub, where we had just been bathing, where the water was +only four or five feet deep at that time, and after exploring it go slowly out +again; but we continued to bathe there, only observing first from the bank if +the cove was preoccupied. We thought that the water was fuller of life, more +aerated perhaps than that of the Bay, like soda-water, for we were as +particular as young salmon, and the expectation of encountering a shark did not +subtract anything from its life-giving qualities. +</p> + +<p> +Sometimes we sat on the wet beach and watched the beach birds, sand-pipers, and +others, trotting along close to each wave, and waiting for the sea to cast up +their breakfast. The former (<i>Charadrius melodus</i>) ran with great rapidity +and then stood stock still remarkably erect and hardly to be distinguished from +the beach. The wet sand was covered with small skipping Sea Fleas, which +apparently make a part of their food. These last are the little scavengers of +the beach, and are so numerous that they will devour large fishes, which have +been cast up, in a very short time. One little bird not larger than a +sparrow,—it may have been a Phalarope,—would alight on the +turbulent surface where the breakers were five or six feet high, and float +buoyantly there like a duck, cunningly taking to its wings and lifting itself a +few feet through the air over the foaming crest of each breaker, but sometimes +outriding safely a considerable billow which hid it some seconds, when its +instinct told it that it would not break. It was a little creature thus to +sport with the ocean, but it was as perfect a success in its way as the +breakers in theirs. There was also an almost uninterrupted line of coots rising +and falling with the waves, a few rods from the shore, the whole length of the +Cape. They made as constant a part of the ocean’s border as the pads or +pickerel-weed do of that of a pond. We read the following as to the Storm +Petrel (<i>Thalassidroma Wilsonii</i>), which is seen in the Bay as well as on +the outside. “The feathers on the breast of the Storm Petrel are, like +those of all swimming birds, water-proof; but substances not susceptible of +being wetted with water are, for that very reason, the best fitted for +collecting oil from its surface. That function is performed by the feathers on +the breast of the Storm Petrels as they touch on the surface; and though that +may not be the only way in which they procure their food, it is certainly that +in which they obtain great part of it. They dash along till they have loaded +their feathers and then they pause upon the wave and remove the oil with their +bills.” +</p> + +<p> +Thus we kept on along the gently curving shore, seeing two or three miles ahead +at once,—along this ocean side-walk, where there was none to turn out +for, with the middle of the road the highway of nations on our right, and the +sand cliffs of the Cape on our left. We saw this forenoon a part of the wreck +of a vessel, probably the <i>Franklin</i>, a large piece fifteen feet square, +and still freshly painted. With a grapple and a line we could have saved it, +for the waves repeatedly washed it within cast, but they as often took it back. +It would have been a lucky haul for some poor wrecker, for I have been told +that one man who paid three or four dollars for a part of the wreck of that +vessel, sold fifty or sixty dollars’ worth of iron out of it. Another, +the same who picked up the Captain’s valise with the memorable letter in +it, showed me, growing in his garden, many pear and plum trees which washed +ashore from her, all nicely tied up and labelled, and he said that he might +have got five hundred dollars’ worth; for a Mr. Bell was importing the +nucleus of a nursery to be established near Boston. His turnip-seed came from +the same source. Also valuable spars from the same vessel and from the +<i>Cactus</i> lay in his yard. In short the inhabitants visit the beach to see +what they have caught as regularly as a fisherman his weir or a lumberer his +boom; the Cape is their boom. I heard of one who had recently picked up twenty +barrels of apples in good condition, probably a part of a deck load thrown over +in a storm. +</p> + +<p> +Though there are wreck-masters appointed to look after valuable property which +must be advertised, yet undoubtedly a great deal of value is secretly carried +off. But are we not all wreckers contriving that some treasure may be washed up +on our beach, that we may secure it, and do we not infer the habits of these +Nauset and Barnegat wreckers from the common modes of getting a living? +</p> + +<p> +The sea, vast and wild as it is, bears thus the waste and wrecks of human art +to its remotest shore. There is no telling what it may not vomit up. It lets +nothing lie; not even the giant clams which cling to its bottom. It is still +heaving up the tow-cloth of the <i>Franklin</i>, and perhaps a piece of some +old pirate’s ship, wrecked more than a hundred years ago, comes ashore +to-day. Some years since, when a vessel was wrecked here which had nutmegs in +her cargo, they were strewn all along the beach, and for a considerable time +were not spoiled by the salt water. Soon afterward, a fisherman caught a cod +which was full of them. Why, then, might not the Spice-Islanders shake their +nutmeg trees into the ocean, and let all nations who stand in need of them pick +them up? However, after a year, I found that the nutmegs from the +<i>Franklin</i> had become soft. +</p> + +<p> +You might make a curious list of articles which fishes have +swallowed,—sailors’ open clasp-knives, and bright tin snuff-boxes, +not knowing what was in them,—and jugs, and jewels, and Jonah. The other +day I came across the following scrap in a newspaper. +</p> + +<p class="letter"> +“A Religious Fish.—A short time ago, mine host Stewart, of the +Denton Hotel, purchased a rock-fish, weighing about sixty pounds. On opening it +he found in it a certificate of membership of the M. E. Church, which we read +as follows:— +</p> + +<pre> + Member + Methodist E. Church. + Founded A. D. 1784. +Quarterly Ticket. + 18 + Minister. +</pre> + +<p class="letter"> +‘For our light affliction, which is but for a moment, worketh for us a +far more exceeding and eternal weight of glory.’—2 Cor. iv. 17. +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +‘O what are all my sufferings here,<br/> + If, Lord, thou count me meet<br/> +With that enraptured host t’ appear,<br/> + And worship at thy feet!’ +</p> + +<p> +“The paper was of course in a crumpled and wet condition, but on exposing +it to the sun, and ironing the kinks out of it, it became quite +legible.—<i>Denton</i> (<i>Md.</i>) <i>Journal</i>.” +</p> + +<p class="p2"> +From time to time we saved a wreck ourselves, a box or barrel, and set it on +its end, and appropriated it with crossed sticks; and it will lie there +perhaps, respected by brother wreckers, until some more violent storm shall +take it, really lost to man until wrecked again. We also saved, at the cost of +wet feet only, a valuable cord and buoy, part of a seine, with which the sea +was playing, for it seemed ungracious to refuse the least gift which so great a +personage offered you. We brought this home and still use it for a garden line. +I picked up a bottle half buried in the wet sand, covered with barnacles, but +stoppled tight, and half full of red ale, which still smacked of +juniper,—all that remained I fancied from the wreck of a rowdy +world,—that great salt sea on the one hand, and this little sea of ale on +the other, preserving their separate characters. What if it could tell us its +adventures over countless ocean waves! Man would not be man through such +ordeals as it had passed. But as I poured it slowly out on to the sand, it +seemed to me that man himself was like a half-emptied bottle of pale ale, which +Time had drunk so far, yet stoppled tight for a while, and drifting about in +the ocean of circumstances; but destined erelong to mingle with the surrounding +waves, or be spilled amid the sands of a distant shore. +</p> + +<p> +In the summer I saw two men fishing for Bass hereabouts. Their bait was a +bullfrog, or several small frogs in a bunch, for want of squid. They followed a +retiring wave and whirling their lines round and round their heads with +increasing rapidity, threw them as far as they could into the sea; then +retreating, sat down, flat on the sand, and waited for a bite. It was literally +(or <i>littorally</i>) walking down to the shore, and throwing your line into +the Atlantic. I should not have known what might take hold of the other end, +whether Proteus or another. At any rate, if you could not pull him in, why, you +might let him go without being pulled in yourself. And <i>they</i> knew by +experience that it would be a Striped Bass, or perhaps a Cod, for these fishes +play along near the shore. +</p> + +<p> +From time to time we sat under the lee of a sand-hill on the bank, thinly +covered with coarse Beach-grass, and steadily gazed on the sea, or watched the +vessels going south, all Blessings of the Bay of course. We could see a little +more than half a circle of ocean, besides the glimpses of the Bay which we got +behind us; the sea there was not wild and dreary in all respects, for there +were frequently a hundred sail in sight at once on the Atlantic. You can +commonly count about eighty in a favorable summer day and pilots sometimes land +and ascend the bank to look out for these which require their services. These +had been waiting for fair weather, and had come out of Boston Harbor together. +The same is the case when they have been assembled in the Vineyard Sound, so +that you may see but few one day, and a large fleet the next. Schooners with +many jibs and stay-sails crowded all the sea road; square-rigged vessels with +their great height and breadth of canvas were ever and anon appearing out of +the far horizon, or disappearing and sinking into it; here and there a +pilot-boat was towing its little boat astern toward some distant foreigner who +had just fired a gun, the echo of which along the shore sounded like the caving +of the bank. We could see the pilot looking through his glass toward the +distant ship which was putting back to speak with him. He sails many a mile to +meet her; and now she puts her sails aback, and communicates with him +alongside,—sends some important message to the owners, and then bids +farewell to these shores for good and all; or, perchance a propeller passed and +made fast to some disabled craft, or one that had been becalmed, whose cargo of +fruit might spoil. Though silently, and for the most part incommunicatively, +going about their business, they were, no doubt, a source of cheerfulness and a +kind of society to one another. +</p> + +<div class="fig" style="width: 314px;"> +<a name="illus18"></a> +<img src="images/unloading.jpg" width="314" height="450" alt="Unloading the day’s catch" title="" /> +<p class="caption">Unloading the day’s catch</p> +</div> + +<p> +To-day it was the Purple Sea, an epithet which I should not before have +accepted. There were distinct patches of the color of a purple grape with the +bloom rubbed off. But first and last the sea is of all colors. Well writes +Gilpin concerning “the brilliant hues which are continually playing on +the surface of a quiet ocean,” and this was not too turbulent at a +distance from the shore. “Beautiful,” says he, “no doubt in a +high degree are those glimmering tints which often invest the tops of +mountains; but they are mere coruscations compared with these marine colors, +which are continually varying and shifting into each other in all the vivid +splendor of the rainbow, through the space often of several leagues.” +Commonly, in calm weather, for half a mile from the shore, where the bottom +tinges it, the sea is green, or greenish, as are some ponds; then blue for many +miles, often with purple tinges, bounded in the distance by a light almost +silvery stripe; beyond which there is generally a dark-blue rim, like a +mountain-ridge in the horizon, as if, like that, it owed its color to the +intervening atmosphere. On another day it will be marked with long streaks, +alternately smooth and rippled, light-colored and dark, even like our inland +meadows in a freshet, and showing which way the wind sets. +</p> + +<p> +Thus we sat on the foaming shore, looking on the wine-colored ocean,— +</p> + +<p class="letter"> +Φίν’ ἔφ’ ἁλὸς +πολιῆς, ὁρόων +ἐπὶ οἴνοπα +πόντον. +</p> + +<p> +Here and there was a darker spot on its surface, the shadow of a cloud, though +the sky was so clear that no cloud would have been noticed otherwise, and no +shadow would have been seen on the land, where a much smaller surface is +visible at once. So, distant clouds and showers may be seen on all sides by a +sailor in the course of a day, which do not necessarily portend rain where he +is. In July we saw similar dark-blue patches where schools of Menhaden rippled +the surface, scarcely to be distinguished from the shadows of clouds. Sometimes +the sea was spotted with them far and wide, such is its inexhaustible +fertility. Close at hand you see their back fin, which is very long and sharp, +projecting two or three inches above water. From time to time also we saw the +white bellies of the Bass playing along the shore. +</p> + +<p> +It was a poetic recreation to watch those distant sails steering for +half-fabulous ports, whose very names are a mysterious music to our ears: +Fayal, and Babelmandel, ay, and Chagres, and Panama,—bound to the famous +Bay of San Francisco, and the golden streams of Sacramento and San Joaquin, to +Feather River and the American Fork, where Sutter’s Fort presides, and +inland stands the City de los Angeles. It is remarkable that men do not sail +the sea with more expectation. Nothing remarkable was ever accomplished in a +prosaic mood. The heroes and discoverers have found true more than was +previously believed, only when they were expecting and dreaming of something +more than their contemporaries dreamed of, or even themselves discovered, that +is, when they were in a frame of mind fitted to behold the truth. Referred to +the world’s standard, they are always insane. Even savages have +indirectly surmised as much. Humboldt, speaking of Columbus approaching the New +World, says: “The grateful coolness of the evening air, the ethereal +purity of the starry firmament, the balmy fragrance of flowers, wafted to him +by the land breeze, all led him to suppose (as we are told by Herrara, in the +Decades) that he was approaching the garden of Eden, the sacred abode of our +first parents. The Orinoco seemed to him one of the four rivers which, +according to the venerable tradition of the ancient world, flowed from +Paradise, to water and divide the surface of the earth, newly adorned with +plants.” So even the expeditions for the discovery of El Dorado, and of +the Fountain of Youth, led to real, if not compensatory discoveries. +</p> + +<p> +We discerned vessels so far off, when once we began to look, that only the tops +of their masts in the horizon were visible, and it took a strong intention of +the eye, and its most favorable side, to see them at all, and sometimes we +doubted if we were not counting our eyelashes. Charles Darwin states that he +saw, from the base of the Andes, “the masts of the vessels at anchor in +the bay of Valparaiso, although not less than twenty-six geographical miles +distant,” and that Anson had been surprised at the distance at which his +vessels were discovered from the coast, without knowing the reason, namely, the +great height of the land and the transparency of the air. Steamers may be +detected much farther than sailing vessels, for, as one says, when their hulls +and masts of wood and iron are down, their smoky masts and streamers still +betray them; and the same writer, speaking of the comparative advantages of +bituminous and anthracite coal for war-steamers, states that, “from the +ascent of the columns of smoke above the horizon, the motions of the steamers +in Calais Harbor [on the coast of France] are at all times observable at +Ramsgate [on the English coast], from the first lighting of the fires to the +putting out at sea; and that in America the steamers burning the fat bituminous +coal can be tracked at sea at least seventy miles before the hulls become +visible, by the dense columns of black smoke pouring out of their chimneys, and +trailing along the horizon.” +</p> + +<p> +Though there were numerous vessels at this great distance in the horizon on +every side, yet the vast spaces between them, like the spaces between the +stars, far as they were distant from us, so were they from one +another,—nay, some were twice as far from each other as from +us,—impressed us with a sense of the immensity of the ocean, the +“unfruitful ocean,” as it has been called, and we could see what +proportion man and his works bear to the globe. As we looked off, and saw the +water growing darker and darker and deeper and deeper the farther we looked, +till it was awful to consider, and it appeared to have no relation to the +friendly land, either as shore or bottom,—of what use is a bottom if it +is out of sight, if it is two or three miles from the surface, and you are to +be drowned so long before you get to it, though it were made of the same stuff +with your native soil?—over that ocean, where, as the Veda says, +“there is nothing to give support, nothing to rest upon, nothing to cling +to,” I felt that I was a land animal. The man in a balloon even may +commonly alight on the earth in a few moments, but the sailor’s only hope +is that he may reach the distant shore. I could then appreciate the heroism of +the old navigator. Sir Humphrey Gilbert, of whom it is related that, being +overtaken by a storm when on his return from America, in the year 1583, far +northeastward from where we were, sitting abaft with a book in his hand, just +before he was swallowed up in the deep, he cried out to his comrades in the +<i>Hind</i>, as they came within hearing, “We are as near to Heaven by +sea as by land.” I saw that it would not be easy to realize. +</p> + +<p> +On Cape Cod, the next most eastern land you hear of is St. George’s Bank +(the fishermen tell of “Georges,” “Cashus,” and other +sunken lands which they frequent). Every Cape man has a theory about +George’s Bank having been an island once, and in their accounts they +gradually reduce the shallowness from six, five, four, two fathoms, to +somebody’s confident assertion that he has seen a mackerel-gull sitting +on a piece of dry land there. It reminded me, when I thought of the shipwrecks +which had taken place there, of the Isle of Demons, laid down off this coast in +old charts of the New World. There must be something monstrous, methinks, in a +vision of the sea bottom from over some bank a thousand miles from the shore, +more awful than its imagined bottomlessness; a drowned continent, all livid and +frothing at the nostrils, like the body of a drowned man, which is better sunk +deep than near the surface. +</p> + +<p> +I have been surprised to discover from a steamer the shallowness of +Massachusetts Bay itself. Off Billingsgate Point I could have touched the +bottom with a pole, and I plainly saw it variously shaded with sea-weed, at +five or six miles from the shore. This is “The Shoal-ground of the +Cape,” it is true, but elsewhere the bay is not much deeper than a +country pond. We are told that the deepest water in the English Channel between +Shakespeare’s Cliff and Cape Grinéz, in France, is one hundred and eighty +feet; and Guyot says that “the Baltic Sea has a depth of only one hundred +and twenty feet between the coasts of Germany and those of Sweden,” and +“the Adriatic between Venice and Trieste has a depth of only one hundred +and thirty feet.” A pond in my native town, only half a mile long, is +more than one hundred feet deep. +</p> + +<p> +The ocean is but a larger lake. At midsummer you may sometimes see a strip of +glassy smoothness on it, a few rods in width and many miles long, as if the +surface there were covered with a thin pellicle of oil, just as on a country +pond; a sort of stand-still, you would say, at the meeting or parting of two +currents of air (if it does not rather mark the unrippled steadiness of a +current of water beneath), for sailors tell of the ocean and land breeze +meeting between the fore and aft sails of a vessel, while the latter are full, +the former being suddenly taken aback. Daniel Webster, in one of his letters +describing blue-fishing off Martha’s Vineyard, referring to those smooth +places, which fishermen and sailors call “slicks,” says: “We +met with them yesterday, and our boatman made for them, whenever discovered. He +said they were caused by the blue-fish chopping up their prey. That is to say, +those voracious fellows get into a school of menhaden, which are too large to +swallow whole, and they bite them into pieces to suit their tastes. And the oil +from this butchery, rising to the surface, makes the +‘slick.’” +</p> + +<p> +Yet this same placid Ocean, as civil now as a city’s harbor, a place for +ships and commerce, will erelong be lashed into sudden fury, and all its caves +and cliffs will resound with tumult. It will ruthlessly heave these vessels to +and fro, break them in pieces in its sandy or stony jaws, and deliver their +crews to sea-monsters. It will play with them like sea-weed, distend them like +dead frogs, and carry them about, now high, now low, to show to the fishes, +giving them a nibble. This gentle Ocean will toss and tear the rag of a +man’s body like the father of mad bulls, and his relatives may be seen +seeking the remnants for weeks along the strand. From some quiet inland hamlet +they have rushed weeping to the unheard-of shore, and now stand uncertain where +a sailor has recently been buried amid the sandhills. +</p> + +<p> +It is generally supposed that they who have long been conversant with the Ocean +can foretell by certain indications, such as its roar and the notes of +sea-fowl, when it will change from calm to storm; but probably no such ancient +mariner as we dream of exists; they know no more, at least, than the older +sailors do about this voyage of life on which we are all embarked. +Nevertheless, we love to hear the sayings of old sailors, and their accounts of +natural phenomena, which totally ignore, and are ignored by, science; and +possibly they have not always looked over the gunwale so long in vain. Kalm +repeats a story which was told him in Philadelphia by a Mr. Cock, who was one +day sailing to the West Indies in a small yacht, with an old man on board who +was well acquainted with those seas. “The old man sounding the depth, +called to the mate to tell Mr. Cock to launch the boats immediately, and to put +a sufficient number of men into them, in order to tow the yacht during the +calm, that they might reach the island before them as soon as possible, as +within twenty-four hours there would be a strong hurricane. Mr. Cock asked him +what reasons he had to think so; the old man replied that, on sounding, he saw +the lead in the water at a distance of many fathoms more than he had seen it +before; that therefore the water was become clear all of a sudden, which he +looked upon as a certain sign of an impending hurricane in the sea.” The +sequel of the story is that, by good fortune and by dint of rowing they managed +to gain a safe harbor before the hurricane had reached its height; but it +finally raged with so much violence that not only many ships were lost and +houses unroofed, but even their own vessel in harbor was washed so far on shore +that several weeks elapsed before it could be got off. +</p> + +<p> +The Greeks would not have called the ocean +ἀτρύγετος, or unfruitful, +though it does not produce wheat, if they had viewed it by the light of modern +science; for naturalists now assert that “the sea, and not the land, is +the principal seat of life,”—though not of vegetable life. Darwin +affirms that “our most thickly inhabited forests appear almost as deserts +when we come to compare them with the corresponding regions of the +ocean.” Agassiz and Gould tell us that “the sea teems with animals +of all classes, far beyond the extreme point of flowering plants”; but +they add that “experiments of dredging in very deep water have also +taught us that the abyss of the ocean is nearly a +desert”;—“so that modern investigations,” to quote the +words of Desor, “merely go to confirm the great idea which was vaguely +anticipated by the ancient poets and philosophers, that the Ocean is the origin +of all things.” Yet marine animals and plants hold a lower rank in the +scale of being than land animals and plants. “There is no instance +known,” says Desor, “of an animal becoming aquatic in its perfect +state, after having lived in its lower stage on dry land.” but as in the +case of the tadpole, “the progress invariably points towards the dry +land.” In short, the dry land itself came through and out of the water in +its way to the heavens, for, “in going back through the geological ages, +we come to an epoch when, according to all appearances, the dry land did not +exist, and when the surface of our globe was entirely covered with +water.” We looked on the sea, then, once more, not as +ἀτρύγετος, or unfruitful, but as +it has been more truly called, the “laboratory of continents.” +</p> + +<p> +Though we have indulged in some placid reflections of late, the reader must not +forget that the dash and roar of the waves were incessant. Indeed, it would be +well if he were to read with a large conch-shell at his ear. But +notwithstanding that it was very cold and windy to-day, it was such a cold as +we thought would not cause one to take cold who was exposed to it, owing to the +saltness of the air and the dryness of the soil. Yet the author of the old +Description of Wellfleet says: “The atmosphere is very much impregnated +with saline particles, which, perhaps, with the great use of fish, and the +neglect of cider and spruce-beer, may be a reason why the people are more +subject to sore mouths and throats than in other places.” +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap07"></a>VII<br/> +ACROSS THE CAPE</h2> + +<p> +When we have returned from the seaside, we sometimes ask ourselves why we did +not spend more time in gazing at the sea; but very soon the traveller does not +look as the sea more than at the heavens. As for the interior, if the elevated +sand-bar in the midst of the ocean can be said to have any interior, it was an +exceedingly desolate landscape, with rarely a cultivated or cultivable field in +sight. We saw no villages, and seldom a house, for these are generally on the +Bay side. It was a succession of shrubby hills and valleys, now wearing an +autumnal tint. You would frequently think, from the character of the surface, +the dwarfish trees, and the bearberries around, that you were on the top of a +mountain. The only wood in Eastham was on the edge of Wellfleet. The +pitch-pines were not commonly more than fifteen or eighteen feet high. The +larger ones covered with lichens,—often hung with the long gray +<i>Usnea</i>. There is scarcely a white-pine on the forearm of the Cape. Yet in +the northwest part of Eastham, near the Camp Ground, we saw, the next summer, +some quite rural, and even sylvan retreats, for the Cape, where small rustling +groves of oaks and locusts and whispering pines, on perfectly level ground, +made a little paradise. The locusts, both transplanted and growing naturally +about the houses there, appeared to flourish better than any other tree. There +were thin belts of wood in Wellfleet and Truro, a mile or more from the +Atlantic, but, for the most part, we could see the horizon through them, or, if +extensive, the trees were not large. Both oaks and pines had often the same +flat look with the apple-trees. Commonly, the oak woods twenty-five years old +were a mere scraggy shrubbery nine or ten feet high, and we could frequently +reach to their topmost leaf. Much that is called “woods” was about +half as high as this,—only patches of shrub-oak, bayberry, beach-plum, +and wild roses, overrun with woodbine. When the roses were in bloom, these +patches in the midst of the sand displayed such a profusion of blossoms, +mingled with the aroma of the bayberry, that no Italian or other artificial +rose-garden could equal them. They were perfectly Elysian, and realized my idea +of an oasis in the desert. Huckleberry-bushes were very abundant, and the next +summer they bore a remarkable quantity of that kind of gall called +Huckleberry-apple, forming quite handsome though monstrous blossoms. But it +must be added, that this shrubbery swarmed with wood-ticks, sometimes very +troublesome parasites, and which it takes very horny fingers to crack. +</p> + +<div class="fig" style="width: 304px;"> +<a name="illus19"></a> +<img src="images/trurofoot.jpg" width="304" height="450" alt="A Truro footpath" title="" /> +<p class="caption">A Truro footpath</p> +</div> + +<p> +The inhabitants of these towns have a great regard for a tree, though their +standard for one is necessarily neither large nor high; and when they tell you +of the large trees that once grew here, you must think of them, not as +absolutely large, but large compared with the present generation. Their +“brave old oaks,” of which they speak with so much respect, and +which they will point out to you as relics of the primitive forest, one hundred +or one hundred and fifty, ay, for aught they know, two hundred years old, have +a ridiculously dwarfish appearance, which excites a smile in the beholder. The +largest and most venerable which they will show you in such a case are, +perhaps, not more than twenty or twenty-five feet high. I was especially amused +by the Liliputian old oaks in the south part of Truro. To the inexperienced +eye, which appreciated their proportions only, they might appear vast as the +tree which saved his royal majesty, but measured, they were dwarfed at once +almost into lichens which a deer might eat up in a morning. Yet they will tell +you that large schooners were once built of timber which grew in Wellfleet. The +old houses also are built of the timber of the Cape; but instead of the forests +in the midst of which they originally stood, barren heaths, with poverty-grass +for heather, now stretch away on every side. The modern houses are built of +what is called “dimension timber,” <i>imported</i> from Maine, all +ready to be set up, so that commonly they do not touch it again with an axe. +Almost all the wood used for fuel is imported by vessels or currents, and of +course all the coal. I was told that probably a quarter of the fuel and a +considerable part of the lumber used in North Truro was drift-wood. Many get +<i>all</i> their fuel from the beach. +</p> + +<p> +Of birds not found in the interior of the State,—at least in my +neighborhood,—I heard, in the summer, the Black-throated Bunting +(<i>Fringilla Americana</i>) amid the shrubbery, and in the open land the +Upland Plover (<i>Totanus Bartramius</i>), whose quivering notes were ever and +anon prolonged into a clear, somewhat plaintive, yet hawk-like scream, which +sounded at a very indefinite distance. The bird may have been in the next +field, though it sounded a mile off. +</p> + +<p> +To-day we were walking through Truro, a town of about eighteen hundred +inhabitants. We had already come to Pamet River, which empties into the Bay. +This was the limit of the Pilgrims’ journey up the Cape from +Provincetown, when seeking a place for settlement. It rises in a hollow within +a few rods of the Atlantic, and one who lives near its source told us that in +high tides the sea leaked through, yet the wind and waves preserve intact the +barrier between them, and thus the whole river is steadily driven westward +butt-end foremost,—fountain-head, channel, and light-house at the mouth, +all together. +</p> + +<p> +Early in the afternoon we reached the Highland Light, whose white tower we had +seen rising out of the bank in front of us for the last mile or two. It is +fourteen miles from the Nauset Lights, on what is called the Clay Pounds, an +immense bed of clay abutting on the Atlantic, and, as the keeper told us, +stretching quite across the Cape, which is here only about two miles wide. We +perceived at once a difference in the soil, for there was an interruption of +the desert, and a slight appearance of a sod under our feet, such as we had not +seen for the last two days. +</p> + +<p> +After arranging to lodge at the light-house, we rambled across the Cape to the +Bay, over a singularly bleak and barren-looking country, consisting of rounded +hills and hollows, called by geologists diluvial elevations and +depressions,—a kind of scenery which has been compared to a chopped sea, +though this suggests too sudden a transition. There is a delineation of this +very landscape in Hitchcock’s Report on the Geology of Massachusetts, a +work which, by its size at least, reminds one of a diluvial elevation itself. +Looking southward from the light-house, the Cape appeared like an elevated +plateau, sloping very regularly, though slightly, downward from the edge of the +bank on the Atlantic side, about one hundred and fifty feet above the ocean, to +that on the Bay side. On traversing this we found it to be interrupted by broad +valleys or gullies, which become the hollows in the bank when the sea has worn +up to them. They are commonly at right angles with the shore, and often extend +quite across the Cape. Some of the valleys, however, are circular, a hundred +feet deep without any outlet, as if the Cape had sunk in those places, or its +sands had run out. The few scattered houses which we passed, being placed at +the bottom of the hollows for shelter and fertility, were, for the most part, +concealed entirely, as much as if they had been swallowed up in the earth. Even +a village with its meeting-house, which we had left little more than a +stone’s throw behind, had sunk into the earth, spire and all, and we saw +only the surface of the upland and the sea on either hand. When approaching it, +we had mistaken the belfry for a summer-house on the plain. We began to think +that we might tumble into a village before we were aware of it, as into an +ant-lion’s hole, and be drawn into the sand irrecoverably. The most +conspicuous objects on the land were a distant windmill, or a meeting-house +standing alone, for only they could afford to occupy an exposed place. A great +part of the township, however, is a barren, heath-like plain, and perhaps one +third of it lies in common, though the property of individuals. The author of +the old “Description of Truro,” speaking of the soil, says: +“The snow, which would be of essential service to it provided it lay +level and covered the ground, is blown into drifts and into the sea.” +This peculiar open country, with here and there a patch of shrubbery, extends +as much as seven miles, or from Pamet River on the south to High Head on the +north, and from Ocean to Bay. To walk over it makes on a stranger such an +impression as being at sea, and he finds it impossible to estimate distances in +any weather. A windmill or a herd of cows may seem to be far away in the +horizon, yet, after going a few rods, he will be close upon them. He is also +deluded by other kinds of mirage. When, in the summer, I saw a family +a-blueberrying a mile off, walking about amid the dwarfish bushes which did not +come up higher than their ankles, they seemed to me to be a race of giants, +twenty feet high at least. +</p> + +<p> +The highest and sandiest portion next the Atlantic was thinly covered with +Beach-grass and Indigo-weed. Next to this the surface of the upland generally +consisted of white sand and gravel, like coarse salt, through which a scanty +vegetation found its way up. It will give an ornithologist some idea of its +barrenness if I mention that the next June, the month of grass, I found a +night-hawk’s eggs there, and that almost any square rod thereabouts, +taken at random, would be an eligible site for such a deposit. The +kildeer-plover, which loves a similar locality, also drops its eggs there, and +fills the air above with its din. This upland also produced <i>Cladonia</i> +lichens, poverty-grass, savory-leaved aster (<i>Diplopappus linariifolius</i>), +mouse-ear, bear-berry, &c. On a few hillsides the savory-leaved aster and +mouse-ear alone made quite a dense sward, said to be very pretty when the aster +is in bloom. In some parts the two species of poverty-grass (<i>Hudsonia +tomentosa</i> and <i>ericoides</i>), which deserve a better name, reign for +miles in littli hemispherical tufts or islets, like moss, scattered over the +waste. They linger in bloom there till the middle of July. Occasionally near +the beach these rounded beds, as also those of the sea-sandwort (<i>Honkenya +peploides</i>), were filled with sand within an inch of their tops, and were +hard, like large ant-hills, while the surrounding sand was soft. In summer, if +the poverty-grass grows at the head of a Hollow looking toward the sea, in a +bleak position where the wind rushes up, the northern or exposed half of the +tuft is sometimes all black and dead like an oven-broom, while the opposite +half is yellow with blossoms, the whole hillside thus presenting a remarkable +contrast when seen from the poverty-stricken and the flourishing side. This +plant, which in many places would be esteemed an ornament, is here despised by +many on account of its being associated with barrenness. It might well be +adopted for the Barnstable coat-of-arms, in a field <i>sableux</i>. I should be +proud of it. Here and there were tracts of Beach-grass mingled with the +Sea-side Goldenrod and Beach-pea, which reminded us still more forcibly of the +ocean. +</p> + +<div class="fig" style="width: 500px;"> +<a name="illus20"></a> +<img src="images/truromeet.jpg" width="500" height="325" alt="Truro meeting-house on the hill" title="" /> +<p class="caption">Truro meeting-house on the hill</p> +</div> + +<p> +We read that there was not a brook in Truro. Yet there were deer here once, +which must often have panted in vain; but I am pretty sure that I afterward saw +a small fresh-water brook emptying into the south side of Pamet River, though I +was so heedless as not to taste it. At any rate, a little boy near by told me +that he drank at it. There was not a tree as far as we could see, and that was +many miles each way, the general level of the upland being about the same +everywhere. Even from the Atlantic side we overlooked the Bay, and saw to +Manomet Point in Plymouth, and better from that side because it was the +highest. The almost universal bareness and smoothness of the landscape were as +agreeable as novel, making it so much the more like the deck of a vessel. We +saw vessels sailing south into the Bay, on the one hand, and north along the +Atlantic shore, on the other, all with an aft wind. +</p> + +<p> +The single road which runs lengthwise the Cape, now winding over the plain, now +through the shrubbery which scrapes the wheels of the stage, was a mere +cart-track in the sand, commonly without any fences to confine it, and +continually changing from this side to that, to harder ground, or sometimes to +avoid the tide. But the inhabitants travel the waste here and there +pilgrim-wise and staff in hand, by narrow footpaths, through which the sand +flows out and reveals the nakedness of the land. We shuddered at the thought of +living there and taking our afternoon walks over those barren swells, where we +could overlook every step of our walk before taking it, and would have to pray +for a fog or a snow-storm to conceal our destiny. The walker there must soon +eat his heart. +</p> + +<p> +In the north part of the town there is no house from shore to shore for several +miles, and it is as wild and solitary as the Western Prairies—used to be. +Indeed, one who has seen every house in Truro will be surprised to hear of the +number of the inhabitants, but perhaps five hundred of the men and boys of this +small town were then abroad on their fishing grounds. Only a few men stay at +home to till the sand or watch for blackfish. The farmers are fishermen-farmers +and understand better ploughing the sea than the land. They do not disturb +their sands much, though there is a plenty of sea-weed in the creeks, to say +nothing of blackfish occasionally rotting the shore. Between the Pond and East +Harbor Village there was an interesting plantation of pitch-pines, twenty or +thirty acres in extent, like those which we had already seen from the stage. +One who lived near said that the land was purchased by two men for a shilling +or twenty-five cents an acre. Some is not considered worth writing a deed for. +This soil or sand, which was partially covered with poverty and beach grass, +sorrel, &c., was furrowed at intervals of about four feet and the seed +dropped by a machine. The pines had come up admirably and grown the first year +three or four inches, and the second six inches and more. Where the seed had +been lately planted the white sand was freshly exposed in an endless furrow +winding round and round the sides of the deep hollows, in a vertical spiral +manner, which produced a very singular effect, as if you were looking into the +reverse side of a vast banded shield. This experiment, so important to the +Cape, appeared very successful, and perhaps the time will come when the greater +part of this kind of land in Barnstable County will be thus covered with an +artificial pine forest, as has been done in some parts of France. In that +country 12,500 acres of downs had been thus covered in 1811 near Bayonne. They +are called <i>pignadas</i>, and according to Loudon “constitute the +principal riches of the inhabitants, where there was a drifting desert +before.” It seemed a nobler kind of grain to raise than corn even. +</p> + +<div class="fig" style="width: 500px;"> +<a name="illus21"></a> +<img src="images/herd.jpg" width="500" height="298" alt="A herd of cows" title="" /> +<p class="caption">A herd of cows</p> +</div> + +<p> +A few years ago Truro was remarkable among the Cape towns for the number of +sheep raised in it; but I was told that at this time only two men kept sheep in +the town, and in 1855, a Truro boy ten years old told me that he had never seen +one. They were formerly pastured on the unfenced lands or general fields, but +now the owners were more particular to assert their rights, and it cost too +much for fencing. The rails are cedar from Maine, and two rails will answer for +ordinary purposes, but four are required for sheep. This was the reason +assigned by one who had formerly kept them for not keeping them any longer. +Fencing stuff is so expensive that I saw fences made with only one rail, and +very often the rail when split was carefully tied with a string. In one of the +villages I saw the next summer a cow tethered by a rope six rods long, the rope +long in proportion as the feed was short and thin. Sixty rods, ay, all the +cables of the Cape, would have been no more than fair. Tethered in the desert +for fear that she would get into Arabia Felix! I helped a man weigh a bundle of +hay which he was selling to his neighbor, holding one end of a pole from which +it swung by a steel-yard hook, and this was just half his whole crop. In short, +the country looked so barren that I several times refrained from asking the +inhabitants for a string or a piece of wrapping-paper, for fear I should rob +them, for they plainly were obliged to import these things as well as rails, +and where there were no newsboys, I did not see what they would do for waste +paper. +</p> + +<p> +The objects around us, the make-shifts of fishermen ashore, often made us look +down to see if we were standing on terra firma. In the wells everywhere a block +and tackle were used to raise the bucket, instead of a windlass, and by almost +every house was laid up a spar or a plank or two full of auger-holes, saved +from a wreck. The windmills were partly built of these, and they were worked +into the public bridges. The light-house keeper, who was having his barn +shingled, told me casually that he had made three thousand good shingles for +that purpose out of a mast. You would sometimes see an old oar used for a rail. +Frequently also some fair-weather finery ripped off a vessel by a storm near +the coast was nailed up against an outhouse. I saw fastened to a shed near the +lighthouse a long new sign with the words “A<small>NGLO</small> +S<small>AXON</small>” on it in large gilt letters, as if it were a +useless part which the ship could afford to lose, or which the sailors had +discharged at the same time with the pilot. But it interested somewhat as if it +had been a part of the Argo, clipped off in passing through the Symplegades. +</p> + +<p> +To the fisherman, the Cape itself is a sort of store-ship laden with +supplies,—a safer and larger craft which carries the women and children, +the old men and the sick; and indeed sea-phrases are as common on it as on +board a vessel. Thus is it ever with a sea-going people. The old Northmen used +to speak of the “keel-ridge” of the country, that is, the ridge of +the Doffrafield Mountains, as if the land were a boat turned bottom up. I was +frequently reminded of the Northmen here. The inhabitants of the Cape are often +at once farmers and sea-rovers; they are more than vikings or kings of the +bays, for their sway extends over the open sea also. A farmer in Wellfleet, at +whose house I afterward spent a night, who had raised fifty bushels of potatoes +the previous year, which is a large crop for the Cape, and had extensive +salt-works, pointed to his schooner, which lay in sight, in which he and his +man and boy occasionally ran down the coast a-trading as far as the Capes of +Virginia. This was his market-cart, and his hired man knew how to steer her. +Thus he drove two teams a-field, +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +“ere the high <i>seas</i> appeared<br/> +Under the opening eyelids of the morn.” +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> +Though probably he would not hear much of the “gray fly” on his way +to Virginia. +</p> + +<p> +A great proportion of the inhabitants of the Cape are always thus abroad about +their teaming on some ocean highway or other, and the history of one of their +ordinary trips would cast the Argonautic expedition into the shade. I have just +heard of a Cape Cod captain who was expected home in the beginning of the +winter from the West Indies, but was long since given up for lost, till his +relations at length have heard with joy, that, after getting within forty miles +of Cape Cod light, he was driven back by nine successive gales to Key West, +between Florida and Cuba, and was once again shaping his course for home. Thus +he spent his winter. In ancient times the adventures of these two or three men +and boys would have been made the basis of a myth, but now such tales are +crowded into a line of shorthand signs, like an algebraic formula in the +shipping news. “Wherever over the world,” said Palfrey in his +oration at Barnstable, “you see the stars and stripes floating, you may +have good hope that beneath them some one will be found who can tell you the +soundings of Barnstable, or Wellfleet, or Chatham Harbor.” +</p> + +<p> +I passed by the home of somebody’s (or everybody’s) Uncle Bill, one +day over on the Plymouth shore. It was a schooner half keeled-up on the mud: we +aroused the master out of a sound sleep at noonday, by thumping on the bottom +of his vessel till he presented himself at the hatchway, for we wanted to +borrow his clam-digger. Meaning to make him a call, I looked out the next +morning, and lo! he had run over to “the Pines” the evening before, +fearing an easterly storm. He outrode the <i>great</i> gale in the spring of +1851, dashing about alone in Plymouth Bay. He goes after rockweed, lighters +vessels, and saves wrecks. I still saw him lying in the mud over at “the +Pines” in the horizon, which place he could not leave if he would till +flood tide. But he would not then probably. This waiting for the tide is a +singular feature in life by the sea-shore. A frequent answer is, “Well! +you can’t start for two hours yet.” It is something new to a +landsman, and at first he is not disposed to wait. History says that “two +inhabitants of Truro were the first who adventured to the Falkland Isles in +pursuit of whales. This voyage was undertaken in the year 1774, by the advice +of Admiral Montague of the British navy, and was crowned with success.” +</p> + +<p> +At the Pond Village we saw a pond three eighths of a mile long densely filled +with cat-tail flags, seven feet high,—enough for all the coopers in New +England. +</p> + +<div class="fig" style="width: 500px;"> +<a name="illus22"></a> +<img src="images/pondvillage.jpg" width="500" height="326" alt="Pond Village" title="" /> +<p class="caption">Pond Village</p> +</div> + +<p> +The western shore was nearly as sandy as the eastern, but the water was much +smoother, and the bottom was partially covered with the slender grass-like +seaweed (<i>Zostera</i>), which we had not seen on the Atlantic side; there +were also a few rude sheds for trying fish on the beach there, which made it +appear less wild. In the few marshes on this side we afterward saw Samphire, +Rosemary, and other plants new to us inlanders. +</p> + +<p> +In the summer and fall sometimes, hundreds of blackfish (the Social Whale, +<i>Globicephalus Melas</i> of De Kay; called also Black Whale-fish, Howling +Whale, Bottlehead, etc.), fifteen feet or more in length, are driven ashore in +a single school here. I witnessed such a scene in July, 1855. A carpenter who +was working at the lighthouse arriving early in the morning remarked that he +did not know but he had lost fifty dollars by coming to his work; for as he +came along the Bay side he heard them driving a school of blackfish ashore, and +he had debated with himself whether he should not go and join them and take his +share, but had concluded to come to his work. After breakfast I came over to +this place, about two miles distant, and near the beach met some of the +fishermen returning from their chase. Looking up and down the shore, I could +see about a mile south some large black masses on the sand, which I knew must +be blackfish, and a man or two about them. As I walked along towards them I +soon came to a huge carcass whose head was gone and whose blubber had been +stripped off some weeks before; the tide was just beginning to move it, and the +stench compelled me to go a long way round. When I came to Great Hollow I found +a fisherman and some boys on the watch, and counted about thirty blackfish, +just killed, with many lance wounds, and the water was more or less bloody +around. They were partly on shore and partly in the water, held by a rope round +their tails till the tide should leave them. A boat had been somewhat stove by +the tail of one. They were a smooth shining black, like India-rubber, and had +remarkably simple and lumpish forms for animated creatures, with a blunt round +snout or head, whale-like, and simple stiff-looking flippers. The largest were +about fifteen feet long, but one or two were only five feet long, and still +without teeth. The fisherman slashed one with his jackknife, to show me how +thick the blubber was,—about three inches; and as I passed my finger +through the cut it was covered thick with oil. The blubber looked like pork, +and this man said that when they were trying it the boys would sometimes come +round with a piece of bread in one hand, and take a piece of blubber in the +other to eat with it, preferring it to pork scraps. He also cut into the flesh +beneath, which was firm and red like beef, and he said that for his part he +preferred it when fresh to beef. It is stated that in 1812 blackfish were used +as food by the poor of Bretagne. They were waiting for the tide to leave these +fishes high and dry, that they might strip off the blubber and carry it to +their try-works in their boats, where they try it on the beach. They get +commonly a barrel of oil, worth fifteen or twenty dollars, to a fish. There +were many lances and harpoons in the boats,—much slenderer instruments +than I had expected. An old man came along the beach with a horse and wagon +distributing the dinners of the fishermen, which their wives had put up in +little pails and jugs, and which he had collected in the Pond Village, and for +this service, I suppose, he received a share of the oil. If one could not tell +his own pail, he took the first he came to. +</p> + +<p> +As I stood there they raised the cry of “another school,” and we +could see their black backs and their blowing about a mile northward, as they +went leaping over the sea like horses. Some boats were already in pursuit +there, driving them toward the beach. Other fishermen and boys running up began +to jump into the boats and push them off from where I stood, and I might have +gone too had I chosen. Soon there were twenty-five or thirty boats in pursuit, +some large ones under sail, and others rowing with might and main, keeping +outside of the school, those nearest to the fishes striking on the sides of +their boats and blowing horns to drive them on to the beach. It was an exciting +race. If they succeed in driving them ashore each boat takes one share, and +then each man, but if they are compelled to strike them off shore each +boat’s company take what they strike. I walked rapidly along the shore +toward the north, while the fishermen were rowing still more swiftly to join +their companions, and a little boy who walked by my side was congratulating +himself that his father’s boat was beating another one. An old blind +fisherman whom we met, inquired, “Where are they? I can’t see. Have +they got them?” In the mean while the fishes had turned and were escaping +northward toward Provincetown, only occasionally the back of one being seen. So +the nearest crews were compelled to strike them, and we saw several boats soon +made fast, each to its fish, which, four or five rods ahead, was drawing it +like a race-horse straight toward the beach, leaping half out of water, blowing +blood and water from its hole, and leaving a streak of foam behind. But they +went ashore too far north for us, though we could see the fishermen leap out +and lance them on the sand. It was just like pictures of whaling which I have +seen, and a fisherman told me that it was nearly as dangerous. In his first +trial he had been much excited, and in his haste had used a lance with its +scabbard on, but nevertheless had thrust it quite through his fish. +</p> + +<p> +I learned that a few days before this one hundred and eighty blackfish had been +driven ashore in one school at Eastham, a little farther south, and that the +keeper of Billingsgate Point light went out one morning about the same time and +cut his initials on the backs of a large school which had run ashore in the +night, and sold his right to them to Provincetown for one thousand dollars, and +probably Provincetown made as much more. Another fisherman told me that +nineteen years ago three hundred and eighty were driven ashore in one school at +Great Hollow. In the Naturalists’ Library, it is said that, in the winter +of 1809-10, one thousand one hundred and ten “approached the shore of +Hralfiord, Iceland, and were captured.” De Kay says it is not known why +they are stranded. But one fisherman declared to me that they ran ashore in +pursuit of squid, and that they generally came on the coast about the last of +July. +</p> + +<p> +About a week afterward, when I came to this shore, it was strewn, as far as I +could see with a glass, with the carcasses of blackfish stripped of their +blubber and their heads cut off; the latter lying higher up. Walking on the +beach was out of the question on account of the stench. Between Provincetown +and Truro they lay in the very path of the stage. Yet no steps were taken to +abate the nuisance, and men were catching lobsters as usual just off the shore. +I was told that they did sometimes tow them out and sink them; yet I wondered +where they got the stones to sink them with. Of course they might be made into +guano, and Cape Cod is not so fertile that her inhabitants can afford to do +without this manure,—to say nothing of the diseases they may produce. +</p> + +<p> +After my return home, wishing to learn what was known about the Blackfish, I +had recourse to the reports of the zoological surveys of the State, and I found +that Storer had rightfully omitted it in his Report on the Fishes, since it is +not a fish; so I turned to Emmons’s Report of the Mammalia, but was +surprised to find that the seals and whales were omitted by him, because he had +had no opportunity to observe them. Considering how this State has risen and +thriven by its fisheries,—that the legislature which authorized the +Zoological Survey sat under the emblem of a codfish,—that Nantucket and +New Bedford are within our limits,—that an early riser may find a +thousand or fifteen hundred dollars’ worth of blackfish on the shore in a +morning,—that the Pilgrims saw the Indians cutting up a blackfish on the +shore at Eastham, and called a part of that shore “Grampus Bay,” +from the number of blackfish they found there, before they got to +Plymouth,—and that from that time to this these fishes have continued to +enrich one or two counties almost annually, and that their decaying carcasses +were now poisoning the air of one county for more than thirty miles,—I +thought it remarkable that neither the popular nor scientific name was to be +found in a report on our mammalia,—a catalogue of the productions of our +land and water. +</p> + +<p> +We had here, as well as all across the Cape, a fair view of Provincetown, five +or six miles distant over the water toward the west, under its shrubby +sand-hills, with its harbor now full of vessels whose masts mingled with the +spires of its churches, and gave it the appearance of a quite large seaport +town. +</p> + +<p> +The inhabitants of all the lower Cape towns enjoy thus the prospect of two +seas. Standing on the western or larboard shore, and looking across to where +the distant mainland looms, they can say, This is Massachusetts Bay; and then, +after an hour’s sauntering walk, they may stand on the starboard side, +beyond which no land is seen to loom, and say, This is the Atlantic Ocean. +</p> + +<p> +On our way back to the lighthouse, by whose white-washed tower we steered as +securely as the mariner by its light at night, we passed through a graveyard, +which apparently was saved from being blown away by its slates, for they had +enabled a thick bed of huckleberry-bushes to root themselves amid the graves. +We thought it would be worth the while to read the epitaphs where so many were +lost at sea; however, as not only their lives, but commonly their bodies also, +were lost or not identified, there were fewer epitaphs of this sort than we +expected, though there were not a few. Their graveyard is the ocean. Near the +eastern side we started up a fox in a hollow, the only kind of wild quadruped, +if I except a skunk in a salt-marsh, that we saw in all our walk (unless +painted and box tortoises may be called quadrupeds). He was a large, plump, +shaggy fellow, like a yellow dog, with, as usual, a white tip to his tail, and +looked as if he fared well on the Cape. He cantered away into the shrub-oaks +and bayberry-bushes which chanced to grow there, but were hardly high enough to +conceal him. I saw another the next summer leaping over the top of a beach-plum +a little farther north, a small arc of his course (which I trust is not yet +run), from which I endeavored in vain to calculate his whole orbit: there were +too many unknown attractions to be allowed for. I also saw the exuviae of a +third fast sinking into the sand, and added the skull to my collection. Hence I +concluded that they must be plenty thereabouts; but a traveller may meet with +more than an inhabitant, since he is more likely to take an unfrequented route +across the country. They told me that in some years they died off in great +numbers by a kind of madness, under the effect of which they were seen whirling +round and round as if in pursuit of their tails. In Crantz’s account of +Greenland, he says: “They (the foxes) live upon birds and their eggs, +and, when they can’t get them, upon crowberries, mussels, crabs, and what +the sea casts out.” +</p> + +<p> +Just before reaching the light-house, we saw the sun set in the Bay,—for +standing on that narrow Cape was, as I have said, like being on the deck of a +vessel, or rather at the masthead of a man-of-war, thirty miles at sea, though +we knew that at the same moment the sun was setting behind our native hills, +which were just below the horizon in that direction. This sight drove +everything else quite out of our heads, and Homer and the Ocean came in again +with a rush,— +</p> + +<p class="letter"> +Ἐν δ’ ἔπεσ’ +Ὠκεανῷ +λαμπρὸν φάος +ἠελίοιο, +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> +the shining torch of the sun fell into the ocean. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap08"></a>VIII<br/> +THE HIGHLAND LIGHT</h2> + +<p> +This light-house, known to mariners as the Cape Cod or Highland Light, is one +of our “primary sea-coast lights,” and is usually the first seen by +those approaching the entrance of Massachusetts Bay from Europe. It is +forty-three miles from Cape Ann Light, and forty-one from Boston Light. It +stands about twenty rods from the edge of the bank, which is here formed of +clay. I borrowed the plane and square, level and dividers, of a carpenter who +was shingling a barn near by, and using one of those shingles made of a mast, +contrived a rude sort of quadrant, with pins for sights and pivots, and got the +angle of elevation of the Bank opposite the light-house, and with a couple of +cod-lines the length of its slope, and so measured its height on the shingle. +It rises one hundred and ten feet above its immediate base, or about one +hundred and twenty-three feet above mean low water. Graham, who has carefully +surveyed the extremity of the Cape, makes it one hundred and thirty feet. The +mixed sand and clay lay at an angle of forty degrees with the horizon, where I +measured it, but the clay is generally much steeper. No cow nor hen ever gets +down it. Half a mile farther south the bank is fifteen or twenty-five feet +higher, and that appeared to be the highest land in North Truro. Even this vast +clay bank is fast wearing away. Small streams of water trickling down it at +intervals of two or three rods, have left the intermediate clay in the form of +steep Gothic roofs fifty feet high or more, the ridges as sharp and +rugged-looking as rocks; and in one place the bank is curiously eaten out in +the form of a large semicircular crater. +</p> + +<div class="fig" style="width: 500px;"> +<a name="illus23"></a> +<img src="images/dragging.jpg" width="500" height="300" alt="Dragging a dory up on the beach" title="" /> +<p class="caption">Dragging a dory up on the beach</p> +</div> + +<p> +According to the light-house keeper, the Cape is wasting here on both sides, +though most on the eastern. In some places it had lost many rods within the +last year, and, erelong, the light-house must be moved. We calculated, <i>from +his data</i>, how soon the Cape would be quite worn away at this point, +“for,” said he, “I can remember sixty years back.” We +were even more surprised at this last announcement,—that is, at the slow +waste of life and energy in our informant, for we had taken him to be not more +than forty,—than at the rapid wasting of the Cape, and we thought that he +stood a fair chance to outlive the former. +</p> + +<p> +Between this October and June of the next year I found that the bank had lost +about forty feet in one place, opposite the light-house, and it was cracked +more than forty feet farther from the edge at the last date, the shore being +strewn with the recent rubbish. But I judged that generally it was not wearing +away here at the rate of more than six feet annually. Any conclusions drawn +from the observations of a few years or one generation only are likely to prove +false, and the Cape may balk expectation by its durability. In some places even +a wrecker’s foot-path down the bank lasts several years. One old +inhabitant told us that when the light-house was built, in 1798, it was +calculated that it would stand forty-five years, allowing the bank to waste one +length of fence each year, “but,” said he, “there it +is” (or rather another near the same site, about twenty rods from the +edge of the bank). +</p> + +<p> +The sea is not gaining on the Cape everywhere, for one man told me of a vessel +wrecked long ago on the north of Provincetown whose “bones” (this +was his word) are still visible many rods within the present line of the beach, +half buried in sand. Perchance they lie alongside the timbers of a whale. The +general statement of the inhabitants is that the Cape is wasting on both sides, +but extending itself on particular points on the south and west, as at Chatham +and Monomoy Beaches, and at Billingsgate, Long, and Race Points. James Freeman +stated in his day that above three miles had been added to Monomoy Beach during +the previous fifty years, and it is said to be still extending as fast as ever. +A writer in the Massachusetts Magazine, in the last century, tells us that +“when the English first settled upon the Cape, there was an island off +Chatham, at three leagues’ distance, called Webbs’ Island, +containing twenty acres, covered with red-cedar or savin. The inhabitants of +Nantucket used to carry wood from it”; but he adds that in his day a +large rock alone marked the spot, and the water was six fathoms deep there. The +entrance to Nauset Harbor, which was once in Eastham, has now travelled south +into Orleans. The islands in Wellfleet Harbor once formed a continuous beach, +though now small vessels pass between them. And so of many other parts of this +coast. +</p> + +<p> +Perhaps what the Ocean takes from one part of the Cape it gives to +another,—robs Peter to pay Paul. On the eastern side the sea appears to +be everywhere encroaching on the land. Not only the land is undermined, and its +ruins carried off by currents, but the sand is blown from the beach directly up +the steep bank where it is one hundred and fifty feet high, and covers the +original surface there many feet deep. If you sit on the edge you will have +ocular demonstration of this by soon getting your eyes full. Thus the bank +preserves its height as fast as it is worn away. This sand is steadily +travelling westward at a rapid rate, “more than a hundred yards,” +says one writer, within the memory of inhabitants now living; so that in some +places peat-meadows are buried deep under the sand, and the peat is cut through +it; and in one place a large peat-meadow has made its appearance on the shore +in the bank covered many feet deep, and peat has been cut there. This accounts +for that great pebble of peat which we saw in the surf. The old oysterman had +told us that many years ago he lost a “crittur” by her being mired +in a swamp near the Atlantic side east of his house, and twenty years ago he +lost the swamp itself entirely, but has since seen signs of it appearing on the +beach. He also said that he had seen cedar stumps “as big as +cart-wheels”(!) on the bottom of the Bay, three miles off Billingsate +Point, when leaning over the side of his boat in pleasant weather, and that +that was dry land not long ago. Another told us that a log canoe known to have +been buried many years before on the Bay side at East Harbor in Truro, where +the Cape is extremely narrow, appeared at length on the Atlantic side, the Cape +having rolled over it, and an old woman said,—“Now, you see, it is +true what I told you, that the Cape is moving.” +</p> + +<p> +The bars along the coast shift with every storm, and in many places there is +occasionally none at all. We ourselves observed the effect of a single storm +with a high tide in the night, in July, 1855. It moved the sand on the beach +opposite the light-house to the depth of six feet, and three rods in width as +far as we could see north and south, and carried it bodily off no one knows +exactly where, laying bare in one place a large rock five feet high which was +invisible before, and narrowing the beach to that extent. There is usually, as +I have said, no bathing on the back-side of the Cape, on account of the +undertow, but when we were there last, the sea had, three months before, cast +up a bar near this lighthouse, two miles long and ten rods wide, over which the +tide did not flow, leaving a narrow cove, then a quarter of a mile long, +between it and the shore, which afforded excellent bathing. This cove had from +time to time been closed up as the bar travelled northward, in one instance +imprisoning four or five hundred whiting and cod, which died there, and the +water as often turned fresh, and finally gave place to sand. This bar, the +inhabitants assured us, might be wholly removed, and the water six feet deep +there in two or three days. +</p> + +<p> +The light-house keeper said that when the wind blowed strong on to the shore, +the waves ate fast into the bank, but when it blowed off they took no sand +away; for in the former case the wind heaped up the surface of the water next +to the beach, and to preserve its equilibrium a strong undertow immediately set +back again into the sea which carried with it the sand and whatever else was in +the way, and left the beach hard to walk on; but in the latter case the +undertow set on and carried the sand with it, so that it was particularly +difficult for shipwrecked men to get to land when the wind blowed on to the +shore, but easier when it blowed off. This undertow, meeting the next surface +wave on the bar which itself has made, forms part of the dam over which the +latter breaks, as over an upright wall. The sea thus plays with the land +holding a sand-bar in its mouth awhile before it swallows it, as a cat plays +with a mouse; but the fatal gripe is sure to come at last. The sea sends its +rapacious east wind to rob the land, but before the former has got far with its +prey, the land sends its honest west wind to recover some of its own. But, +according to Lieutenant Davis, the forms, extent, and distribution of sand-bars +and banks are principally determined, not by winds and waves but by tides. +</p> + +<p> +Our host said that you would be surprised if you were on the beach when the +wind blew a hurricane directly on to it, to see that none of the drift-wood +came ashore, but all was carried directly northward and parallel with the shore +as fast as a man can walk, by the inshore current, which sets strongly in that +direction at flood tide. The strongest swimmers also are carried along with it, +and never gain an inch toward the beach. Even a large rock has been moved half +a mile northward along-the beach. He assured us that the sea was never still on +the back-side of the Cape, but ran commonly as high as your head, so that a +great part of the time you could not launch a boat there, and even in the +calmest weather the waves run six or eight feet up the beach, though then you +could get off on a plank. Champlain and Pourtrincourt could not land here in +1606, on account of the swell (<i>la houlle</i>), yet the savages came off to +them in a canoe. In the Sieur de la Borde’s “Relation des +Caraibes,” my edition of which was published at Amsterdam in 1711, at +page 530 he says:— +</p> + +<p> +“Couroumon a Caraibe, also a star [<i>i.e.</i> a god], makes the great +<i>lames à la mer</i>, and overturns canoes. <i>Lames à la mer</i> are the long +<i>vagues</i> which are not broken (<i>entrecoupées</i>), and such as one sees +come to land all in one piece, from one end of a beach to another, so that, +however little wind there may be, a shallop or a canoe could hardly land +(<i>aborder terre</i>) without turning over, or being filled with water.” +</p> + +<p> +But on the Bay side the water even at its edge is often as smooth and still as +in a pond. Commonly there are no boats used along this beach. There was a boat +belonging to the Highland Light which the next keeper after he had been there a +year had not launched, though he said that there was good fishing just off the +shore. Generally the Life Boats cannot be used when needed. When the waves run +very high it is impossible to get a boat off, however skilfully you steer it, +for it will often be completely covered by the curving edge of the approaching +breaker as by an arch, and so filled with water, or it will be lifted up by its +bows, turned directly over backwards, and all the contents spilled out. A spar +thirty feet long is served in the same way. +</p> + +<p> +I heard of a party who went off fishing back of Wellfleet some years ago, in +two boats, in calm weather, who, when they had laden their boats with fish, and +approached the land again, found such a swell breaking on it, though there was +no wind, that they were afraid to enter it. At first they thought to pull for +Provincetown, but night was coming on, and that was many miles distant. Their +case seemed a desperate one. As often as they approached the shore and saw the +terrible breakers that intervened, they were deterred. In short, they were +thoroughly frightened. Finally, having thrown their fish overboard, those in +one boat chose a favorable opportunity, and succeeded, by skill and good luck, +in reaching the land, but they were unwilling to take the responsibility of +telling the others when to come in, and as the other helmsman was +inexperienced, their boat was swamped at once, yet all managed to save +themselves. +</p> + +<p> +Much smaller waves soon make a boat “nail-sick,” as the phrase is. +The keeper said that after a long and strong blow there would be three large +waves, each successively larger than the last, and then no large ones for some +time, and that, when they wished to land in a boat, they came in on the last +and largest wave. Sir Thomas Browne (as quoted in Brand’s Popular +Antiquities, p. 372), on the subject of the tenth wave being “greater or +more dangerous than any other,” after quoting Ovid,— +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +“Qui venit hic fluctus, fluctus supereminet omnes<br/> +Posterior nono est, undecimo que prior,”— +</p> + +<p> +says, “Which, notwithstanding, is evidently false; nor can it be made out +either by observation either upon the shore or the ocean, as we have with +diligence explored in both. And surely in vain we expect regularity in the +waves of the sea, or in the particular motions thereof, as we may in its +general reciprocations, whose causes are constant, and effects therefore +correspondent; whereas its fluctuations are but motions subservient, which +winds, storms, shores, shelves, and every interjacency, irregulates.” +</p> + +<p> +We read that the Clay Pounds, were so called “because vessels have had +the misfortune to be pounded against it in gales of wind,” which we +regard as a doubtful derivation. There are small ponds here, upheld by the +clay, which were formerly called the Clay Pits. Perhaps this, or Clay Ponds, is +the origin of the name. Water is found in the clay quite near the surface; but +we heard of one man who had sunk a well in the sand close by, “till he +could see stars at noonday,” without finding any. Over this bare Highland +the wind has full sweep. Even in July it blows the wings over the heads of the +young turkeys, which do not know enough to head against it; and in gales the +doors and windows are blown in, and you must hold on to the lighthouse to +prevent being blown into the Atlantic. They who merely keep out on the beach in +a storm in the winter are sometimes rewarded by the Humane Society. If you +would feel the full force of a tempest, take up your residence on the top of +Mount Washington, or at the Highland Light, in Truro. +</p> + +<p> +It was said in 1794 that more vessels were cast away on the east shore of Truro +than anywhere in Barnstable County. Notwithstanding that this light-house has +since been erected, after almost every storm we read of one or more vessels +wrecked here, and sometimes more than a dozen wrecks are visible from this +point at one time. The inhabitants hear the crash of vessels going to pieces as +they sit round their hearths, and they commonly date from some memorable +shipwreck. If the history of this beach could be written from beginning to end, +it would be a thrilling page in the history of commerce. +</p> + +<p> +Truro was settled in the year 1700 as <i>Dangerfield</i>. This was a very +appropriate name, for I afterward read on a monument in the graveyard, near +Pamet River, the following inscription:— +</p> + +<p class="center"> +Sacred<br/> +to the memory of<br/> +57 citizens of Truro,<br/> +who were lost in seven<br/> +vessels, which<br/> +foundered at sea in<br/> +the memorable gale<br/> +of Oct. 3d, 1841. +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> +Their names and ages by families were recorded on different sides of the stone. +They are said to have been lost on George’s Bank, and I was told that +only one vessel drifted ashore on the backside of the Cape, with the boys +locked into the cabin and drowned. It is said that the homes of all were +“within a circuit of two miles.” Twenty-eight inhabitants of Dennis +were lost in the same gale; and I read that “in one day, immediately +after this storm, nearly or quite one hundred bodies were taken up and buried +on Cape Cod.” The Truro Insurance Company failed for want of skippers to +take charge of its vessels. But the surviving inhabitants went a-fishing again +the next year as usual. I found that it would not do to speak of shipwrecks +there, for almost every family has lost some of its members at sea. “Who +lives in that house?” I inquired. “Three widows,” was the +reply. The stranger and the inhabitant view the shore with very different eyes. +The former may have come to see and admire the ocean in a storm; but the latter +looks on it as the scene where his nearest relatives were wrecked. When I +remarked to an old wrecker partially blind, who was sitting on the edge of the +bank smoking a pipe, which he had just lit with a match of dried beach-grass, +that I supposed he liked to hear the sound of the surf, he answered: “No, +I do not like to hear the sound of the surf.” He had lost at least one +son in “the memorable gale,” and could tell many a tale of the +shipwrecks which he had witnessed there. +</p> + +<p> +In the year 1717, a noted pirate named Bellamy was led on to the bar off +Wellfleet by the captain of a <i>snow</i> which he had taken, to whom he had +offered his vessel again if he would pilot him into Provincetown Harbor. +Tradition says that the latter threw over a burning tar-barrel in the night, +which drifted ashore, and the pirates followed it. A storm coming on, their +whole fleet was wrecked, and more than a hundred dead bodies lay along the +shore. Six who escaped shipwreck were executed. “At times to this +day” (1793), says the historian of Wellfleet, “there are King +William and Queen Mary’s coppers picked up, and pieces of silver called +cob-money. The violence of the seas moves the sands on the outer bar, so that +at times the iron caboose of the ship [that is, Bellamy’s] at low ebbs +has been seen.” Another tells us that, “For many years after this +shipwreck, a man of a very singular and frightful aspect used every spring and +autumn to be seen travelling on the Cape, who was supposed to have been one of +Bellamy’s crew. The presumption is that he went to some place where money +had been secreted by the pirates, to get such a supply as his exigencies +required. When he died, many pieces of gold were found in a girdle which he +constantly wore.” +</p> + +<div class="fig" style="width: 281px;"> +<a name="illus24"></a> +<img src="images/wrecker.jpg" width="281" height="450" alt="An old wrecker at home" title="" /> +<p class="caption">An old wrecker at home</p> +</div> + +<p> +As I was walking on the beach here in my last visit, looking for shells and +pebbles, just after that storm, which I have mentioned as moving the sand to a +great depth, not knowing but I might find some cob-money, I did actually pick +up a French crown piece, worth about a dollar and six cents, near high-water +mark, on the still moist sand, just under the abrupt, caving base of the bank. +It was of a dark slate color, and looked like a flat pebble, but still bore a +very distinct and handsome head of Louis XV., and the usual legend on the +reverse. <i>Sit Nomen Domini Benedictum</i> (Blessed be the Name of the Lord), +a pleasing sentiment to read in the sands of the sea-shore, whatever it might +be stamped on, and I also made out the date, 1741. Of course, I thought at +first that it was that same old button which I have found so many times, but my +knife soon showed the silver. Afterward, rambling on the bars at low tide, I +cheated my companion by holding up round shells (<i>Scutellæ</i>) between my +fingers, whereupon he quickly stripped and came off to me. +</p> + +<p> +In the Revolution, a British ship of war called the Somerset was wrecked near +the Clay Pounds, and all on board, some hundreds in number, were taken +prisoners. My informant said that he had never seen any mention of this in the +histories, but that at any rate he knew of a silver watch, which one of those +prisoners by accident left there, which was still going to tell the story. But +this event is noticed by some writers. +</p> + +<p> +The next summer I saw a sloop from Chatham dragging for anchors and chains just +off this shore. She had her boats out at the work while she shuffled about on +various tacks, and, when anything was found, drew up to hoist it on board. It +is a singular employment, at which men are regularly hired and paid for their +industry, to hunt to-day in pleasant weather for anchors which have been +lost,—the sunken faith and hope of mariners, to which they trusted in +vain; now, perchance, it is the rusty one of some old pirate’s ship or +Norman fisherman, whose cable parted here two hundred years ago; and now the +best bower anchor of a Canton or a California ship, which has gone about her +business. If the roadsteads of the spiritual ocean could be thus dragged, what +rusty flukes of hope deceived and parted chain-cables of faith might again be +windlassed aboard! enough to sink the finder’s craft, or stock new navies +to the end of time. The bottom of the sea is strewn with anchors, some deeper +and some shallower, and alternately covered and uncovered by the sand, +perchance with a small length of iron cable still attached,—to which +where is the other end? So many unconcluded tales to be continued another time. +So, if we had diving-bells adapted to the spiritual deeps, we should see +anchors with their cables attached, as thick as eels in vinegar, all wriggling +vainly toward their holding-ground. But that is not treasure for us which +another man has lost; rather it is for us to seek what no other man has found +or can find,—not be Chatham men, dragging for anchors. +</p> + +<p> +The annals of this voracious beach! who could write them, unless it were a +shipwrecked sailor? How many who have seen it have seen it only in the midst of +danger and distress, the last strip of earth which their mortal eyes beheld. +Think of the amount of suffering which a single strand has witnessed. The +ancients would have represented it as a sea-monster with open jaws, more +terrible than Scylla and Charybdis. An inhabitant of Truro told me that about a +fortnight after the <i>St. John</i> was wrecked at Cohasset he found two bodies +on the shore at the Clay Pounds. They were those of a man, and a corpulent +woman. The man had thick boots on, though his head was off, but “it was +alongside.” It took the finder some weeks to get over the sight. Perhaps +they were man and wife, and whom God had joined the ocean currents had not put +asunder. Yet by what slight accidents at first may they have been associated in +their drifting. Some of the bodies of those passengers were picked up far out +at sea, boxed up and sunk; some brought ashore and buried. There are more +consequences to a shipwreck than the underwriters notice. The Gulf Stream may +return some to their native shores, or drop them in some out-of-the-way cave of +Ocean, where time and the elements will write new riddles with their +bones.—But to return to land again. +</p> + +<p> +In this bank, above the clay, I counted in the summer, two hundred holes of the +Bank Swallow within a space six rods long, and there were at least one thousand +old birds within three times that distance, twittering over the surf. I had +never associated them in my thoughts with the beach before. One little boy who +had been a-birds-nesting had got eighty swallows’ eggs for his share! +Tell it not to the Humane Society. There were many young birds on the clay +beneath, which had tumbled out and died. Also there were many Crow-blackbirds +hopping about in the dry fields, and the Upland Plover were breeding close by +the light-house. The keeper had once cut off one’s wing while mowing, as +she sat on her eggs there. This is also a favorite resort for gunners in the +fall to shoot the Golden Plover. As around the shores of a pond are seen +devil’s-needles, butterflies, etc., so here, to my surprise, I saw at the +same season great devil’s-needles of a size proportionably larger, or +nearly as big as my finger, incessantly coasting up and down the edge of the +bank, and butterflies also were hovering over it, and I never saw so many +dorr-bugs and beetles of various kinds as strewed the beach. They had +apparently flown over the bank in the night, and could not get up again, and +some had perhaps fallen into the sea and were washed ashore. They may have been +in part attracted by the light-house lamps. +</p> + +<p> +The Clay Pounds are a more fertile tract than usual. We saw some fine patches +of roots and corn here. As generally on the Cape, the plants had little stalk +or leaf, but ran remarkably to seed. The corn was hardly more than half as high +as in the interior, yet the ears were large and full, and one farmer told us +that he could raise forty bushels on an acre without manure, and sixty with it. +The heads of the rye also were remarkably large. The Shadbush +(<i>Amelanchier</i>), Beach Plums, and Blueberries (<i>Vaccinium +Pennsylvanicum</i>), like the apple-trees and oaks, were very dwarfish, +spreading over the sand, but at the same time very fruitful. The blueberry was +but an inch or two high, and its fruit often rested on the ground, so that you +did not suspect the presence of the bushes, even on those bare hills, until you +were treading on them. I thought that this fertility must be owing mainly to +the abundance of moisture in the atmosphere, for I observed that what little +grass there was was remarkably laden with dew in the morning, and in summer +dense imprisoning fogs frequently last till midday, turning one’s beard +into a wet napkin about his throat, and the oldest inhabitant may lose his way +within a stone’s throw of his house or be obliged to follow the beach for +a guide. The brick house attached to the light-house was exceedingly damp at +that season, and, writing-paper lost all its stiffness in it. It was impossible +to dry your towel after bathing, or to press flowers without their mildewing. +The air was so moist that we rarely wished to drink, though we could at all +times taste the salt on our lips. Salt was rarely used at table, and our host +told us that his cattle invariably refused it when it was offered them, they +got so much with their grass and at every breath, but he said that a sick horse +or one just from the country would sometimes take a hearty draught of salt +water, and seemed to like it and be the better for it. +</p> + +<p> +It was surprising to see how much water was contained in the terminal bud of +the sea-side golden-rod, standing in the sand early in July, and also how +turnips, beets, carrots, etc., flourished even in pure sand. A man travelling +by the shore near there not long before us noticed something green growing in +the pure sand of the beach, just at high-water mark, and on approaching found +it to be a bed of beets flourishing vigorously, probably from seed washed out +of the <i>Franklin</i>. Also beets and turnips came up in the sea-weed used for +manure in many parts of the Cape. This suggests how various plants may have +been dispersed over the world to distant islands and continents. Vessels, with +seeds in their cargoes, destined for particular ports, where perhaps they were +not needed, have been cast away on desolate islands, and though their crews +perished, some of their seeds have been preserved. Out of many kinds a few +would find a soil and climate adapted to them, become naturalized, and perhaps +drive out the native plants at last, and so fit the land for the habitation of +man. It is an ill wind that blows nobody any good, and for the time lamentable +shipwrecks may thus contribute a new vegetable to a continent’s stock, +and prove on the whole a lasting blessing to its inhabitants. Or winds and +currents might effect the same without the intervention of man. What indeed are +the various succulent plants which grow on the beach but such beds of beets and +turnips, sprung originally from seeds which perhaps were cast on the waters for +this end, though we do not know the <i>Franklin</i> which they came out of? In +ancient times some Mr. Bell (?) was sailing this way in his ark with seeds of +rocket, salt-wort, sandwort, beachgrass, samphire, bayberry, poverty-grass, +etc., all nicely labelled with directions, intending to establish a nursery +somewhere; and did not a nursery get established, though he thought that he had +failed? +</p> + +<p> +About the light-house I observed in the summer the pretty <i>Polygala +polygama</i>, spreading ray-wise flat on the ground, white pasture thistles +(<i>Cirsium pumilum</i>), and amid the shrubbery the <i>Smilax glauca</i>, +which is commonly said not to grow so far north; near the edge of the banks +about half a mile southward, the broom crow-berry (<i>Empetrum Conradii</i>), +for which Plymouth is the only locality in Massachusetts usually named, forms +pretty green mounds four or five feet in diameter by one foot high,—soft, +springy beds for the wayfarer. I saw it afterward in Provincetown, but +prettiest of all the scarlet pimpernel, or poor-man’s weather-glass +(<i>Anagallis-arvensis</i>), greets you in fair weather on almost every square +yard of sand. From Yarmouth, I have received the <i>Chrysopsis falcata</i> +(golden aster), and <i>Vaccinium stamineum</i> (Deerberry or Squaw +Huckleberry), with fruit not edible, sometimes as large as a cranberry (Sept. +7). +</p> + +<div class="fig" style="width: 500px;"> +<a name="illus25"></a> +<img src="images/highland.jpg" width="500" height="327" alt="The Highland Light" title="" /> +<p class="caption">The Highland Light</p> +</div> + +<p> +The Highland Light-house,<a href="#linknote-5" +name="linknoteref-5"><sup>[1]</sup></a> where we were staying, is a +substantial-looking building of brick, painted white, and surmounted by an iron +cap. Attached to it is the dwelling of the keeper, one story high, also of +brick, and built by government. As we were going to spend the night in a +light-house, we wished to make the most of so novel an experience, and +therefore told our host that we would like to accompany him when he went to +light up. At rather early candle-light he lighted a small Japan lamp, allowing +it to smoke rather more than we like on ordinary occasions, and told us to +follow him. He led the way first through his bedroom, which was placed nearest +to the light-house, and then through a long, narrow, covered passage-way, +between whitewashed walls like a prison entry, into the lower part of the +light-house, where many great butts of oil were arranged around; thence we +ascended by a winding and open iron stairway, with a steadily increasing scent +of oil and lamp-smoke, to a trap-door in an iron floor, and through this into +the lantern. It was a neat building, with everything in apple-pie order, and no +danger of anything rusting there for want of oil. The light consisted of +fifteen argand lamps, placed within smooth concave reflectors twenty-one inches +in diameter, and arranged in two horizontal circles one above the other, facing +every way excepting directly down the Cape. These were surrounded, at a +distance of two or three feet, by large plate-glass windows, which defied the +storms, with iron sashes, on which rested the iron cap. All the iron work, +except the floor, was painted white. And thus the light-house was completed. We +walked slowly round in that narrow space as the keeper lighted each lamp in +succession, conversing with him at the same moment that many a sailor on the +deep witnessed the lighting of the Highland Light. His duty was to fill and +trim and light his lamps, and keep bright the reflectors. He filled them every +morning, and trimmed them commonly once in the course of the night. He +complained of the quality of the oil which was furnished. This house consumes +about eight hundred gallons in a year, which cost not far from one dollar a +gallon; but perhaps a few lives would be saved if better oil were provided. +Another light-house keeper said that the same proportion of winter-strained oil +was sent to the southernmost light-house in the Union as to the most northern. +Formerly, when this light-house had windows with small and thin panes, a severe +storm would sometimes break the glass, and then they were obliged to put up a +wooden shutter in haste to save their lights and reflectors,—and +sometimes in tempests, when the mariner stood most in need of their guidance, +they had thus nearly converted the light-house into a dark lantern, which +emitted only a few feeble rays, and those commonly on the land or lee side. He +spoke of the anxiety and sense of responsibility which he felt in cold and +stormy nights in the winter; when he knew that many a poor fellow was depending +on him, and his lamps burned dimly, the oil being chilled. Sometimes he was +obliged to warm the oil in a kettle in his house at midnight, and fill his +lamps over again,—for he could not have a fire in the light-house, it +produced such a sweat on the windows. His successor told me that he could not +keep too hot a fire in such a case. All this because the oil was poor. The +government lighting the mariners on its wintry coast with summer-strained oil, +to save expense! That were surely a summer-strained mercy. +</p> + +<p> +This keeper’s successor, who kindly entertained me the next year stated +that one extremely cold night, when this and all the neighboring lights were +burning summer oil, but he had been provident enough to reserve a little winter +oil against emergencies, he was waked up with anxiety, and found that his oil +was congealed, and his lights almost extinguished; and when, after many +hours’ exertion, he had succeeded in replenishing his reservoirs with +winter oil at the wick end, and with difficulty had made them burn, he looked +out and found that the other lights in the neighborhood, which were usually +visible to him, had gone out, and he heard afterward that the Pamet River and +Billingsgate Lights also had been extinguished. +</p> + +<p> +Our host said that the frost, too, on the windows caused him much trouble, and +in sultry summer nights the moths covered them and dimmed his lights; sometimes +even small birds flew against the thick plate glass, and were found on the +ground beneath in the morning with their necks broken. In the spring of 1855 he +found nineteen small yellow-birds, perhaps goldfinches or myrtle-birds, thus +lying dead around the light-house; and sometimes in the fall he had seen where +a golden plover had struck the glass in the night, and left the down and the +fatty part of its breast on it. +</p> + +<p> +Thus he struggled, by every method, to keep his light shining before men. +Surely the light-house keeper has a responsible, if an easy, office. When his +lamp goes out, he goes out; or, at most, only one such accident is pardoned. +</p> + +<p> +I thought it a pity that some poor student did not live there, to profit by all +that light, since he would not rob the mariner. “Well,” he said, +“I do sometimes come up here and read the newspaper when they are noisy +down below.” Think of fifteen argand lamps to read the newspaper by! +Government oil!—light, enough, perchance, to read the Constitution by! I +thought that he should read nothing less than his Bible by that light. I had a +classmate who fitted for college by the lamps of a light-house, which was more +light, we think, than the University afforded. +</p> + +<p> +When we had come down and walked a dozen rods from the light-house, we found +that we could not get the full strength of its light on the narrow strip of +land between it and the shore, being too low for the focus, and we saw only so +many feeble and rayless stars; but at forty rods inland we could see to read, +though we were still indebted to only one lamp. Each reflector sent forth a +separate “fan” of light,—one shone on the windmill, and one +in the hollow, while the intervening spaces were in shadow. This light is said +to be visible twenty nautical miles and more from an observer fifteen feet +above the level of the sea. We could see the revolving light at Race Point, the +end of the Cape, about nine miles distant, and also the light on Long Point, at +the entrance of Provincetown Harbor, and one of the distant Plymouth Harbor +Lights, across the Bay, nearly in a range with the last, like a star in the +horizon. The keeper thought that the other Plymouth Light was concealed by +being exactly in a range with the Long Point Light. He told us that the mariner +was sometimes led astray by a mackerel fisher’s lantern, who was afraid +of being run down in the night, or even by a cottager’s light, mistaking +them for some well-known light on the coast, and, when he discovered his +mistake, was wont to curse the prudent fisher or the wakeful cottager without +reason. +</p> + +<p> +Though it was once declared that Providence placed this mass of clay here on +purpose to erect a light-house on, the keeper said that the light-house should +have been erected half a mile farther south, where the coast begins to bend, +and where the light could be seen at the same time with the Nauset Lights, and +distinguished from them. They now talk of building one there. It happens that +the present one is the more useless now, so near the extremity of the Cape, +because other light-houses have since been erected there. +</p> + +<p> +Among the many regulations of the Light-house Board, hanging against the wall +here, many of them excellent, perhaps, if there were a regiment stationed here +to attend to them, there is one requiring the keeper to keep an account of the +number of vessels which pass his light during the day. But there are a hundred +vessels in sight at once, steering in all directions, many on the very verge of +the horizon, and he must have more eyes than Argus, and be a good deal +farther-sighted, to tell which are passing his light. It is an employment in +some respects best suited to the habits of the gulls which coast up and down +here, and circle over the sea. +</p> + +<p> +I was told by the next keeper, that on the 8th of June following, a +particularly clear and beautiful morning, he rose about half an hour before +sunrise, and having a little time to spare, for his custom was to extinguish +his lights at sunrise, walked down toward the shore to see what he might find. +When he got to the edge of the bank he looked up, and, to his astonishment, saw +the sun rising, and already part way above the horizon. Thinking that his clock +was wrong, he made haste back, and though it was still too early by the clock, +extinguished his lamps, and when he had got through and come down, he looked +out the window, and, to his still greater astonishment, saw the sun just where +it was before, two-thirds above the horizon. He showed me where its rays fell +on the wall across the room. He proceeded to make a fire, and when he had done, +there was the sun still at the same height. Whereupon, not trusting to his own +eyes any longer, he called up his wife to look at it, and she saw it also. +There were vessels in sight on the ocean, and their crews, too, he said, must +have seen it, for its rays fell on them. It remained at that height for about +fifteen minutes by the clock, and then rose as usual, and nothing else +extraordinary happened during that day. Though accustomed to the coast, he had +never witnessed nor heard of such a phenomenon before. I suggested that there +might have been a cloud in the horizon invisible to him, which rose with the +sun, and his clock was only as accurate as the average; or perhaps, as he +denied the possibility of this, it was such a looming of the sun as is said to +occur at Lake Superior and elsewhere. Sir John Franklin, for instance, says in +his Narrative, that when he was on the shore of the Polar Sea, the horizontal +refraction varied so much one morning that “the upper limb of the sun +twice appeared at the horizon before it finally rose.” +</p> + +<p> +He certainly must be a son of Aurora to whom the sun looms, when there are so +many millions to whom it <i>glooms</i> rather, or who never see it till an hour +<i>after</i> it has risen. But it behooves us old stagers to keep our lamps +trimmed and burning to the last, and not trust to the sun’s looming. +</p> + +<p> +This keeper remarked that the centre of the flame should be exactly opposite +the centre of the reflectors, and that accordingly, if he was not careful to +turn down his wicks in the morning, the sun falling on the reflectors on the +south side of the building would set fire to them, like a burning-glass, in the +coldest day, and he would look up at noon and see them all lighted! When your +light is ready to give light, it is readiest to receive it, and the sun will +light it. His successor said that he had never known them to blaze in such a +case, but merely to smoke. +</p> + +<p> +I saw that this was a place of wonders. In a sea turn or shallow fog while I +was there the next summer, it being clear overhead, the edge of the bank twenty +rods distant, appeared like a mountain pasture in the horizon. I was completely +deceived by it, and I could then understand why mariners sometimes ran ashore +in such cases, especially in the night, supposing it to be far away, though +they could see the land. Once since this, being in a large oyster boat two or +three hundred miles from here, in a dark night, when there was a thin veil of +mist on land and water, we came so near to running on to the land before our +skipper was aware of it, that the first warning was my hearing the sound of the +surf under my elbow. I could almost have jumped ashore, and we were obliged to +go about very suddenly to prevent striking. The distant light for which we were +steering, supposing it a light-house five or six miles off, came through the +cracks of a fisherman’s bunk not more than six rods distant. +</p> + +<p> +The keeper entertained us handsomely in his solitary little ocean house. He was +a man of singular patience and intelligence, who, when our queries struck him, +rung as clear as a bell in response. The light-house lamps a few feet distant +shone full into my chamber, and made it as bright as day, so I knew exactly how +the Highland Light bore all that night, and I was in no danger of being +wrecked. Unlike the last, this was as still as a summer night. I thought, as I +lay there, half awake and half asleep, looking upward through the window at the +lights above my head, how many sleepless eyes from far out on the Ocean +stream—mariners of all nations spinning their yarns through the various +watches of the night—were directed toward my couch. +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +<a name="linknote-5" id="linknote-5"></a> <a href="#linknoteref-5">[1]</a> +The light-house has since been rebuilt, and shows a <i>Fresnel</i> light. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap09"></a>IX<br/> +THE SEA AND THE DESERT</h2> + +<p> +The light-house lamps were still burning, though now with a silvery lustre, +when I rose to see the sun come out of the Ocean; for he still rose eastward of +us; but I was convinced that he must have come out of a dry bed beyond that +stream, though he seemed to come out of the water. +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +“The sun once more touched the fields,<br/> +Mounting to heaven from the fair flowing<br/> +Deep-running Ocean.” +</p> + +<p> +Now we saw countless sails of mackerel fishers abroad on the deep, one fleet in +the north just pouring round the Cape, another standing down toward Chatham, +and our host’s son went off to join some lagging member of the first +which had not yet left the Bay. +</p> + +<p> +Before we left the light-house we were obliged to anoint our shoes faithfully +with tallow, for walking on the beach, in the salt water and the sand, had +turned them red and crisp. To counterbalance this, I have remarked that the +seashore, even where muddy, as it is not here, is singularly clean; for +notwithstanding the spattering of the water and mud and squirting of the clams +while walking to and from the boat, your best black pants retain no stain nor +dirt, such as they would acquire from walking in the country. +</p> + +<p> +We have heard that a few days after this, when the Provincetown Bank was +robbed, speedy emissaries from Provincetown made particular inquiries +concerning us at this light-house. Indeed, they traced us all the way down the +Cape, and concluded that we came by this unusual route down the back-side and +on foot, in order that we might discover a way to get off with our booty when +we had committed the robbery. The Cape is so long and narrow, and so bare +withal, that it is wellnigh impossible for a stranger to visit it without the +knowledge of its inhabitants generally, unless he is wrecked on to it in the +night. So, when this robbery occurred, all their suspicions seem to have at +once centred on us two travellers who had just passed down it. If we had not +chanced to leave the Cape so soon, we should probably have been arrested. The +real robbers were two young men from Worcester County who travelled with a +centre-bit, and are said to have done their work very neatly. But the only bank +that we pried into was the great Cape Cod sand-bank, and we robbed it only of +an old French crown piece, some shells and pebbles, and the materials of this +story. +</p> + +<p> +Again we took to the beach for another day (October 13), walking along the +shore of the resounding sea, determined to get it into us. We wished to +associate with the Ocean until it lost the pond-like look which it wears to a +country-man. We still thought that we could see the other side. Its surface was +still more sparkling than the day before, and we beheld “the countless +smilings of the ocean waves”; though some of them were pretty broad +grins, for still the wind blew and the billows broke in foam along the beach. +The nearest beach to us on the other side, whither we looked, due east, was on +the coast of Galicia, in Spain, whose capital is Santiago, though by old +poets’ reckoning it should have been Atlantis or the Hesperides; but +heaven is found to be farther west now. At first we were abreast of that part +of Portugal <i>entre Douro e Mino</i>, and then Galicia and the port of +Pontevedra opened to us as we walked along; but we did not enter, the breakers +ran so high. The bold headland of Cape Finisterre, a little north of east, +jutted toward us next, with its vain brag, for we flung back,—“Here +is Cape Cod,—Cape Land’s-Beginning.” A little indentation +toward the north,—for the land loomed to our imaginations by a common +mirage,—we knew was the Bay of Biscay, and we sang:— +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +“There we lay, till next day.<br/> + In the Bay of Biscay O!” +</p> + +<p> +A little south of east was Palos, where Columbus weighed anchor, and farther +yet the pillars which Hercules set up; concerning which when we inquired at the +top of our voices what was written on them,—for we had the morning sun in +our faces, and could not see distinctly,—the inhabitants shouted <i>Ne +plus ultra</i> (no more beyond), but the wind bore to us the truth only, +<i>plus ultra</i> (more beyond), and over the Bay westward was echoed +<i>ultra</i> (beyond). We spoke to them through the surf about the Far West, +the true Hesperia, ἕω πέρας or end of the +day, the This Side Sundown, where the sun was extinguished in the +<i>Pacific</i>, and we advised them to pull up stakes and plant those pillars +of theirs on the shore of California, whither all our folks were +gone,—the only <i>ne</i> plus ultra now. Whereat they looked crestfallen +on their cliffs, for we had taken the wind out of all their sails. +</p> + +<p> +We could not perceive that any of their leavings washed up here, though we +picked up a child’s toy, a small dismantled boat, which may have been +lost at Pontevedra. +</p> + +<p> +The Cape became narrower and narrower as we approached its wrist between Truro +and Provincetown, and the shore inclined more decidedly to the west. At the +head of East Harbor Creek, the Atlantic is separated but by half a dozen rods +of sand from the tide-waters of the Bay. From the Clay Pounds the bank flatted +off for the last ten miles to the extremity at Race Point, though the highest +parts, which are called “islands” from their appearance at a +distance on the sea, were still seventy or eighty feet above the Atlantic, and +afforded a good view of the latter, as well as a constant view of the Bay, +there being no trees nor a hill sufficient to interrupt it. Also the sands +began to invade the land more and more, until finally they had entire +possession from sea to sea, at the narrowest part. For three or four miles +between Truro and Provincetown there were no inhabitants from shore to shore, +and there were but three or four houses for twice that distance. +</p> + +<p> +As we plodded along, either by the edge of the ocean, where the sand was +rapidly drinking up the last wave that wet it, or over the sand-hills of the +bank, the mackerel fleet continued to pour round the Cape north of us, ten or +fifteen miles distant, in countless numbers, schooner after schooner, till they +made a city on the water. They were so thick that many appeared to be afoul of +one another; now all standing on this tack, now on that. We saw how well the +New-Englanders had followed up Captain John Smith’s suggestions with +regard to the fisheries, made in 1616,—to what a pitch they had carried +“this contemptible trade of fish,” as he significantly styles it, +and were now equal to the Hollanders whose example he holds up for the English +to emulate; notwithstanding that “in this faculty,” as he says, +“the former are so naturalized, and of their vents so certainly +acquainted, as there is no likelihood they will ever be paralleled, having two +or three thousand busses, flat-bottoms, sword-pinks, todes, and such like, that +breeds them sailors, mariners, soldiers, and merchants, never to be wrought out +of that trade and fit for any other.” We thought that it would take all +these names and more to describe the numerous craft which we saw. Even then, +some years before our “renowned sires” with their “peerless +dames” stepped on Plymouth Rock, he wrote, “Newfoundland doth +yearly freight neir eight hundred sail of ships with a silly, lean, skinny, +poor-john, and cor fish,” though all their supplies must be annually +transported from Europe. Why not plant a colony here then, and raise those +supplies on the spot? “Of all the four parts of the world,” says +he, “that I have yet seen, not inhabited, could I have but means to +transport a colony, I would rather live here than anywhere. And if it did not +maintain itself, were we but once indifferently well fitted, let us +starve.” Then “fishing before your doors,” you “may +every night sleep quietly ashore, with good cheer and what fires you will, or, +when you please, with your wives and family.” Already he anticipates +“the new towns in New England in memory of their old,”—and +who knows what may be discovered in the “heart and entrails” of the +land, “seeing even the very edges,” etc., etc. +</p> + +<div class="fig" style="width: 276px;"> +<a name="illus26"></a> +<img src="images/towing.jpg" width="276" height="450" alt="Towing along shore" title="" /> +<p class="caption">Towing along shore</p> +</div> + +<p> +All this has been accomplished, and more, and where is Holland now? Verily the +Dutch have taken it. There was no long interval between the suggestion of Smith +and the eulogy of Burke. +</p> + +<p> +Still one after another the mackerel schooners hove in sight round the head of +the Cape, “whitening all the sea road,” and we watched each one for +a moment with an undivided interest. It seemed a pretty sport. Here in the +country it is only a few idle boys or loafers that go a-fishing on a rainy day; +but there it appeared as if every able-bodied man and helpful boy in the Bay +had gone out on a pleasure excursion in their yachts, and all would at last +land and have a chowder on the Cape. The gazetteer tells you gravely how many +of the men and boys of these towns are engaged in the whale, cod, and mackerel +fishery, how many go to the banks of Newfoundland, or the coast of Labrador, +the Straits of Belle Isle or the Bay of Chaleurs (Shalore the sailors call it); +as if I were to reckon up the number of boys in Concord who are engaged during +the summer in the perch, pickerel, bream, hornpout, and shiner fishery, of +which no one keeps the statistics,—though I think that it is pursued with +as much profit to the moral and intellectual man (or boy), and certainly with +less danger to the physical one. +</p> + +<p> +One of my playmates, who was apprenticed to a printer, and was somewhat of a +wag, asked his master one afternoon if he might go a-fishing, and his master +consented. He was gone three months. When he came back, he said that he had +been to the Grand Banks, and went to setting type again as if only an afternoon +had intervened. +</p> + +<p> +I confess I was surprised to find that so many men spent their whole day, ay, +their whole lives almost, a-fishing. It is remarkable what a serious business +men make of getting their dinners, and how universally shiftlessness and a +grovelling taste take refuge in a merely ant-like industry. Better go without +your dinner, I thought, than be thus everlastingly fishing for it like a +cormorant. Of course, <i>viewed from the shore</i>, our pursuits in the country +appear not a whit less frivolous. +</p> + +<p> +I once sailed three miles on a mackerel cruise myself. It was a Sunday evening +after a very warm day in which there had been frequent thunder-showers, and I +had walked along the shore from Cohasset to Duxbury. I wished to get over from +the last place to Clark’s Island, but no boat could stir, they said, at +that stage of the tide, they being left high on the mud. At length I learned +that the tavern-keeper, Winsor, was going out mackerelling with seven men that +evening, and would take me. When there had been due delay, we one after another +straggled down to the shore in a leisurely manner, as if waiting for the tide +still, and in India-rubber boots, or carrying our shoes in our hands, waded to +the boats, each of the crew bearing an armful of wood, and one a bucket of new +potatoes besides. Then they resolved that each should bring one more armful of +wood, and that would be enough. They had already got a barrel of water, and had +some more in the schooner. We shoved the boats a dozen rods over the mud and +water till they floated, then rowing half a mile to the vessel climbed aboard, +and there we were in a mackerel schooner, a fine stout vessel of forty-three +tons, whose name I forget. The baits were not dry on the hooks. There was the +mill in which they ground the mackerel, and the trough to hold it, and the +long-handled dipper to cast it overboard with; and already in the harbor we saw +the surface rippled with schools of small mackerel, the real <i>Scomber +vernalis</i>. The crew proceeded leisurely to weigh anchor and raise their two +sails, there being a fair but very slight wind;—and the sun now setting +clear and shining on the vessel after the thundershowers, I thought that I +could not have commenced the voyage under more favorable auspices. They had +four dories and commonly fished in them, else they fished on the starboard side +aft where their fines hung ready, two to a man. The boom swung round once or +twice, and Winsor cast overboard the foul juice of mackerel mixed with +rain-water which remained in his trough, and then we gathered about the +helmsman and told stories. I remember that the compass was affected by iron in +its neighborhood and varied a few degrees. There was one among us just returned +from California, who was now going as passenger for his health and amusement. +They expected to be gone about a week, to begin fishing the next morning, and +to carry their fish fresh to Boston. They landed me at Clark’s Island, +where the Pilgrims landed, for my companions wished to get some milk for the +voyage. But I had seen the whole of it. The rest was only going to sea and +catching the mackerel. Moreover, it was as well that I did not remain with +them, considering the small quantity of supplies they had taken. +</p> + +<p> +Now I saw the mackerel fleet <i>on its fishing-ground</i>, though I was not at +first aware of it. So my experience was complete. +</p> + +<p> +It was even more cold and windy to-day than before, and we were frequently glad +to take shelter behind a sand-hill. None of the elements were resting. On the +beach there is a ceaseless activity, always something going on, in storm and in +calm, winter and summer, night and day. Even the sedentary man here enjoys a +breadth of view which is almost equivalent to motion. In clear weather the +laziest may look across the Bay as far as Plymouth at a glance, or over the +Atlantic as far as human vision reaches, merely raising his eyelids; or if he +is too lazy to look after all, he can hardly help hearing the ceaseless dash +and roar of the breakers. The restless ocean may at any moment cast up a whale +or a wrecked vessel at your feet. All the reporters in the world, the most +rapid stenographers, could not report the news it brings. No creature could +move slowly where there was so much life around. The few wreckers were either +going or coming, and the ships and the sand-pipers, and the screaming gulls +overhead; nothing stood still but the shore. The little beach-birds trotted +past close to the water’s edge, or paused but an instant to swallow their +food, keeping time with the elements. I wondered how they ever got used to the +sea, that they ventured so near the waves. Such tiny inhabitants the land +brought forth! except one fox. And what could a fox do, looking on the Atlantic +from that high bank? What is the sea to a fox? Sometimes we met a wrecker with +his cart and dog,—and his dog’s faint bark at us wayfarers, heard +through the roaring of the surf, sounded ridiculously faint. To see a little +trembling dainty-footed cur stand on the margin of the ocean, and ineffectually +bark at a beach-bird, amid the roar of the Atlantic! Come with design to bark +at a whale, perchance! That sound will do for farmyards. All the dogs looked +out of place there, naked and as if shuddering at the vastness; and I thought +that they would not have been there had it not been for the countenance of +their masters. Still less could you think of a cat bending her steps that way, +and shaking her wet foot over the Atlantic; yet even this happens sometimes, +they tell me. In summer I saw the tender young of the Piping Plover, like +chickens just hatched, mere pinches of down on two legs, running in troops, +with a faint peep, along the edge of the waves. I used to see packs of +half-wild dogs haunting the lonely beach on the south shore of Staten Island, +in New York Bay, for the sake of the carrion there cast up; and I remember that +once, when for a long time I had heard a furious barking in the tall grass of +the marsh, a pack of half a dozen large dogs burst forth on to the beach, +pursuing a little one which ran straight to me for protection, and I afforded +it with some stones, though at some risk to myself; but the next day the little +one was the first to bark at me. under these circumstances I could not but +remember the words of the poet:— +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +“Blow, blow, thou winter wind,<br/> +Thou art not so unkind<br/> + As <i>his</i> ingratitude;<br/> +Thy tooth is not so keen,<br/> +Because thou art not seen,<br/> + Although thy breath be rude.<br/> +<br/> +“Freeze, freeze, thou bitter sky,<br/> +Thou dost not bite so nigh<br/> + As benefits forgot;<br/> +Though thou the waters warp,<br/> +Thy sting is not so sharp<br/> + As friend remembered not.” +</p> + +<p> +Sometimes, when I was approaching the carcass of a horse or ox which lay on the +beach there, where there was no living creature in sight, a dog would +unexpectedly emerge from it and slink away with a mouthful of offal. +</p> + +<p> +The sea-shore is a sort of neutral ground, a most advantageous point from which +to contemplate this world. It is even a trivial place. The waves forever +rolling to the land are too far-travelled and untamable to be familiar. +Creeping along the endless beach amid the sun-squall and the foam, it occurs to +us that we, too, are the product of sea-slime. +</p> + +<p> +It is a wild, rank place, and there is no flattery in it. Strewn with crabs, +horse-shoes, and razor-clams, and whatever the sea casts up,—a vast +<i>morgue</i>, where famished dogs may range in packs, and crows come daily to +glean the pittance which the tide leaves them. The carcasses of men and beasts +together lie stately up upon its shelf, rotting and bleaching in the sun and +waves, and each tide turns them in their beds, and tucks fresh sand under them. +There is naked Nature, inhumanly sincere, wasting no thought on man, nibbling +at the cliffy shore where gulls wheel amid the spray. +</p> + +<p> +We saw this forenoon what, at a distance, looked like a bleached log with a +branch still left on it. It proved to be one of the principal bones of a whale, +whose carcass, having been stripped of blubber at sea and cut adrift, had been +washed up some months before. It chanced that this was the most conclusive +evidence which we met with to prove, what the Copenhagen antiquaries assert, +that these shores were the <i>Furdustrandas</i> which Thorhall, the companion +of Thorfinn during his expedition to Vinland in 1007. sailed past in disgust. +It appears that after they had left the Cape and explored the country about +Straum-Fiordr (Buzzards’ Bay!), Thorhall, who was disappointed at not +getting any wine to drink there, determined to sail north again in search of +Vinland. Though the antiquaries have given us the original Icelandic. I prefer +to quote their translation, since theirs is the only Latin which I know to have +been aimed at Cape Cod. +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +“Cum parati erant, sublato<br/> +velo, cecinit Thorhallus:<br/> +Eò redeamus, ubi conterranei<br/> +sunt nostri! faciamus aliter,<br/> +expansi arenosi peritum,<br/> +lata navis explorare curricula:<br/> +dum procellam incitantes gladii<br/> +moræ impatientes, qui terram<br/> +collaudant, Furdustrandas<br/> +inhabitant et coquunt balænas.” +</p> + +<p> +In other words: “When they were ready and their sail hoisted, Thorhall +sang: Let us return thither where our fellow-countrymen are. Let us make a +bird<a href="#linknote-6" name="linknoteref-6"><sup>[1]</sup></a> skilful to +fly through the heaven of sand,<a href="#linknote-7" +name="linknoteref-7"><sup>[2]</sup></a> to explore the broad track of ships; +while warriors who impel to the tempest of swords,<a href="#linknote-8" +name="linknoteref-8"><sup>[3]</sup></a> who praise the land, inhabit +Wonder-Strands, <i>and cook whales</i>.’” And so he sailed north +past Cape Cod, as the antiquaries say, “and was shipwrecked on to +Ireland.” +</p> + +<p> +Though once there were more whales cast up here, I think that it was never more +wild than now. We do not associate the idea of antiquity with the ocean, nor +wonder how it looked a thousand years ago, as we do of the land, for it was +equally wild and unfathomable always. The Indians have left no traces on its +surface, but it is the same to the civilized man and the savage. The aspect of +the shore only has changed. The ocean is a wilderness reaching round the globe, +wilder than a Bengal jungle, and fuller of monsters, washing the very wharves +of our cities and the gardens of our sea-side residences. Serpents, bears, +hyenas, tigers, rapidly vanish as civilization advances, but the most populous +and civilized city cannot scare a shark far from its wharves. It is no further +advanced than Singapore, with its tigers, in this respect. The Boston papers +had never told me that there were seals in the harbor. I had always associated +these with the Esquimaux and other outlandish people. Yet from the parlor +windows all along the coast you may see families of them sporting on the flats. +They were as strange to me as the merman would be. Ladies who never walk in the +woods, sail over the sea. To go to sea! Why, it is to have the experience of +Noah,—to realize the deluge. Every vessel is an ark. +</p> + +<p> +We saw no fences as we walked the beach, no birchen <i>riders</i>, highest of +rails, projecting into the sea to keep the cows from wading round, nothing to +remind us that man was proprietor of the shore. Yet a Truro man did tell us +that owners of land on the east side of that town were regarded as owning the +beach, in order that they might have the control of it so far as to defend +themselves against the encroachments of the sand and the beach-grass,—for +even this friend is sometimes regarded as a foe; but he said that this was not +the case on the Bay side. Also I have seen in sheltered parts of the Bay +temporary fences running to low-water mark, the posts being set in sills or +sleepers placed transversely. +</p> + +<p> +After we had been walking many hours, the mackerel fleet still hovered in the +northern horizon nearly in the same direction, but farther off, hull down. +Though their sails were set they never sailed away, nor yet came to anchor, but +stood on various tacks as close together as vessels in a haven, and we in our +ignorance thought that they were contending patiently with adverse winds, +beating eastward; but we learned afterward that they were even then on their +fishing-ground, and that they caught mackerel without taking in their mainsails +or coming to anchor, “a smart breeze” (thence called a mackerel +breeze) “being,” as one says, “considered most +favorable” for this purpose. We counted about two hundred sail of +mackerel fishers within one small arc of the horizon, and a nearly equal number +had disappeared southward. Thus they hovered about the extremity of the Cape, +like moths round a candle; the lights at Race Point and Long Point being bright +candles for them at night,—and at this distance they looked fair and +white, as if they had not yet flown into the light, but nearer at hand +afterward, we saw how some had formerly singed their wings and bodies. +</p> + +<p> +A village seems thus, where its able-bodied men are all ploughing the ocean +together, as a common field. In North Truro the women and girls may sit at +their doors, and see where their husbands and brothers are harvesting their +mackerel fifteen or twenty miles off, on the sea, with hundreds of white +harvest wagons, just as in the country the farmers’ wives sometimes see +their husbands working in a distant hillside field. But the sound of no +dinner-horn can reach the fisher’s ear. +</p> + +<p> +Having passed the narrowest part of the waist of the Cape, though still in +Truro, for this township is about twelve miles long on the shore, we crossed +over to the Bay side, not half a mile distant, in order to spend the noon on +the nearest shrubby sand-hill in Provincetown, called Mount Ararat, which rises +one hundred feet above the ocean. On our way thither we had occasion to admire +the various beautiful forms and colors of the sand, and we noticed an +interesting mirage, which I have since found that Hitchcock also observed on +the sands of the Cape. We were crossing a shallow valley in the Desert, where +the smooth and spotless sand sloped upward by a small angle to the horizon on +every side, and at the lowest part was a long chain of clear but shallow pools. +As we were approaching these for a drink in a diagonal direction across the +valley, they appeared inclined at a slight but decided angle to the horizon, +though they were plainly and broadly connected with one another, and there was +not the least ripple to suggest a current; so that by the time we had reached a +convenient part of one we seemed to have ascended several feet. They appeared +to lie by magic on the side of the vale, like a mirror left in a slanting +position. It was a very pretty mirage for a Provincetown desert, but not +amounting to what, in Sanscrit, is called “the thirst of the +gazelle,” as there was real water here for a base, and we were able to +quench our thirst after all. +</p> + +<p> +Professor Rafn, of Copenhagen, thinks that the mirage which I noticed, but +which an old inhabitant of Provincetown, to whom I mentioned it, had never seen +nor heard of, had something to do with the name “Furdustrandas,” +i.e. Wonder-Strands, given, as I have said, in the old Icelandic account of +Thorfinn’s expedition to Vinland in the year 1007, to a part of the coast +on which he landed. But these sands are more remarkable for their length than +for their mirage, which is common to all deserts, and the reason for the name +which the Northmen themselves give,—“because it took a long time +to sail by them,”—is sufficient and more applicable to these +shores. However, if you should sail all the way from Greenland to +Buzzards’ Bay along the coast, you would get sight of a good many sandy +beaches. But whether Thorfinn saw the mirage here or not, Thor-eau, one of the +same family, did; and perchance it was because Lief the Lucky had, in a +previous voyage, taken Thor-er and his people off the rock in the middle of the +sea, that Thor-eau was born to see it. +</p> + +<p> +This was not the only mirage which I saw on the Cape. That half of the beach +next the bank is commonly level, or nearly so, while the other slopes downward +to the water. As I was walking upon the edge of the bank in Wellfleet at +sundown, it seemed to me that the inside half of the beach sloped upward toward +the water to meet the other, forming a ridge ten or twelve feet high the whole +length of the shore, but higher always opposite to where I stood; and I was not +convinced of the contrary till I descended the bank, though the shaded outlines +left by the waves of a previous tide but half-way down the apparent declivity +might have taught me better. A stranger may easily detect what is strange to +the oldest inhabitant, for the strange is his province. The old oysterman, +speaking of gull-shooting, had said that you must aim under, when firing down +the bank. +</p> + +<p> +A neighbor tells me that one August, looking through a glass from Naushon to +some vessels which were sailing along near Martha’s Vineyard, the water +about them appeared perfectly smooth, so that they were reflected in it, and +yet their full sails proved that it must be rippled, and they who were with him +thought that it was mirage, <i>i.e.</i> a reflection from a haze. +</p> + +<p> +From the above-mentioned sand-hill we over-looked Provincetown and its harbor, +now emptied of vessels, and also a wide expanse of ocean. As we did not wish to +enter Provincetown before night, though it was cold and windy, we returned +across the Deserts to the Atlantic side, and walked along the beach again +nearly to Race Point, being still greedy of the sea influence. All the while it +was not so calm as the reader may suppose, but it was blow, blow, +blow,—roar, roar, roar,—tramp, tramp, tramp,—without +interruption. The shore now trended nearly east and west. +</p> + +<p> +Before sunset, having already seen the mackerel fleet returning into the Bay, +we left the sea-shore on the north of Provincetown, and made our way across the +Desert to the eastern extremity of the town. From the first high sand-hill, +covered with beach-grass and bushes to its top, on the edge of the desert, we +overlooked the shrubby hill and swamp country which surrounds Provincetown on +the north, and protects it, in some measure, from the invading sand. +Notwithstanding the universal barrenness, and the contiguity of the desert, I +never saw an autumnal landscape so beautifully painted as this was. It was like +the richest rug imaginable spread over an uneven surface; no damask nor velvet, +nor Tyrian dye or stuffs, nor the work of any loom, could ever match it. There +was the incredibly bright red of the Huckleberry, and the reddish brown of the +Bayberry, mingled with the bright and living green of small Pitch-Pines, and +also the duller green of the Bayberry, Boxberry, and Plum, the yellowish green +of the Shrub-oaks, and the various golden and yellow and fawn-colored tints of +the Birch and Maple and Aspen,—each making its own figure, and, in the +midst, the few yellow sand-slides on the sides of the hills looked like the +white floor seen through rents in the rug. Coming from the country as I did, +and many autumnal woods as I had seen, this was perhaps the most novel and +remarkable sight that I saw on the Cape. Probably the brightness of the tints +was enhanced by contrast with the sand which surrounded this tract. This was a +part of the furniture of Cape Cod. We had for days walked up the long and bleak +piazza which runs along her Atlantic side, then over the sanded floor of her +halls, and now we were being introduced into her boudoir. The hundred white +sails crowding round Long Point into Provincetown Harbor, seen over the painted +hills in front, looked like toy ships upon a mantel-piece. +</p> + +<p> +The peculiarity of this autumnal landscape consisted in the lowness and +thickness of the shrubbery, no less than in the brightness of the tints. It was +like a thick stuff of worsted or a fleece, and looked as if a giant could take +it up by the hem, or rather the tasselled fringe which trailed out on the sand, +and shake it, though it needed not to be shaken. But no doubt the dust would +fly in that case, for not a little has accumulated underneath it. Was it not +such an autumnal landscape as this which suggested our high-colored rugs and +carpets? Hereafter when I look on a richer rug than usual, and study its +figures, I shall think, there are the huckleberry hills, and there the denser +swamps of boxberry and blueberry: there the shrub-oak patches and the +bayberries, there the maples and the birches and the pines. What other dyes are +to be compared to these? They were warmer colors than I had associated with the +New England coast. +</p> + +<p> +After threading a swamp full of boxberry, and climbing several hills covered +with shrub-oaks, without a path, where shipwrecked men would be in danger of +perishing in the night, we came down upon the eastern extremity of the four +planks which run the whole length of Provincetown street. This, which is the +last town on the Cape, lies mainly in one street along the curving beach +fronting the southeast. The sand-hills, covered with shrubbery and interposed +with swamps and ponds, rose immediately behind it in the form of a crescent, +which is from half a mile to a mile or more wide in the middle, and beyond +these is the desert, which is the greater part of its territory, stretching to +the sea on the east and west and north. The town is compactly built in the +narrow space, from ten to fifty rods deep, between the harbor and the +sand-hills, and contained at that time about twenty-six hundred inhabitants. +The houses, in which a more modern and pretending style has at length prevailed +over the fisherman’s hut, stand on the inner or plank side of the street, +and the fish and store houses, with the picturesque-looking windmills of the +Salt-works, on the water side. The narrow portion of the beach between, forming +the street, about eighteen feet wide, the only one where one carriage could +pass another, if there was more than one carriage in the town, looked much +“heavier” than any portion of the beach or the desert which we had +walked on, it being above the reach of the highest tide, and the sand being +kept loose by the occasional passage of a traveller. We learned that the four +planks on which we were walking had been bought by the town’s share of +the Surplus Revenue, the disposition of which was a bone of contention between +the inhabitants, till they wisely resolved thus to put it under foot. Yet some, +it was said, were so provoked because they did not receive their particular +share in money, that they persisted in walking in the sand a long time after +the sidewalk was built. This is the only instance which I happen to know in +which the surplus revenue proved a blessing to any town. A surplus revenue of +dollars from the treasury to stem the greater evil of a surplus revenue of sand +from the ocean. They expected to make a hard road by the time these planks were +worn out. Indeed, they have already done so since we were there, and have +almost forgotten their sandy baptism. +</p> + +<p> +As we passed along we observed the inhabitants engaged in curing either fish or +the coarse salt hay which they had brought home and spread on the beach before +their doors, looking as yellow as if they had raked it out of the sea. The +front-yard plots appeared like what indeed they were, portions of the beach +fenced in, with Beach-grass growing in them, as if they were sometimes covered +by the tide. You might still pick up shells and pebbles there. There were a few +trees among the houses, especially silver abeles, willows, and balm-of-Gileads; +and one man showed me a young oak which he had transplanted from behind the +town, thinking it an apple-tree. But every man to his trade. Though he had +little woodcraft, he was not the less weatherwise, and gave us one piece of +information; viz., he had observed that when a thunder-cloud came up with a +flood-tide it did not rain. This was the most completely maritime town that we +were ever in. It was merely a good harbor, surrounded by land dry, if not +firm,—an inhabited beach, whereon fishermen cured and stored their fish, +without any back country. When ashore the inhabitants still walk on planks. A +few small patches have been reclaimed from the swamps, containing commonly half +a dozen square rods only each. We saw one which was fenced with four lengths of +rail; also a fence made wholly of hogshead-staves stuck in the ground. These, +and such as these, were all the cultivated and cultivable land in Provincetown. +We were told that there were thirty or forty acres in all, but we did not +discover a quarter part so much, and that was well dusted with sand, and looked +as if the desert was claiming it. They are now turning some of their swamps +into Cranberry Meadows on quite an extensive scale. +</p> + +<div class="fig" style="width: 500px;"> +<a name="illus27"></a> +<img src="images/cranberry.jpg" width="500" height="331" alt="A cranberry meadow" title="" /> +<p class="caption">A cranberry meadow</p> +</div> + +<p> +Yet far from being out of the way, Provincetown is directly in the way of the +navigator, and he is lucky who does not run afoul of it in the dark. It is +situated on one of the highways of commerce, and men from all parts of the +globe touch there in the course of a year. +</p> + +<p> +The mackerel fleet had nearly all got in before us, it being Saturday night, +excepting that division which had stood down towards Chatham in the morning; +and from a hill where we went to see the sun set in the Bay we counted two +hundred goodly looking schooners at anchor in the harbor at various distances +from the shore, and more were yet coming round the Cape. As each came to +anchor, it took in sail and swung round in the wind, and lowered its boat. They +belonged chiefly to Wellfleet, Truro, and Cape Ann. This was that city of +canvas which we had seen hull down in the horizon. Near at hand, and under bare +poles, they were unexpectedly black-looking vessels, +μέλαιναι νῆες. +A fisherman told us that there were fifteen hundred vessels in the +mackerel fleet, and that he had counted three hundred and fifty in Provincetown +Harbor at one time. Being obliged to anchor at a considerable distance from the +shore on account of the shallowness of the water, they made the impression of a +larger fleet than the vessels at the wharves of a large city. As they had been +manœuvring out there all day seemingly for our entertainment, while we were +walking north-westward along the Atlantic, so now we found them flocking into +Provincetown Harbor at night, just as we arrived, as if to meet us, and exhibit +themselves close at hand. Standing by Race Point and Long Point with various +speed, they reminded me of fowls coming home to roost. +</p> + +<p> +These were genuine New England vessels. It is stated in the Journal of Moses +Prince, a brother of the annalist, under date of 1721, at which time he visited +Gloucester, that the first vessel of the class called schooner was built at +Gloucester about eight years before, by Andrew Robinson; and late in the same +century one Cotton Tufts gives us the tradition with some particulars, which he +learned on a visit to the same place. According to the latter, Robinson having +constructed a vessel which he masted and rigged in a peculiar manner, on her +going off the stocks a bystander cried out, “<i>O, how she +scoons!</i>” whereat Robinson replied, “<i>A schooner let her +be!</i>” “From which time,” says Tufts, “vessels thus +masted and rigged have gone by the name of schooners; before which, vessels of +this description were not known in Europe.” (See Mass. Hist. Coll., Vol. +IX., 1st Series, and Vol. I., 4th Series.) Yet I can hardly believe this, for a +schooner has always seemed to me—the typical vessel. +</p> + +<p> +According to C. E. Potter of Manchester, New Hampshire, the very word +<i>schooner</i> is of New England origin, being from the Indian <i>schoon</i> +or <i>scoot</i>, meaning to rush, as Schoodic, from <i>scoot</i> and +<i>anke</i>, a place where water rushes. N. B. Somebody of Gloucester was to +read a paper on this matter before a genealogical society, in Boston, March 3, +1859, according to the <i>Boston Journal</i>, q. v. +</p> + +<p> +Nearly all who come out must walk on the four planks which I have mentioned, so +that you are pretty sure to meet all the inhabitants of Provincetown who come +out in the course of a day, provided you keep out yourself. This evening the +planks were crowded with mackerel fishers, to whom we gave and from whom we +took the wall, as we returned to our hotel. This hotel was kept by a tailor, +his shop on the one side of the door, his hotel on the other, and his day +seemed to be divided between carving meat and carving broadcloth. +</p> + +<p> +The next morning, though it was still more cold and blustering than the day +before, we took to the Deserts again, for we spent our days wholly out of +doors, in the sun when there was any, and in the wind which never failed. After +threading the shrubby hill country at the southwest end of the town, west of +the Shank-Painter Swamp, whose expressive name—for we understood it at +first as a landsman naturally would—gave it importance in our eyes, we +crossed the sands to the shore south of Race Point and three miles distant, and +thence roamed round eastward through the desert to where we had left the sea +the evening before. We travelled five or six miles after we got out there, on a +curving line, and might have gone nine or ten, over vast platters of pure sand, +from the midst of which we could not see a particle of vegetation, excepting +the distant thin fields of Beach-grass, which crowned and made the ridges +toward which the sand sloped upward on each side;—all the while in the +face of a cutting wind as cold as January; indeed, we experienced no weather so +cold as this for nearly two months afterward. This desert extends from the +extremity of the Cape, through Provincetown into Truro, and many a time as we +were traversing it we were reminded of “Riley’s Narrative” of +his captivity in the sands of Arabia, notwithstanding the cold. Our eyes +magnified the patches of Beach-grass into cornfields in the horizon, and we +probably exaggerated the height of the ridges on account of the mirage. I was +pleased to learn afterward, from Kalm’s Travels in North America, that +the inhabitants of the Lower St. Lawrence call this grass (<i>Calamagrostis +arenaria</i>), and also Sea-lyme grass (<i>Elymus arenarius</i>), <i>seigle de +me</i>; and he adds, “I have been assured that these plants grow in great +plenty in Newfoundland, and on other North American shores; the places covered +with them looking, at a distance, like cornfields; which might explain the +passage in our northern accounts [he wrote in 1749] of the excellent wine land +[<i>Vinland det goda</i>, Translator], which mentions that they had found whole +fields of wheat growing wild.” +</p> + +<p> +The Beach-grass is “two to four feet high, of a seagreen color,” +and it is said to be widely diffused over the world. In the Hebrides it is used +for mats, pack-saddles, bags, hats, etc.; paper has been made of it at +Dorchester in this State, and cattle eat it when tender. It has heads somewhat +like rye, from six inches to a foot in length, and it is propagated both by +roots and seeds. To express its love for sand, some botanists have called it +<i>Psamma arenaria</i>, which is the Greek for sand, qualified by the Latin for +sandy,—or sandy sand. As it is blown about by the wind, while it is held +fast by its roots, it describes myriad circles in the sand as accurately as if +they were made by compasses. +</p> + +<p> +It was the dreariest scenery imaginable. The only animals which we saw on the +sand at that time were spiders, which are to be found almost everywhere whether +on snow or ice-water or sand,—and a venomous-looking, long, narrow worm, +one of the myriapods, or thousand-legs. We were surprised to see spider-holes +in that flowing sand with an edge as firm as that of a stoned well. +</p> + +<p> +In June this sand was scored with the tracks of turtles both large and small, +which had been out in the night, leading to and from the swamps. I was told by +a <i>terræ filius</i> who has a “farm” on the edge of the desert, +and is familiar with the fame of Provincetown, that one man had caught +twenty-five snapping-turtles there the previous spring. His own method of +catching them was to put a toad on a mackerel-hook and cast it into a pond, +tying the line to a stump or stake on shore. Invariably the turtle when hooked +crawled up the line to the stump, and was found waiting there by his captor, +however long afterward. He also said that minks, muskrats, foxes, coons, and +wild mice were found there, but no squirrels. We heard of sea-turtle as large +as a barrel being found on the beach and on East Harbor marsh, but whether they +were native there, or had been lost out of some vessel, did not appear. Perhaps +they were the Salt-water Terrapin, or else the Smooth Terrapin, found thus far +north. Many toads were met with where there was nothing but sand and +beach-grass. In Truro I had been surprised at the number of large light-colored +toads everywhere hopping over the dry and sandy fields, their color +corresponding to that of the sand. Snakes also are common on these pure sand +beaches, and I have never been so much troubled by mosquitoes as in such +localities. At the same season strawberries grew there abundantly in the little +hollows on the edge of the desert standing amid the beach-grass in the sand, +and the fruit of the shadbush or Amelanchier, which the inhabitants call +Josh-pears (some think from juicy?), is very abundant on the hills. I fell in +with an obliging man who conducted me to the best locality for strawberries. He +said that he would not have shown me the place if he had not seen that I was a +stranger, and could not anticipate him another year; I therefore feel bound in +honor not to reveal it. When we came to a pond, he being the native did the +honors and carried me over on his shoulders, like Sindbad. One good turn +deserves another, and if he ever comes our way I will do as much for him. +</p> + +<p> +In one place we saw numerous dead tops of trees projecting through the +otherwise uninterrupted desert, where, as we afterward learned, thirty or forty +years before a flourishing forest had stood, and now, as the trees were laid +bare from year to year, the inhabitants cut off their tops for fuel. +</p> + +<p> +We saw nobody that day outside of the town; it was too wintry for such as had +seen the Back-side before, or for the greater number who never desire to see +it, to venture out; and we saw hardly a track to show that any had ever crossed +this desert. Yet I was told that some are always out on the Back-side night and +day in severe weather, looking for wrecks, in order that they may get the job +of discharging the cargo, or the like,—and thus shipwrecked men are +succored. But, generally speaking, the inhabitants rarely visit these sands. +One who had lived in Provincetown thirty years told me that he had not been +through to the north side within that time. Sometimes the natives themselves +come near perishing by losing their way in snow-storms behind the town. +</p> + +<p> +The wind was not a Sirocco or Simoon, such as we associate with the desert, but +a New England northeaster,—and we sought shelter in vain under the +sand-hills, for it blew all about them, rounding them into cones, and was sure +to find us out on whichever side we sat. From time to time we lay down and +drank at little pools in the sand, filled with pure fresh water, all that was +left, probably, of a pond or swamp. The air was filled with dust like snow, and +cutting sand which made the face tingle, and we saw what it must be to face it +when the weather was drier, and, if possible, windier still,—to face a +migrating sand-bar in the air, which has picked up its duds and is +off,—to be whipped with a cat, not o’ nine-tails, but of a myriad +of tails, and each one a sting to it. A Mr. Whitman, a former minister of +Wellfleet, used to write to his inland friends that the blowing sand scratched +the windows so that he was obliged to have one new pane set every week, that he +might see out. +</p> + +<p> +On the edge of the shrubby woods the sand had the appearance of an inundation +which was overwhelming them, terminating in an abrupt bank many feet higher +than the surface on which they stood, and having partially buried the outside +trees. The moving sand-hills of England, called Dunes or Downs, to which these +have been likened, are either formed of sand cast up by the sea, or of sand +taken from the land itself in the first place by the wind, and driven still +farther inward. It is here a tide of sand impelled by waves and wind, slowly +flowing from the sea toward the town. The northeast winds are said to be the +strongest, but the northwest to move most sand, because they are the driest. On +the shore of the Bay of Biscay many villages were formerly destroyed in this +way. Some of the ridges of beach-grass which we saw were planted by government +many years ago, to preserve the harbor of Provincetown and the extremity of the +Cape. I talked with some who had been employed in the planting. In the +“Description of the Eastern Coast,” which I have already referred +to, it is said: “Beach-grass during the spring and summer grows about two +feet and a half. If surrounded by naked beach, the storms of autumn and winter +heap up the sand on all sides, and cause it to rise nearly to the top of the +plant. In the ensuing spring the grass mounts anew; is again covered with sand +in the winter; and thus a hill or ridge continues to ascend as long as there is +a sufficient base to support it, or till the circumscribing sand, being also +covered with beach-grass, will no longer yield to the force of the +winds.” Sand-hills formed in this way are sometimes one hundred feet high +and of every variety of form, like snow-drifts, or Arab tents, and are +continually shifting. The grass roots itself very firmly. When I endeavored to +pull it up, it usually broke off ten inches or a foot below the surface, at +what had been the surface the year before, as appeared by the numerous +offshoots there, it being a straight, hard, round shoot, showing by its length +how much the sand had accumulated the last year; and sometimes the dead stubs +of a previous season were pulled up with it from still deeper in the sand, with +their own more decayed shoot attached,—so that the age of a sand-hill, +and its rate of increase for several years, is pretty accurately recorded in +this way. +</p> + +<div class="fig" style="width: 500px;"> +<a name="illus28"></a> +<img src="images/sanddunes.jpg" width="500" height="332" alt="The sand dunes drifting in upon the trees" title="" /> +<p class="caption">The sand dunes drifting in upon the trees</p> +</div> + +<p> +Old Gerard, the English herbalist, says, p. 1250: “I find mention in +Stowe’s Chronicle, in Anno 1555, of a certain pulse or pease, as they +term it, wherewith the poor people at that time, there being a great dearth, +were miraculously helped: he thus mentions it. In the month of August (saith +he), in Suffolke, at a place by the sea side all of hard stone and pibble, +called in those parts a shelf, lying between the towns of Orford and +Aldborough, where neither grew grass nor any earth was ever seen; it chanced in +this barren place suddenly to spring up without any tillage or sowing, great +abundance of peason, whereof the poor gathered (as men judged) above one +hundred quarters, yet remained some ripe and some blossoming, as many as ever +there were before: to the which place rode the Bishop of Norwich and the Lord +Willoughby, with others in great number, who found nothing but hard, rocky +stone the space of three yards under the roots of these peason, which roots +were great and long, and very sweet.” He tells us also that Gesner +learned from Dr. Cajus that there were enough there to supply thousands of men. +He goes on to say that “they without doubt grew there many years before, +but were not observed till hunger made them take notice of them, and quickened +their invention, which commonly in our people is very dull, especially in +finding out food of this nature. My worshipful friend Dr. Argent hath told me +that many years ago he was in this place, and caused his man to pull among the +beach with his hands, and follow the roots so long until he got some equal in +length unto his height, yet could come to no ends of them.” Gerard never +saw them, and is not certain what kind they were. +</p> + +<p> +In Dwight’s Travels in New England it is stated that the inhabitants of +Truro were formerly regularly warned under the authority of law in the month of +April yearly, to plant beachgrass, as elsewhere they are warned to repair the +highways. They dug up the grass in bunches, which were afterward divided into +several smaller ones, and set about three feet apart, in rows, so arranged as +to break joints and obstruct the passage of the wind. It spread itself rapidly, +the weight of the seeds when ripe bending the heads of the grass, and so +dropping directly by its side and vegetating there. In this way, for instance, +they built up again that part of the Cape between Truro and Provincetown where +the sea broke over in the last century. They have now a public road near there, +made by laying sods, which were full of roots, bottom upward and close together +on the sand, double in the middle of the track, then spreading brush evenly +over the sand on each side for half a dozen feet, planting beachgrass on the +banks in regular rows, as above described, and sticking a fence of brush +against the hollows. +</p> + +<p> +The attention of the general government was first attracted to the danger which +threatened Cape Cod Harbor from the inroads of the sand, about thirty years +ago, and commissioners were at that time appointed by Massachusetts, to examine +the premises. They reported in June, 1825, that, owing to “the trees and +brush having been cut down, and the beach-grass destroyed on the seaward side +of the Cape, opposite the Harbor,” the original surface of the ground had +been broken up and removed by the wind toward the Harbor,—during the +previous fourteen years,—over an extent of “one half a mile in +breadth, and about four and a half miles in length.”—“The +space where a few years since were some of the highest lands on the Cape, +covered with trees and bushes,” presenting “an extensive waste of +undulating sand”;—and that, during the previous twelve months, the +sand “had approached the Harbor an average distance of fifty rods, for an +extent of four and a half miles!” and unless some measures were adopted +to check its progress, it would in a few years destroy both the harbor and the +town. They therefore recommended that beach-grass be set out on a curving line +over a space ten rods wide and four and a half miles long, and that cattle, +horses, and sheep be prohibited from going abroad, and the inhabitants from +cutting the brush. +</p> + +<p> +I was told that about thirty thousand dollars in all had been appropriated to +this object, though it was complained that a great part of this was spent +foolishly, as the public money is wont to be. Some say that while the +government is planting beach-grass behind the town for the protection of the +harbor, the inhabitants are rolling the sand into the harbor in wheelbarrows, +in order to make house-lots. The Patent-Office has recently imported the seed +of this grass from Holland, and distributed it over the country, but probably +we have as much as the Hollanders. +</p> + +<p> +Thus Cape Cod is anchored to the heavens, as it were, by a myriad little cables +of beach-grass, and, if they should fail, would become a total wreck, and +erelong go to the bottom. Formerly, the cows were permitted to go at large, and +they ate many strands of the cable by which the Cape is moored, and well-nigh +set it adrift, as the bull did the boat which was moored with a grass rope; but +now they are not permitted to wander. +</p> + +<p> +A portion of Truro which has considerable taxable property on it has lately +been added to Provincetown, and I was told by a Truro man that his townsmen +talked of petitioning the legislature to set off the next mile of their +territory also to Provincetown, in order that she might have her share of the +lean as well as the fat, and take care of the road through it; for its whole +value is literally to hold the Cape together, and even this it has not always +done. But Provincetown strenuously declines the gift. +</p> + +<p> +The wind blowed so hard from the northeast that, cold as it was, we resolved to +see the breakers on the Atlantic side, whose din we had heard all the morning; +so we kept on eastward through the Desert, till we struck the shore again +northeast of Provincetown, and exposed ourselves to the full force of the +piercing blast. There are extensive shoals there over which the sea broke with +great force. For half a mile from the shore it was one mass of white breakers, +which, with the wind, made such a din that we could hardly hear ourselves +speak. Of this part of the coast it is said: “A northeast storm, the most +violent and fatal to seamen, as it is frequently accompanied with snow, blows +directly on the land: a strong current sets along the shore; add to which that +ships, during the operation of such a storm, endeavor to work northward, that +they may get into the bay. Should they be unable to weather Race Point, the +wind drives them on the shore, and a shipwreck is inevitable. Accordingly, the +strand is everywhere covered with the fragments of vessels.” But since +the Highland Light was erected, this part of the coast is less dangerous, and +it is said that more shipwrecks occur south of that light, where they were +scarcely known before. +</p> + +<div class="fig" style="width: 500px;"> +<a name="illus29"></a> +<img src="images/breakers.jpg" width="500" height="327" alt="The white breakers on the Atlantic side" title="" /> +<p class="caption">The white breakers on the Atlantic side</p> +</div> + +<p> +This was the stormiest sea that we witnessed,—more <i>tumultuous</i>, my +companion affirmed, than the rapids of Niagara, and, of course, on a far +greater scale. It was the ocean in a gale, a clear, cold day, with only one +sail in sight, which labored much, as if it were anxiously seeking a harbor. It +was high tide when we reached the shore, and in one place, for a considerable +distance, each wave dashed up so high that it was difficult to pass between it +and the bank. Further south, where the bank was higher, it would have been +dangerous to attempt it. A native of the Cape has told me that, many years ago, +three boys, his playmates, having gone to this beach in Wellfleet to visit a +wreck, when the sea receded ran down to the wreck, and when it came in ran +before it to the bank, but the sea following fast at their heels, caused the +bank to cave and bury them alive. +</p> + +<p> +It was the roaring sea, θάλασσα +ἠχήεσσα,— +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +ἀμφὶ δὲ τ’ +ἄκραι<br/> +Ἠϊόνες +βοόωσιν, +ἐρευγομένης +ἁλὸς ἔξω. +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +And the summits of the bank<br/> +Around resound, the sea being vomited forth. +</p> + +<p> +As we stood looking on this scene we were gradually convinced that fishing here +and in a pond were not, in all respects, the same, and that he who waits for +fair weather and a calm sea may never see the glancing skin of a mackerel, and +get no nearer to a cod than the wooden emblem in the State House. +</p> + +<p> +Having lingered on the shore till we were well-nigh chilled to death by the +wind, and were ready to take shelter in a Charity-house, we turned our +weather-beaten faces toward Provincetown and the Bay again, having now more +than doubled the Cape. +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +<a name="linknote-6" id="linknote-6"></a> <a href="#linknoteref-6">[1]</a> +<i>I. e.</i> a vessel. +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +<a name="linknote-7" id="linknote-7"></a> <a href="#linknoteref-7">[2]</a> +The sea, which is arched over its sandy bottom like a heaven. +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +<a name="linknote-8" id="linknote-8"></a> <a href="#linknoteref-8">[3]</a> +Battle. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap10"></a>X<br/> +PROVINCETOWN</h2> + +<p> +Early the next morning I walked into a fish-house near our hotel, where three +or four men were engaged in trundling out the pickled fish on barrows, and +spreading them to dry. They told me that a vessel had lately come in from the +Banks with forty-four thousand codfish. Timothy Dwight says that, just before +he arrived at Provincetown, “a schooner come in from the Great Bank with +fifty-six thousand fish, almost one thousand five hundred quintals, taken in a +single voyage; the main deck being, on her return, eight inches under water in +calm weather.” The cod in this fish-house, just out of the pickle, lay +packed several feet deep, and three or four men stood on them in cowhide boots, +pitching them on to the barrows with an instrument which had a single iron +point. One young man, who chewed tobacco, spat on the fish repeatedly. Well, +sir, thought I, when that older man sees you he will speak to you. But +presently I saw the older man do the same thing. It reminded me of the figs of +Smyrna. “How long does it take to cure these fish?” I asked. +</p> + +<p> +“Two good drying days, sir,” was the answer. +</p> + +<p> +I walked across the street again into the hotel to breakfast, and mine host +inquired if I would take “hashed fish or beans.” I took beans, +though they never were a favorite dish of mine. I found next summer that this +was still the only alternative proposed here, and the landlord was still +ringing the changes on these two words. In the former dish there was a +remarkable proportion of fish. As you travel inland the potato predominates. It +chanced that I did not taste fresh fish of any kind on the Cape, and I was +assured that they were not so much used there as in the country. That is where +they are cured, and where, sometimes, travellers are cured of eating them. No +fresh meat was slaughtered in Provincetown, but the little that was used at the +public houses was brought from Boston by the steamer. +</p> + +<div class="fig" style="width: 500px;"> +<a name="illus30"></a> +<img src="images/ptownharbor.jpg" width="500" height="317" alt="In Provincetown harbor" title="" /> +<p class="caption">In Provincetown harbor</p> +</div> + +<p> +A great many of the houses here were surrounded by fish-flakes close up to the +sills on all sides, with only a narrow passage two or three feet wide, to the +front door; so that instead of looking out into a flower or grass plot, you +looked on to so many square rods of cod turned wrong side outwards. These +parterres were said to be least like a flower-garden in a good drying day in +mid-summer. There were flakes of every age and pattern, and some so rusty and +overgrown with lichens that they looked as if they might have served the +founders of the fishery here. Some had broken down under the weight of +successive harvests. The principal employment of the inhabitants at this time +seemed to be to trundle out their fish and spread them in the morning, and +bring them in at night. I saw how many a loafer who chanced to be out early +enough got a job at wheeling out the fish of his neighbor who was anxious to +improve the whole of a fair day. Now, then, I knew where salt fish were caught. +They were everywhere lying on their backs, their collar-bones standing out like +the lapels of a man-o’-war-man’s jacket, and inviting all things to +come and rest in their bosoms; and all things, with a few exceptions, accepted +the invitation. I think, by the way, that if you should wrap a large salt fish +round a small boy, he would have a coat of such a fashion as I have seen many a +one wear to muster. Salt fish were stacked up on the wharves, looking like +corded wood, maple and yellow birch with the bark left on. I mistook them for +this at first, and such in one sense they were,—fuel to maintain our +vital fires,—an eastern wood which grew on the Grand Banks. Some were +stacked in the form of huge flower-pots, being laid in small circles with the +tails outwards, each circle successively larger than the preceding until the +pile was three or four feet high, when the circles rapidly diminished, so as to +form a conical roof. On the shores of New Brunswick this is covered with +birch-bark, and stones are placed upon it, and being thus rendered impervious +to the rain, it is left to season before being packed for exportation. +</p> + +<p> +It is rumored that in the fall the cows here are sometimes fed on +cod’s-heads! The godlike part of the cod, which, like the human head, is +curiously and wonderfully made, forsooth has but little less brain in +it,—coming to such an end I to be craunched by cows I I felt my own skull +crack from sympathy. What if the heads of men were to be cut off to feed the +cows of a superior order of beings who inhabit the islands in the ether? Away +goes your fine brain, the house of thought and instinct, to swell the cud of a +ruminant animal!—However, an inhabitant assured me that they did not make +a practice of feeding cows on cod’s-heads; the cows merely would eat them +sometimes; but I might live there all my days and never see it done. A cow +wanting salt would also sometimes lick out all the soft part of a cod on the +flakes. This he would have me believe was the foundation of this fish-story. +</p> + +<p> +It has been a constant traveller’s tale and perhaps slander, now for +thousands of years, the Latins and Greeks have repeated it, that this or that +nation feeds its cattle, or horses, or sheep, on fish, as may be seen in Ælian +and Pliny, but in the Journal of Nearchus, who was Alexander’s admiral, +and made a voyage from the Indus to the Euphrates three hundred and twenty-six +years before Christ, it is said that the inhabitants of a portion of the +intermediate coast, whom he called Ichthyophagi or Fish-eaters, not only ate +fishes raw and also dried and pounded in a whale’s vertebra for a mortar +and made into a paste, but gave them to their cattle, there being no grass on +the coast; and several modern travellers—Braybosa, Niebuhr, and +others—make the same report. Therefore in balancing the evidence I am +still in doubt about the Provincetown cows. As for other domestic animals, +Captain King in his continuation of Captain Cook’s Journal in 1779, says +of the dogs of Kamtschatka, “Their food in the winter consists entirely +of the heads, entrail, and backbones of salmon, which are put aside and dried +for that purpose; and with this diet they are fed but sparingly.” +(Cook’s Journal, Vol. VII., p. 315.) +</p> + +<p> +As we are treating of fishy matters, let me insert what Pliny says, that +“the commanders of the fleets of Alexander the Great have related that +the Gedrosi, who dwell on the banks of the river Arabis, are in the habit of +making the doors of their houses with the jaw-bones of fishes, and raftering +the roofs with their bones.” Strabo tells the same of the Ichthyophagi. +“Hardouin remarks that the Basques of his day were in the habit of +fencing their gardens with the ribs of the whale, which sometimes exceeded +twenty feet in length; and Cuvier says that at the present time the jaw-bone of +the whale is used in Norway for the purpose of making beams or posts for +buildings.” (Bohn’s ed., trans, of Pliny, Vol. II., p. 361.) +Herodotus says the inhabitants on Lake Prasias in Thrace (living on piles) +“give fish for fodder to their horses and beasts of burden.” +</p> + +<p> +Provincetown was apparently what is called a flourishing town. Some of the +inhabitants asked me if I did not think that they appeared to be well off +generally. I said that I did, and asked how many there were in the almshouse. +“O, only one or two, infirm or idiotic,” answered they. The outward +aspect of the houses and shops frequently suggested a poverty which their +interior comfort and even richness disproved. You might meet a lady daintily +dressed in the Sabbath morning, wading in among the sandhills, from church, +where there appeared no house fit to receive her, yet no doubt the interior of +the house answered to the exterior of the lady. As for the interior of the +inhabitants I am still in the dark about it. I had a little intercourse with +some whom I met in the street, and was often agreeably disappointed by +discovering the intelligence of rough, and what would be considered unpromising +specimens. Nay, I ventured to call on one citizen the next summer, by special +invitation. I found him sitting in his front doorway, that Sabbath evening, +prepared for me to come in unto him; but unfortunately for his reputation for +keeping open house, there was stretched across his gateway a circular cobweb of +the largest kind and quite entire. This looked so ominous that I actually +turned aside and went in the back way. +</p> + +<p> +This Monday morning was beautifully mild and calm, both on land and water, +promising us a smooth passage across the Bay, and the fishermen feared that it +would not be so good a drying day as the cold and windy one which preceded it. +There could hardly have been a greater contrast. This was the first of the +Indian summer days, though at a late hour in the morning we found the wells in +the sand behind the town still covered with ice, which had formed in the night. +What with wind and sun my most prominent feature fairly cast its slough. But I +assure you it will take more than two good drying days to cure me of rambling. +After making an excursion among the hills in the neighborhood of the +Shank-Painter Swamp, and getting a little work done in its line, we took our +seat upon the highest sand-hill overlooking the town, in mid-air, on a long +plank stretched across between two hillocks of sand, where some boys were +endeavoring in vain to fly their kite; and there we remained the rest of that +forenoon looking out over the placid harbor, and watching for the first +appearance of the steamer from Wellfleet, that we might be in readiness to go +on board when we heard the whistle off Long Point. +</p> + +<p> +We got what we could out of the boys in the meanwhile. Provincetown boys are of +course all sailors and have sailors’ eyes. When we were at the Highland +Light the last summer, seven or eight miles from Provincetown Harbor, and +wished to know one Sunday morning if the <i>Olata</i>, a well-known yacht, had +got in from Boston, so that we could return in her, a Provincetown boy about +ten years old, who chanced to be at the table, remarked that she had. I asked +him how he knew. “I just saw her come in,” said he. When I +expressed surprise that he could distinguish her from other vessels so far, he +said that there were not so many of those two-topsail schooners about but that +he could tell her. Palfrey said, in his oration at Barnstable, the duck does +not take to the water with a surer instinct than the Barnstable boy. [He might +have said the Cape Cod boy as well.] He leaps from his leading-strings into the +shrouds, it is but a bound from the mother’s lap to the masthead. He +boxes the compass in his infant soliloquies. He can hand, reef, and steer by +the time he flies a kite. +</p> + +<p> +This was the very day one would have chosen to sit upon a hill overlooking sea +and land, and muse there. The mackerel fleet was rapidly taking its departure, +one schooner after another, and standing round the Cape, like fowls leaving +their roosts in the morning to disperse themselves in distant fields. The +turtle-like sheds of the salt-works were crowded into every nook in the hills, +immediately behind the town, and their now idle windmills lined the shore. It +was worth the while to see by what coarse and simple chemistry this almost +necessary of life is obtained, with the sun for journeyman, and a single +apprentice to do the chores for a large establishment. It is a sort of tropical +labor, pursued too in the sunniest season; more interesting than gold or +diamond-washing, which, I fancy, it somewhat resembles at a distance. In the +production of the necessaries of life Nature is ready enough to assist man. So +at the potash works which I have seen at Hull, where they burn the stems of the +kelp and boil the ashes. Verily, chemistry is not a splitting of hairs when you +have got half a dozen raw Irishmen in the laboratory. It is said, that owing to +the reflection of the sun from the sand-hills, and there being absolutely no +fresh water emptying into the harbor, the same number of superficial feet +yields more salt here than in any other part of the county. A little rain is +considered necessary to clear the air, and make salt fast and good, for as +paint does not dry, so water does not evaporate in dog-day weather. But they +were now, as elsewhere on the Cape, breaking up their salt-works and selling +them for lumber. +</p> + +<p> +From that elevation we could overlook the operations of the inhabitants almost +as completely as if the roofs had been taken off. They were busily covering the +wicker-worked flakes about their houses with salted fish, and we now saw that +the back yards were improved for this purpose as much as the front; where one +man’s fish ended another’s began. In almost every yard we detected +some little building from which these treasures were being trundled forth and +systematically spread, and we saw that there was an art as well as a knack even +in spreading fish, and that a division of labor was profitably practised. One +man was withdrawing his fishes a few inches beyond the nose of his +neighbor’s cow which had stretched her neck over a paling to get at them. +It seemed a quite domestic employment, like drying clothes, and indeed in some +parts of the county the women take part in it. +</p> + +<p> +I noticed in several places on the Cape a sort of clothes-<i>flakes</i>. They +spread brush on the ground, and fence it round, and then lay their clothes on +it, to keep them from the sand. This is a Cape Cod clothes-yard. +</p> + +<p> +The sand is the great enemy here. The tops of some of the hills were enclosed +and a board put up, forbidding all persons entering the enclosure, lest their +feet should disturb the sand, and set it a-blowing or a-sliding. The +inhabitants are obliged to get leave from the authorities to cut wood behind +the town for fish-flakes, bean-poles, pea-brush, and the like, though, as we +were told, they may transplant trees from one part of the township to another +without leave. The sand drifts like snow, and sometimes the lower story of a +house is concealed by it, though it is kept off by a wall. The houses were +formerly built on piles, in order that the driving sand might pass under them. +We saw a few old ones here still standing on their piles, but they were boarded +up now, being protected by their younger neighbors. There was a school-house, +just under the hill on which we sat, filled with sand up to the tops of the +desks, and of course the master and scholars had fled. Perhaps they had +imprudently left the windows open one day, or neglected to mend a broken pane. +Yet in one place was advertised “Fine sand for sale here,”—I +could hardly believe my eyes,—probably some of the street sifted,—a +good instance of the fact that a man confers a value on the most worthless +thing by mixing himself with it, according to which rule we must have conferred +a value on the whole back-side of Cape Cod;—but I thought that if they +could have advertised “Fat Soil,” or perhaps “Fine sand got +rid of,” ay, and “Shoes emptied here,” it would have been +more alluring. As we looked down on the town, I thought that I saw one man, who +probably lived beyond the extremity of the planking, steering and tacking for +it in a sort of snow-shoes, but I may have been mistaken. In some pictures of +Provincetown the persons of the inhabitants are not drawn below the ankles, so +much being supposed to be buried in the sand. Nevertheless, natives of +Provincetown assured me that they could walk in the middle of the road without +trouble even in slippers, for they had learned how to put their feet down and +lift them up without taking in any sand. One man said that he should be +surprised if he found half a dozen grains of sand in his pumps at night, and +stated, moreover, that the young ladies had a dexterous way of emptying their +shoes at each step, which it would take a stranger a long time to learn. The +tires of the stage-wheels were about five inches wide; and the wagon-tires +generally on the Cape are an inch or two wider, as the sand is an inch or two +deeper than elsewhere. I saw a baby’s wagon with tires six inches wide to +keep it near the surface. The more tired the wheels, the less tired the horses. +Yet all the time that we were in Provincetown, which was two days and nights, +we saw only one horse and cart, and they were conveying a coffin. They did not +try such experiments there on common occasions. The next summer I saw only the +two-wheeled horse-cart which conveyed me thirty rods into the harbor on my way +to the steamer. Yet we read that there were two horses and two yoke of oxen +here in 1791, and we were told that there were several more when we were there, +beside the stage team. In Barber’s Historical Collections, it is said, +“So rarely are wheel-carriages seen in the place that they are a matter +of some curiosity to the younger part of the community. A lad who understood +navigating the ocean much better than land travel, on seeing a man driving a +wagon in the street, expressed his surprise at his being able to drive so +straight without the assistance of a rudder.” There was no rattle of +carts, and there would have been no rattle if there had been any carts. Some +saddle-horses that passed the hotel in the evening merely made the sand fly +with a rustling sound like a writer sanding his paper copiously, but there was +no sound of their tread. No doubt there are more horses and carts there at +present. A sleigh is never seen, or at least is a great novelty on the Cape, +the snow being either absorbed by the sand or blown into drifts. +</p> + +<p> +Nevertheless, the inhabitants of the Cape generally do not complain of their +“soil,” but will tell you that it is good enough for them to dry +their fish on. +</p> + +<p> +Notwithstanding all this sand, we counted three meeting-houses, and four +school-houses nearly as large, on this street, though some had a tight board +fence about them to preserve the plot within level and hard. Similar fences, +even within a foot of many of the houses, gave the town a less cheerful and +hospitable appearance than it would otherwise have had. They told us that, on +the whole, the sand had made no progress for the last ten years, the cows being +no longer permitted to go at large, and every means being taken to stop the +sandy tide. +</p> + +<p> +In 1727 Provincetown was “invested with peculiar privileges,” for +its encouragement. Once or twice it was nearly abandoned; but now lots on the +street fetch a high price, though titles to them were first obtained by +possession and improvement, and they are still transferred by quitclaim deeds +merely, the township being the property of the State. But though lots were so +valuable on the street, you might in many places throw a stone over them to +where a man could still obtain land, or sand, by squatting on or improving it. +</p> + +<div class="fig" style="width: 500px;"> +<a name="illus31"></a> +<img src="images/ptownvillage.jpg" width="500" height="306" alt="Provincetown—A bit of the village from the wharf" title="" /> +<p class="caption">Provincetown—A bit of the village from the wharf</p> +</div> + +<p> +Stones are very rare on the Cape. I saw a very few small stones used for +pavements and for bank walls, in one or two places in my walk, but they are so +scarce that, as I was informed, vessels have been forbidden to take them from +the beach for ballast, and therefore their crews used to land at night and +steal them. I did not hear of a rod of regular stone wall below Orleans. Yet I +saw one man underpinning a new house in Eastham with some “rocks,” +as he called them, which he said a neighbor had collected with great pains in +the course of years, and finally made over to him. This I thought was a gift +worthy of being recorded,—equal to a transfer of California +“rocks,” almost. Another man who was assisting him, and who seemed +to be a close observer of nature, hinted to me the locality of a rock in that +neighborhood which was “forty-two paces in circumference and fifteen feet +high,” for he saw that I was a stranger, and, probably, would not carry +it off. Yet I suspect that the locality of the few large rocks on the forearm +of the Cape is well known to the inhabitants generally. I even met with one man +who had got a smattering of mineralogy, but where he picked it up I could not +guess. I thought that he would meet with some interesting geological nuts for +him to crack, if he should ever visit the mainland, Cohasset, or Marblehead for +instance. +</p> + +<p> +The well stones at the Highland Light were brought from Hingham, but the wells +and cellars of the Cape are generally built of brick, which also are imported. +The cellars, as well as the wells, are made in a circular form, to prevent the +sand from pressing in the wall. The former are only from nine to twelve feet in +diameter, and are said to be very cheap, since a single tier of brick will +suffice for a cellar of even larger dimensions. Of course, if you live in the +sand, you will not require a large cellar to hold your roots. In Provincetown, +when formerly they suffered the sand to drive under their houses, obliterating +all rudiments of a cellar, they did not raise a vegetable to put into one. One +farmer in Wellfleet, who raised fifty bushels of potatoes, showed me his cellar +under a corner of his house, not more than nine feet in diameter, looking like +a cistern: but he had another of the same size under his barn. +</p> + +<p> +You need dig only a few feet almost anywhere near the shore of the Cape to find +fresh water. But that which we tasted was invariably poor. though the +inhabitants called it good, as if they were comparing it with salt water. In +the account of Truro, it is said. “Wells dug near the shore are dry at +low water, or rather at what is called young flood, but are replenished with +the flowing of the tide,”—- the salt water, which is lowest in the +sand, apparently forcing the fresh up. When you express your surprise at the +greenness of a Provincetown garden on the beach, in a dry season, they will +sometimes tell you that the tide forces the moisture up to them. It is an +interesting fact that low sand-bars in the midst of the ocean, perhaps even +those which are laid bare only at low tide, are reservoirs of fresh water at +which the thirsty mariner can supply himself. They appear, like huge sponges, +to hold the rain and dew which fall on them, and which, by capillary +attraction, are prevented from mingling with the surrounding brine. +</p> + +<p> +The Harbor of Provincetown—which, as well as the greater part of the Bay, +and a wide expanse of ocean, we overlooked from our perch—is deservedly +famous. It opens to the south, is free from rocks, and is never frozen over. It +is said that the only ice seen in it drifts in sometimes from Barnstable or +Plymouth. Dwight remarks that “The storms which prevail on the American +coast generally come from the east; and there is no other harbor on a windward +shore within two hundred miles.” J. D. Graham, who has made a very minute +and thorough survey of this harbor and the adjacent waters, states that +“its capacity, depth of water, excellent anchorage, and the complete +shelter it affords from all winds, combine to render it one of the most +valuable ship harbors on our coast.” It is <i>the</i> harbor of the Cape +and of the fishermen of Massachusetts generally. It was known to navigators +several years at least before the settlement of Plymouth. In Captain John +Smith’s map of New England, dated 1614, it bears the name of Milford +Haven, and Massachusetts Bay that of Stuard’s Bay. His Highness, Prince +Charles, changed the name of Cape Cod to Cape James; but even princes have not +always power to change a name for the worse, and as Cotton Mather said, Cape +Cod is “a name which I suppose it will never lose till shoals of codfish +be seen swimming on its highest hills.” +</p> + +<p> +Many an early voyager was unexpectedly caught by this hook, and found himself +embayed. On successive maps, Cape Cod appears sprinkled over with French, +Dutch, and English names, as it made part of New France, New Holland, and New +England. On one map Provincetown Harbor is called “Fuic (bownet?) +Bay,” Barnstable Bay “Staten Bay,” and the sea north of it +“Mare del Noort,” or the North Sea. On another, the extremity of +the Cape is called “Staten Hoeck,” or the States Hook. On another, +by Young, this has Noord Zee, Staten hoeck or Hit hoeck, but the copy at +Cambridge has no date; the whole Cape is called “Niew Hollant,” +(after Hudson); and on another still, the shore between Race Point and Wood End +appears to be called “Bevechier.” In Champlain’s admirable +Map of New France, including the oldest recognizable map of what is now the New +England coast with which I am acquainted, Cape Cod is called C. Blan (i.e. Cape +White), from the color of its sands, and Massachusetts Bay is Baye Blanche. It +was visited by De Monts and Champlain in 1605, and the next year was further +explored by Poitrincourt and Champlain. The latter has given a particular +account of these explorations in his “Voyages,” together with +separate charts and soundings of two of its harbors,—<i>Malle Barre</i>, +the Bad Bar (Nauset Harbor?), a name now applied to what the French called +<i>Cap Baturier</i>; and <i>Port Fortune</i>, apparently Chatham Harbor. Both +these names are copied on the map of “Novi Belgii,” in +Ogilvy’s America. He also describes minutely the manners and customs of +the savages, and represents by a plate the savages surprising the French and +killing five or six of them. The French afterward killed some of the natives, +and wished, by way of revenge, to carry off some and make them grind in their +hand-mill at Port Royal. +</p> + +<p> +It is remarkable that there is not in English any adequate or correct account +of the French exploration of what is now the coast of New England, between 1604 +and 1608, though it is conceded that they then made the first permanent +European settlement on the continent of North America north of St. Augustine. +If the lions had been the painters it would have been otherwise. This omission +is probably to be accounted for partly by the fact that the <i>early +edition</i> of Champlain’s “Voyages” had not been consulted +for this purpose. This contains by far the most particular, and, I think, the +most interesting chapter of what we may call the Ante-Pilgrim history of New +England, extending to one hundred and sixty pages quarto; but appears to be +unknown equally to the historian and the orator on Plymouth Rock. Bancroft does +not mention Champlain at all among the authorities for De Monts’s +expedition, nor does he say that he ever visited the coast of New England. +Though he bore the title of pilot to De Monts, he was, in <i>another sense</i>, +the leading spirit, as well as the historian of the expedition. Holmes, +Hildreth, and Barry, and apparently all our historians who mention Champlain, +refer to the edition of 1632, in which all the separate charts of our harbors, +etc., and about one-half the narrative, are omitted; for the author explored so +many lands afterward that he could afford to forget a part of what he had done. +Hildreth, speaking of De Monts’s expedition, says that “he looked +into the Penobscot [in 1605], which Pring had discovered two years +before,” saying nothing about Champlain’s extensive exploration of +it for De Monts in 1604 (Holmes says 1608, and refers to Purchas); also that he +followed in the track of Pring along the coast “to Cape Cod, which he +called Malabarre.” (Haliburton had made the same statement before him in +1829. He called it Cap Blanc, and Malle Barre (the Bad Bar) was the name given +to a harbor on the east side of the Cape). Pring says nothing about a river +there. Belknap says that Weymouth discovered it in 1605. Sir F. Gorges, says, +in his narration (Maine Hist. Coll., Vol. II., p. 19), 1658, that Pring in 1606 +“made a perfect discovery of all the rivers and harbors.” This is +the most I can find. Bancroft makes Champlain to have discovered more western +rivers in Maine, not naming the Penobscot; he, however, must have been the +discoverer of distances on this river (see Belknap, p. 147). Pring was absent +from England only about six months, and sailed by this part of Cape Cod +(Malabarre) because it yielded no sassafras, while the French, who probably +had not heard of Pring, were patiently for years exploring the coast in search +of a place of settlement, sounding and surveying its harbors. +</p> + +<p> +John Smith’s map, published in 1616, from observations in 1614-15, is by +many regarded as the oldest map of New England. It is the first that was made +after this country was called New England, for he so called it; but in +Champlain’s “Voyages,” edition 1613 (and Lescarbot, in 1612, +quotes a still earlier account of his voyage), there is a map of it made when +it was known to Christendom as New France, called <i>Carte Géographique de la +Nouvelle Franse faictte par le Sieur de Champlain Saint Tongois Cappitaine +ordinaire pour le roi en la Marine,—faict l’en 1612</i>, from his +observations between 1604 and 1607; a map extending from Labrador to Cape Cod +and westward <i>to the Great Lakes</i>, and crowded with information, +geographical, ethnographical, zoölogical, and botanical. He even gives the +variation of the compass as observed by himself at that date on many parts of +the coast. This, taken together with the many <i>separate charts</i> of harbors +and their soundings on a large scale, which this volume contains,—among +the rest. <i>Qui ni be quy</i> (Kennebec), <i>Chouacoit R.</i> (Saco R.), <i>Le +Beau port, Port St. Louis</i> (near Cape Ann), and others on our +coast,—but <i>which are not in the edition of 1632</i>, makes this a +completer map of the New England and adjacent northern coast than was made for +half a century afterward, almost, we might be allowed to say, till another +Frenchman, Des Barres, made another for us, which only our late Coast Survey +has superseded. Most of the maps of this coast made for a long time after +betray their indebtedness to Champlain. He was a skilful navigator, a man of +science, and geographer to the King of France. He crossed the Atlantic about +twenty times, and made nothing of it; often in a small vessel in which few +would dare to go to sea today; and on one occasion making the voyage from +Tadoussac to St. Malo in eighteen days. He was in this neighborhood, that is, +between Annapolis, Nova Scotia, and Cape Cod, observing the land and its +inhabitants, and making a map of the coast, from May, 1604, to September, 1607, +<i>or about three and a half years</i>, and he has described minutely his +method of surveying harbors. By his own account, a part of his map was engraved +in 1604 (?). When Pont-Gravé and others returned to France in 1606, he remained +at Port Royal with Poitrincourt, “in order,” says he, “by the +aid of God, to finish the chart of the coasts which I had begun”; and +again in his volume, printed before John Smith visited this part of America, he +says: “It seems to me that I have done my duty as far as I could, if I +have not forgotten to put in my said chart whatever I saw, and give a +particular knowledge to the public of what had never been described nor +discovered so particularly as I have done it, although some other may have +heretofore written of it; but it was a very small affair in comparison with +what we have discovered within the last ten years.” +</p> + +<p> +It is not generally remembered, if known, by the descendants of the Pilgrims, +that when their forefathers were spending their first memorable winter in the +New World, they had for neighbors a colony of French no further off than Port +Royal (Annapolis, Nova Scotia), three hundred miles distant (Prince seems to +make it about five hundred miles); where, in spite of many vicissitudes, they +had been for fifteen years. They built a grist-mill there as early as 1606; +also made bricks and turpentine on a stream, Williamson says, in 1606. De +Monts, who was a Protestant, brought his minister with him, who came to blows +with the Catholic priest on the subject of religion. Though these founders of +Acadie endured no less than the Pilgrims, and about the same proportion of +them—thirty-five out of seventy-nine (Williamson’s Maine says +thirty-six out of seventy)—died the first winter at St. Croix, 1604-5, +sixteen years earlier, no orator, to my knowledge, has ever celebrated their +enterprise (Williamson’s History of Maine does considerably), while the +trials which their successors and descendants endured at the hands of the +English have furnished a theme for both the historian and poet. (See +Bancroft’s History and Longfellow’s Evangeline.) The remains at +their fort at St. Croix were discovered at the end of the last century, and +helped decide where the true St. Croix, our boundary, was. +</p> + +<p> +The very gravestones of those Frenchmen are probably older than the oldest +English monument in New England north of the Elizabeth Islands, or perhaps +anywhere in New England, for if there are any traces of Gosnold’s +storehouse left, his strong works are gone. Bancroft says, advisedly, in 1834, +“It requires a believing eye to discern the ruins of the fort”; and +that there were no ruins of a fort in 1837. Dr. Charles T. Jackson tells me +that, in the course of a geological survey in 1827, he discovered a gravestone, +a slab of trap rock, on Goat Island, opposite Annapolis (Port Royal), in Nova +Scotia, bearing a Masonic coat-of-arms and the date 1606, which is fourteen +years earlier than the landing of the Pilgrims. This was left in the possession +of Judge Haliburton, of Nova Scotia. +</p> + +<p> +There were Jesuit priests in what has since been called New England, converting +the savages at Mount Desert, then St. Savior, in 1613,—having come over +to Port Royal in 1611, though they were almost immediately interrupted by the +English, years before the Pilgrims came hither to enjoy their own religion. +This according to Champlain. Charlevoix says the same; and after coming from +France in 1611, went west from Port Royal along the coast as far as the +Kennebec in 1612, and was often carried from Port Royal to Mount Desert. +</p> + +<p> +Indeed, the Englishman’s history of <i>New</i> England commences only +when it ceases to be <i>New</i> France. Though Cabot was the first to discover +the continent of North America, Champlain, in the edition of his +“Voyages” printed in 1632, after the English had for a season got +possession of Quebec and Port Royal, complains with no little justice: +“The common consent of all Europe is to represent New France as extending +at least to the thirty-fifth and thirty-sixth degrees of latitude, as appears +by the maps of the world printed in Spain, Italy, Holland, Flanders, Germany, +and England, until they possessed themselves of the coasts of New France, where +are Acadie, the Etchemins (Maine and New Brunswick), the Almouchicois +(Massachusetts?), and the Great River St. Lawrence, where they have imposed, +according to their fancy, such names as New England, Scotland, and others; but +it is not easy to efface the memory of a thing which is known to all +Christendom.” +</p> + +<p> +That Cabot merely landed on the uninhabitable shore of Labrador, gave the +English no just title to New England, or to the United States, generally, any +more than to Patagonia. His careful biographer (Biddle) is not certain in what +voyage he ran down the coast of the United States as is reported, and no one +tells us what he saw. Miller, in the New York Hist. Coll., Vol. I., p. 28, says +he does not appear to have landed anywhere. Contrast with this +Verrazzani’s tarrying fifteen days at one place on the New England coast, +and making frequent excursions into the interior thence. It chances that the +latter’s letter to Francis I., in 1524, contains “the earliest +original account extant of the Atlantic coast of the United States”; and +even from that time the northern part of it began to be called <i>La Terra +Francese</i>, or French Land. A part of it was called New Holland before it was +called New England. The English were very backward to explore and settle the +continent which they had stumbled upon. The French preceded them both in their +attempts to colonize the continent of North America (Carolina and Florida, +1562-4), and in their first permanent settlement (Port Royal, 1605); and the +right of possession, naturally enough, was the one which England mainly +respected and recognized in the case of Spain, of Portugal, and also of France, +from the time of Henry VII. +</p> + +<p> +The explorations of the French gave to the world the first valuable maps of +these coasts. Denys of Honfleur made a map of the Gulf of St. Lawrence in 1506. +No sooner had Cartier explored the St. Lawrence, in 1535, than there began to +be published by his countrymen remarkably accurate charts of that river as far +up as Montreal. It is almost all of the continent north of Florida that you +recognize on charts for more than a generation afterward,—though +Verrazzani’s rude plot (made under French auspices) was regarded by +Hackluyt, more than fifty years after his voyage (in 1524), as the most +accurate representation of our coast. The French trail is distinct. They went +measuring and sounding, and when they got home had something to show for their +voyages and explorations. There was no danger of their charts being lost, as +Cabot’s have been. +</p> + +<p> +The most distinguished navigators of that day were Italians, or of Italian +descent, and Portuguese. The French and Spaniards, though less advanced in the +science of navigation than the former, possessed more imagination and spirit of +adventure than the English, and were better fitted to be the explorers of a new +continent even as late as 1751. +</p> + +<p> +This spirit it was which so early carried the French to the Great Lakes and the +Mississippi on the north, and the Spaniard to the same river on the south. It +was long before our frontiers reached their settlements in the west, and a +<i>voyageur</i> or <i>coureur de bois</i> is still our conductor there. Prairie +is a French word, as Sierra is a Spanish one. Augustine in Florida, and Santa +Fé in New Mexico [1582], both built by the Spaniards, are considered the oldest +towns in the United States. Within the memory of the oldest man, the +Anglo-Americans were confined between the Appalachian Mountains and the sea, +“a space not two hundred miles broad,” while the Mississippi was by +treaty the eastern boundary of New France. (See the pamphlet on settling the +Ohio, London, 1763, bound up with the travels of Sir John Bartram.) So far as +inland discovery was concerned, the adventurous spirit of the English was that +of sailors who land but for a day, and their enterprise the enterprise of +traders. Cabot spoke like an Englishman, as he was, if he said, as one reports, +in reference to the discovery of the American Continent, when he found it +running toward the north, that it was a great disappointment to him, being in +his way to India; but we would rather add to than detract from the fame of so +great a discoverer. +</p> + +<p> +Samuel Penhallow, in his history (Boston, 1726), p. 51, speaking of “Port +Royal and Nova Scotia,” says of the last that its “first seizure +was by Sir Sebastian Cobbet for the crown of Great Britain, in the reign of +King Henry VII.; but lay dormant till the year 1621,” when Sir William +Alexander got a patent of it, and possessed it some years; and afterward Sir +David Kirk was proprietor of it, but erelong, “to the surprise of all +thinking men, it was given up unto the French.” +</p> + +<p> +Even as late as 1633 we find Winthrop, the first Governor of the Massachusetts +Colony, who was not the most likely to be misinformed, who, moreover, has the +<i>fame</i>, at least, of having discovered Wachusett Mountain (discerned it +forty miles inland), talking about the “Great Lake” and the +“hideous swamps about it,” near which the Connecticut and the +“Potomack” took their rise; and among the memorable events of the +year 1642 he chronicles Darby Field, an Irishman’s expedition to the +“White hill,” from whose top he saw eastward what he “judged +to be the Gulf of Canada,” and westward what he “judged to be the +great lake which Canada River comes out of,” and where he found much +“Muscovy glass,” and “could rive out pieces of forty feet +long and seven or eight broad.” While the very inhabitants of New England +were thus fabling about the country a hundred miles inland, which was a +<i>terra incognita</i> to them,—or rather many years before the earliest +date referred to,—Champlain, the <i>first Governor of Canada</i>, not to +mention the inland discoveries of Cartier,<a href="#linknote-9" +name="linknoteref-9" id="linknoteref-9"><sup>[1]</sup></a> Roberval, and +others, of the preceding century, and his own earlier voyage, had already gone +to war against the Iroquois in their forest forts, and penetrated to the Great +Lakes and wintered there, before a Pilgrim had heard of New England. +</p> + +<p> +In Champlain’s “Voyages,” printed in 1613, there is a plate +representing a fight in which he aided the Canada Indians against the Iroquois, +near the south end of Lake Champlain, in July, 1609, eleven years before the +settlement of Plymouth. Bancroft says he joined the Algonquins in an expedition +against the Iroquois, or Five Nations, in the northwest of New York. This is +that “Great Lake,” which the English, hearing some rumor of from +the French, long after, locate in an “Imaginary Province called Laconia, +and spent several years about 1630 in the vain attempt to discover.” (Sir +Ferdinand Gorges, in Maine Hist. Coll., Vol. II., p. 68.) Thomas Morton has a +chapter on this “Great Lake.” In the edition of Champlain’s +map dated 1632, the Falls of Niagara appear; and in a great lake northwest of +<i>Mer Douce</i> (Lake Huron) there is an island represented, over which is +written, “<i>Isle ou il y a une mine de +cuivre</i>,”—“Island where there is a mine of copper.” +This will do for an offset to our Governor’s “Muscovy Glass.” +Of all these adventures and discoveries we have a minute and faithful account, +giving facts and dates as well as charts and soundings, all scientific and +Frenchman-like, with scarcely one fable or traveller’s story. +</p> + +<p> +Probably Cape Cod was visited by Europeans long before the seventeenth century. +It may be that Cabot himself beheld it. Verrazzani, in 1524, according to his +own account, spent fifteen days on our coast, in latitude 41° 40 minutes (some +suppose in the harbor of Newport), and often went five or six leagues into the +interior there, and he says that he sailed thence at once one hundred and fifty +leagues northeasterly, <i>always in sight of the coast</i>. There is a chart in +Hackluyt’s “Divers Voyages,” made according to +Verrazzani’s plot, which last is praised for its accuracy by Hackluyt, +but I cannot distinguish Cape Cod on it, unless it is the “C. +Arenas,” which is in the right latitude, though ten degrees west of +“Claudia,” which is thought to be Block Island. +</p> + +<p> +The “Biographic Universelle” informs us that “An ancient +manuscript chart drawn in 1529 by Diego Ribeiro, a Spanish cosmographer, has +preserved the memory of the voyage of Gomez [a Portuguese sent out by Charles +the Fifth]. One reads in it under (<i>au dessous</i>) the place occupied by the +States of New York, Connecticut, and Rhode Island, <i>Terre d’Etienne +Gomez, qu’il découvrit en</i> 1525 (Land of Etienne Gomez, which he +discovered in 1525).” This chart, with a memoir, was published at Weimar +in the last century. +</p> + +<p> +Jean Alphonse, Roberval’s pilot in Canada in 1642, one of the most +skilful navigators of his time, and who has given remarkably minute and +accurate direction for sailing up the St. Lawrence, showing that he knows what +he is talking about, says in his “<i>Routier</i>” (it is in +Hackluyt), “I have been at a bay as far as the forty-second degree, +between Norimbegue [the Penobscot?] and Florida, but I have not explored the +bottom of it, and I do not know whether it passes from one land to the +other,” <i>i.e.</i> to Asia. (“ J’ai été à une Baye +jusques par les 42<sup>e</sup> degres entre la Norimbegue et la Floride; mais je n’en +ai pas cherché le fond, et ne sçais pas si elle passe d’une terre +à l’autre.”) This may refer to Massachusetts Bay, if not +possibly to the western inclination of the coast a little farther south. When +he says, “I have no doubt that the Norimbegue enters into the river of +Canada,” he is perhaps so interpreting some account which the Indians had +given respecting the route from the St. Lawrence to the Atlantic by the St. +John, or Penobscot, or possibly even the Hudson River. +</p> + +<p> +We hear rumors of this country of “Norumbega” and its great city +from many quarters. In a discourse by a great French sea-captain in +Ramusio’s third volume (1556-65), this is said to be the name given to +the land by its inhabitants, and Verrazzani is called the discoverer of it; +another in 1607 makes the natives call it, or the river, Aguncia. It is +represented as an island on an accompanying chart. It is frequently spoken of +by old writers as a country of indefinite extent, between Canada and Florida, +and it appears as a large island with Cape Breton at its eastern extremity, on +the map made according to Verrazzani’s plot in Hackluyt’s +“Divers Voyages.” These maps and rumors may have been the origin of +the notion, common among the early settlers, that New England was an island. +The country and city of Norumbega appear about where Maine now is on a map in +Ortelius (“Theatrum Orbis Terrarum,” Antwerp, 1570), and the +“R. Grande” is drawn where the Penobscot or St. John might be. +</p> + +<p> +In 1604, Champlain being sent by the Sieur de Monts to explore the coast of +Norumbegue, sailed up the Penobscot twenty-two or twenty-three leagues from +“Isle Haute,” or till he was stopped by the falls. He says: +“I think that this river is that which many pilots and historians call +Norumbegue, and which the greater part have described as great and spacious, +with numerous islands; and its entrance in the forty-third or forty-third and +one half or, according to others, the forty-fourth degree of latitude, more or +less.” He is convinced that “the greater part” of those who +speak of a great city there have never seen it, but repeat a mere rumor, but he +thinks that some have seen the mouth of the river since it answers to their +description. +</p> + +<p> +Under date of 1607 Champlain writes: “Three or four leagues north of the +Cap de Poitrincourt [near the head of the Bay of Fundy in Nova Scotia] we found +a cross, which was very old, covered with moss and almost all decayed, which +was an evident sign that there had formerly been Christians there.” +</p> + +<p> +Also the following passage from Lescarbot will show how much the neighboring +coasts were frequented by Europeans in the sixteenth century. Speaking of his +return from Port Royal to France in 1607, he says: “At last, within four +leagues of Campseau [the Gut of Canso], we arrived at a harbor [in Nova +Scotia], where a worthy old gentleman from St. John de Lus, named Captain +Savale, was fishing, who received us with the utmost courtesy. And as this +harbor, which is small, but very good, has no name, I have given it on my +geographical chart the name of Savalet. [It is on Champlain’s map also.] +This worthy man told us that this voyage was the forty-second which he had made +to those parts, and yet the Newfoundlanders [<i>Terre neuviers</i>] make only +one a year. He was wonderfully content with his fishery, and informed us that +he made daily fifty crowns’ worth of cod, and that his voyage would be +worth ten thousand francs. He had sixteen men in his employ; and his vessel was +of eighty tons, which could carry a hundred thousand dry cod.” (Histoire +de la Nouvelle France, 1612.) They dried their fish on the rocks on shore. +</p> + +<p> +The “Isola della Réna” (Sable Island?) appears on the chart of +“Nuova Francia” and Norumbega, accompanying the +“Discourse” above referred to in Ramusio’s third volume, +edition 1556-65. Champlain speaks of there being at the Isle of Sable, in 1604, +“grass pastured by oxen (<i>bœufs</i>) and cows which the Portuguese +carried there more than sixty years ago,” <i>i.e.</i> sixty years before +1613; in a later edition he says, which came out of a Spanish vessel which was +lost in endeavoring to settle on the Isle of Sable; and he states that De la +Roche’s men, who were left on this island seven years from 1598, lived on +the flesh of these cattle which they found “<i>en quantie)</i>,” +and built houses out of the wrecks of vessels which came to the island +(“perhaps Gilbert’s”), there being no wood or stone. +Lescarbot says that they lived “on fish and the milk of cows left there +about eighty years before by Baron de Leri and Saint Just.” Charlevoix +says they ate up the cattle and then lived on fish. Haliburton speaks of cattle +left there as a rumor. De Leri and Saint Just had suggested plans of +colonization on the Isle of Sable as early as 1515 (1508?) according to +Bancroft, referring to Charlevoix. These are but a few of the instances which I +might quote. +</p> + +<p> +Cape Cod is commonly said to have been discovered in 1602. We will consider at +length under what circumstances, and with what observation and expectations, +the first Englishmen whom history clearly discerns approached the coast of New +England. According to the accounts of Archer and Brereton (both of whom +accompanied Gosnold), on the 26th of March, 1602, old style, Captain +Bartholomew Gosnold set sail from Falmouth, England, for the North part of +Virginia, in a small bark called the <i>Concord</i>, they being in all, says +one account, “thirty-two persons, whereof eight mariners and sailors, +twelve purposing upon the discovery to return with the ship for England, the +rest remain there for population.” This is regarded as “the first +attempt of the English to make a settlement within the limits of New +England.” Pursuing a new and a shorter course than the usual one by the +Canaries, “the 14th of April following” they had sight of Saint +Mary’s, an island of the Azores. As their sailors were few and +“none of the best” (I use their own phrases), and they were +“going upon an unknown coast,” they were not “overbold to +stand in with the shore but in open weather”; so they made their first +discovery of land with the lead. The 23d of April the ocean appeared yellow, +but on taking up some of the water in a bucket, “it altered not either in +color or taste from the sea azure.” The 7th of May they saw divers birds +whose names they knew, and many others in their “English tongue of no +name.” The 8th of May “the water changed to a yellowish green, +where at seventy fathoms” they “had ground.” The 9th, they +had upon their lead “many glittering stones,”—“which +might promise some mineral matter in the bottom.” The 10th, they were +over a bank which they thought to be near the western end of St. John’s +Island, and saw schools of fish. The 12th, they say, “continually passed +fleeting by us sea-oare, which seemed to have their movable course towards the +northeast.” On the 13th, they observed “great beds of weeds, much +wood, and divers things else floating by,” and “had smelling of the +shore much as from the southern Cape and Andalusia in Spain.” On Friday, +the 14th, early in the morning they descried land on the north, in the latitude +of forty-three degrees, apparently some part of the coast of Maine. Williamson +(History of Maine) says it certainly could not have been south of the central +Isle of Shoals. Belknap inclines to think it the south side of Cape Ann. +Standing fair along by the shore, about twelve o’clock the same day, they +came to anchor and were visited by eight savages, who came off to them +“in a Biscay shallop, with sail and oars,”—“an iron +grapple, and a kettle of copper.” These they at first mistook for +“Christians distressed.” One of them was “apparelled with a +waistcoat and breeches of black serge, made after our sea-fashion, hoes and +shoes on his feet; all the rest (saving one that had a pair of breeches of blue +cloth) were naked.” They appeared to have had dealings with “some +Basques of St. John de Luz, and to understand much more than we,” say the +English, “for want of language, could comprehend.” But they soon +“set sail westward, leaving them and their coast.” (This was a +remarkable discovery for discoverers.) +</p> + +<p> +“The 15th day,” writes Gabriel Archer, “we had again sight of +the land, which made ahead, being as we thought an island, by reason of a large +sound that appeared westward between it and the main, for coming to the west +end thereof, we did perceive a large opening, we called it Shoal Hope. Near +this cape we came to anchor in fifteen fathoms, where we took great store of +cod-fish, for which we altered the name and called it Cape Cod. Here we saw +skulls of herring, mackerel, and other small fish, in great abundance. This is +a low sandy shoal, but without danger; also we came to anchor again in sixteen +fathoms, fair by the land in the latitude of forty-two degrees. This Cape is +well near a mile broad, and lieth northeast by east. The captain went here +ashore, and found the ground to be full of peas, strawberries, whortleberries, +etc., as then unripe, the sand also by the shore somewhat deep; the firewood +there by us taken in was of cypress, birch, witch-hazel, and beach. A young +Indian came here to the captain, armed with his bow and arrows, and had certain +plates of copper hanging at his ears; he showed a willingness to help us in our +occasions.” +</p> + +<p> +“The 16th we trended the coast southerly, which was all champaign and +full of grass, but the islands somewhat woody.” +</p> + +<p> +Or, according to the account of John Brereton, “riding here,” that +is, where they first communicated with the natives, “in no very good +harbor, and withal doubting the weather, about three of the clock the same day +in the afternoon we weighed, and standing southerly off into sea the rest of +that day and the night following, with a fresh gale of wind, in the morning we +found ourselves embayed with a mighty headland; but coming to an anchor about +nine of the clock the same day, within a league of the shore, we hoisted out +the one half of our shallop, and Captain Bartholomew Gosnold, myself and three +others, went ashore, being a white sandy and very bold shore; and marching all +that afternoon with our muskets on our necks, on the highest hills which we saw +(the weather very hot), at length we perceived this headland to be parcel of +the main, and sundry islands lying almost round about it; so returning towards +evening to our shallop (for by that time the other part was brought ashore and +set together), we espied an Indian, a young man of proper stature, and of a +pleasing countenance, and after some familiarity with him, we left him at the +sea side, and returned to our ship, where in five or six hours’ absence +we had pestered our ship so with codfish, that we threw numbers of them +overboard again; and surely I am persuaded that in the months of March, April, +and May, there is upon this coast better fishing, and in as great plenty, as in +Newfoundland; for the skulls of mackerel, herrings, cod, and other fish, that +we daily saw as we went and came from the shore, were wonderful,” etc. +</p> + +<p> +“From this place we sailed round about this headland, almost all the +points of the compass, the shore very bold; but as no coast is free from +dangers, so I am persuaded this is as free as any. The land somewhat low, full +of goodly woods, but in some places plain.” +</p> + +<p> +It is not quite clear on which side of the Cape they landed. If it was inside, +as would appear from Brereton’s words, “From this place we sailed +round about this headland almost all the points of the compass,” it must +have been on the western shore either of Truro or Wellfleet. To one sailing +south into Barnstable Bay along the Cape, the only “white, sandy, and +very bold shore” that appears is in these towns, though the bank is not +so high there as on the eastern side. At a distance of four or five miles the +sandy cliffs there look like a long fort of yellow sandstone, they are so level +and regular, especially in Wellfleet,—the fort of the land defending +itself against the encroachments of the Ocean. They are streaked here and there +with a reddish sand as if painted. Farther south the shore is more flat, and +less <i>obviously</i> and abruptly sandy, and a little tinge of green here and +there in the marshes appears to the sailor like a rare and precious emerald. +But in the Journal of Pring’s Voyage the next year (and Salterne, who was +with Pring, had accompanied Gosnold) it is said, “Departing hence +[<i>i.e.</i> from Savage Rocks] we bore unto that great gulf which Captain +Gosnold overshot the year before.”<a href="#linknote-10" +name="linknoteref-10" id="linknoteref-10"><sup>[2]</sup></a> +</p> + +<p> +So they sailed round the Cape, calling the southeasterly extremity “Point +Cave,” till they came to an island which they named Martha’s +Vineyard (now called No Man’s Land), and another on which they dwelt +awhile, which they named Elizabeth’s Island, in honor of the Queen, one +of the group since so called, now known by its Indian name Cuttyhunk. There +they built a small storehouse, the first house built by the English in New +England, whose cellar could recently still be seen, made partly of stones taken +from the beach. Bancroft says (edition of 1837), the ruins of the fort can no +longer be discerned. They who were to have remained becoming discontented, all +together set sail for England with a load of sassafras and other commodities, +on the 18th of June following. +</p> + +<p> +The next year came Martin Pring, looking for sassafras, and thereafter they +began to come thick and fast, until long after sassafras had lost its +reputation. +</p> + +<p> +These are the oldest accounts which we have of Cape Cod, unless, perchance, Cape +Cod is, as some suppose, the same with that “Kial-ar-nes” or +Keel-Cape, on which, according to old Icelandic manuscripts, Thorwald, son of +Eric the Red, after sailing many days southwest from Greenland, broke his keel +in the year 1004; and where, according to another, in some respects less +trustworthy manuscript, Thor-finn Karlsefue (“that is, one who promises +or is destined to be an able or great man”; he is said to have had a son +born in New England, from whom Thorwaldsen the sculptor was descended), +sailing past, in the year 1007, with his wife Gudrida, Snorre Thorbrandson, +Biarne Grinolfson, and Thorhall Garnlason, distinguished Norsemen, in three +ships containing “one hundred and sixty men and all sorts of live +stock” (probably the first Norway rats among the rest), having the land +“on the right side” of them, “roved ashore,” and found +“<i>ör-æfi</i> (trackless deserts),” and “<i>Strand-ir +láng-ar ok sand-ar</i> (long narrow beaches and sand-hills),” and +“called the shores <i>Furdustrand-ir</i> (Wonder-Strands), because the +sailing by them seemed long.” +</p> + +<p> +According to the Icelandic manuscripts, <i>Thorwald</i> was the first, +then,—unless possibly one Biarne Heriulfson (<i>i.e.</i> son of Heriulf) +who had been seized with a great desire to travel, sailing from Iceland to +Greenland in the year 986 to join his father who had migrated thither, for he +had resolved, says the manuscript, “to spend the following winter, like +all the preceding ones, with his father,”—being driven far to the +southwest by a storm, when it cleared up saw the low land of Cape Cod looming +faintly in the distance; but this not answering to the description of +Greenland, he put his vessel about, and, sailing northward along the coast, at +length reached Greenland and his father. At any rate, he may put forth a strong +claim to be regarded as the discoverer of the American continent. +</p> + +<p> +These Northmen were a hardy race, whose younger sons inherited the ocean, and +traversed it without chart or compass, and they are said to have been +“the first who learned the art of sailing on a wind.” Moreover, +they had a habit of casting their door-posts overboard and settling wherever +they went ashore. But as Biarne, and Thorwald, and Thorfinn have not mentioned +the latitude and longitude distinctly enough, though we have great respect for +them as skilful and adventurous navigators, we must for the present remain in +doubt as to what capes they did see. We think that they were considerably +further north. +</p> + +<p> +If time and space permitted, I could present the claims of other several worthy +persons. Lescarbot, in 1609, asserts that the French sailors had been +accustomed to frequent the Newfoundland Banks from time immemorial, “for +the codfish with which they feed almost all Europe and supply all sea-going +vessels,” and accordingly “the language of the nearest lands is +half Basque”; and he quotes Postel, a learned but extravagant French +author, born in 1510, only six years after the Basques, Bretons, and Normans +are said to have discovered the Grand Bank and adjacent islands, as saying, in +his <i>Charte Géographique</i>, which we have not seen: “Terra haec ob +lucrosissimam piscationis utilitatem summa litterarum memoria a Gallis adiri +solita, et ante mille sexcentos annos frequentari solita est; sed eo quod sit +urbibus inculta et vasta, spreta est.” “This land, on account of +its very lucrative fishery, was accustomed to be visited by the Gauls from the +very dawn of history, and more than sixteen hundred years ago was accustomed to +be frequented; but because it was unadorned with cities, and waste, it was +despised.” +</p> + +<p> +It is the old story. Bob Smith discovered the mine, but I discovered it to the +world. And now Bob Smith is putting in his claim. +</p> + +<p> +But let us not laugh at Postel and his visions. He was perhaps better posted up +than we; and if he does seem to draw the long bow, it may be because he had a +long way to shoot,—quite across the Atlantic, If America was found and +lost again once, as most of us believe, then why not twice? especially as there +were likely to be so few records of an earlier discovery. Consider what stuff +history is made of,—that for the most part it is merely a story agreed on +by posterity. Who will tell us even how many Russians were engaged in the +battle of the Chernaya, the other day? Yet no doubt, Mr. Scriblerus, the +historian, will fix on a definite number for the schoolboys to commit to their +excellent memories. What, then, of the number of Persians at Salamis? The +historian whom I read knew as much about the position of the parties and their +tactics in the last-mentioned affair, as they who describe a recent battle in +an article for the press now-a-days, before the particulars have arrived. I +believe that, if I were to live the life of mankind over again myself (which I +would not be hired to do), with the Universal History in my hands, I should not +be able to tell what was what. +</p> + +<p> +Earlier than the date Postel refers to, at any rate. Cape Cod lay in utter +darkness to the civilized world, though even then the sun rose from eastward +out of the sea every day, and, rolling over the Cape, went down westward into +the Bay. It was even then Cape and Bay,—ay, the Cape of <i>Codfish</i>, +and the Bay of the <i>Massachusetts</i>, perchance. +</p> + +<p> +Quite recently, on the 11th of November, 1620, old style, as is well known, the +Pilgrims in the <i>Mayflower</i> came to anchor in Cape Cod harbor. They had +loosed from Plymouth, England, the 6th of September, and, in the words of +“Mourts’ Relation,” “after many difficulties in +boisterous storms, at length, by God’s providence, upon the 9th of +November, we espied land, which we deemed to be Cape Cod, and so afterward it +proved. Upon the 11th of November we came to anchor in the bay, which is a good +harbor and pleasant bay, circled round except in the entrance, which is about +four miles over from land to land, compassed about to the very sea with oaks, +pines, juniper, sassafras, and other sweet wood. It is a harbor wherein a +thousand sail of ships may safely ride. There we relieved ourselves with wood +and water, and refreshed our people, while our shallop was fitted to coast the +bay, to search for an habitation.” There we put up at Fuller’s +Hotel, passing by the Pilgrim House as too high for us (we learned afterward +that we need not have been so particular), and we refreshed ourselves with +hashed fish and beans, beside taking in a supply of liquids (which were not +intoxicating), while our legs were refitted to coast the back-side. Further say +the Pilgrims: “We could not come near the shore by three quarters of an +English mile, because of shallow water; which was a great prejudice to us; for +our people going on shore were forced to wade a bow-shot or two in going aland, +which caused many to get colds and coughs; for it was many times freezing cold +weather.” They afterwards say: “It brought much weakness amongst +us”; and no doubt it led to the death of some at Plymouth. +</p> + +<p> +The harbor of Provincetown is very shallow near the shore, especially about the +head, where the Pilgrims landed. When I left this place the next summer, the +steamer could not get up to the wharf, but we were carried out to a large boat +in a cart as much as thirty rods in shallow water, while a troop of little boys +kept us company, wading around, and thence we pulled to the steamer by a rope. +The harbor being thus shallow and sandy about the shore, coasters are +accustomed to run in here to paint their vessels, which are left high and dry +when the tide goes down. +</p> + +<p> +It chanced that the Sunday morning that we were there, I had joined a party of +men who were smoking and lolling over a pile of boards on one of the wharves +(<i>nihil humanum a me, etc</i>.), when our landlord, who was a sort of +tithing-man, went off to stop some sailors who were engaged in painting their +vessel. Our party was recruited from time to time by other citizens, who came +rubbing their eyes as if they had just got out of bed; and one old man remarked +to me that it was the custom there to lie abed very late on Sunday, it being a +day of rest. I remarked that, as I thought, they might as well let the men +paint, for all us. It was not noisy work, and would not disturb our devotions. +But a young man in the company, taking his pipe out of his mouth, said that it +was a plain contradiction of the law of God, which he quoted, and if they did +not have some such regulation, vessels would run in there to tar, and rig, and +paint, and they would have no Sabbath at all. This was a good argument enough, +if he had not put it in the name of religion. The next summer, as I sat on a +hill there one sultry Sunday afternoon the meeting-house windows being open, my +meditations were interrupted by the noise of a preacher who shouted like a +boatswain, profaning the quiet atmosphere, and who, I fancied, must have taken +off his coat. Few things could have been more disgusting or disheartening. I +wished the tithing-man would stop him. +</p> + +<div class="fig" style="width: 279px;"> +<a name="illus32"></a> +<img src="images/dayofrest.jpg" width="279" height="450" alt="The day of rest" title="" /> +<p class="caption">The day of rest</p> +</div> + +<p> +The Pilgrims say: “There was the greatest store of fowl that ever we +saw.” +</p> + +<p> +We saw no fowl there, except gulls of various kinds; but the greatest store of +them that ever we saw was on a flat but slightly covered with water on the east +side of the harbor, and we observed a man who had landed there from a boat +creeping along the shore in order to get a shot at them, but they all rose and +flew away in a great scattering flock, too soon for him, having apparently got +their dinners, though he did not get his. +</p> + +<p> +It is remarkable that the Pilgrims (or their reporter) describe this part of +the Cape, not only as well wooded, but as having a deep and excellent soil, and +hardly mention the word <i>sand</i>. Now what strikes the voyager is the +barrenness and desolation of the land. <i>They</i> found “the ground or +earth sand-hills, much like the downs in Holland, but much better the crust of +the earth, a spit’s depth, excellent black earth.” <i>We</i> found +that the earth had lost its crust,—if, in-deed, it ever had +any,—and that there was no soil to speak of. We did not see enough black +earth in Provincetown to fill a flower-pot, unless in the swamps. They found it +“all wooded with oaks, pines, sassafras, juniper, birch, holly, vines, +some ash, walnut; the wood for the most part open and without underwood, fit +either to go or ride in.” We saw scarcely anything high enough to be +called a tree, except a little low wood at the east end of the town, and the +few ornamental trees in its yards,—only a few small specimens of some of +the above kinds on the sand-hills in the rear; but it was all thick shrubbery, +without any large wood above it, very unfit either to go or ride in. The +greater part of the land was a perfect desert of yellow sand, rippled like +waves by the wind, in which only a little Beach-grass grew here and there. They +say that, just after passing the head of East Harbor Creek, the boughs and +bushes “tore” their “very armor in pieces” (the same +thing happened to such armor as we wore, when out of curiosity we took to the +bushes); or they came to deep valleys, “full of brush, wood-gaile, and +long grass,” and “found springs of fresh water.” +</p> + +<p> +For the most part we saw neither bough nor bush, not so much as a shrub to tear +our clothes against if we would, and a sheep would lose none of its fleece, +even if it found herbage enough to make fleece grow there. We saw rather beach +and poverty-grass, and merely sorrel enough to color the surface. I suppose, +then, by Woodgaile they mean the Bayberry. +</p> + +<p> +All accounts agree in affirming that this part of the Cape was +<i>comparatively</i> well wooded a century ago. But notwithstanding the great +changes which have taken place in these respects, I cannot but think that we +must make some allowance for the greenness of the Pilgrims in these matters, +which caused them to see green. We do not believe that the trees were large or +the soil was deep here. Their account may be true particularly, but it is +generally false. They saw literally, as well as figuratively, but one side of +the Cape. They naturally exaggerated the fairness and attractiveness of the +land, for they were glad to get to any land at all after that anxious voyage. +Everything appeared to them of the color of the rose, and had the scent of +juniper and sassafras. Very different is the general and off-hand account given +by Captain John Smith, who was on this coast six years earlier, and speaks like +an old traveller, voyager, and soldier, who had seen too much of the world to +exaggerate, or even to dwell long, on a part of it. In his “Description +of New England,” printed in 1616, after speaking of Accomack, since +called Plymouth, he says: “Cape Cod is the next presents itself, which is +only a headland of high hills of sand, overgrown with shrubby pines, +<i>hurts</i> [i.e. whorts, or whortleberries], and such trash, but an excellent +harbor for all weathers. This Cape is made by the main sea on the one side, and +a great bay on the other, in form of a sickle.” Champlain had already +written, “Which we named <i>Cap Blanc</i> (Cape White), because they were +sands and downs (<i>sables et dunes</i>) which appeared thus.” +</p> + +<p> +When the Pilgrims get to Plymouth their reporter says again, “The land +for the crust of the earth is a spit’s depth,”—that would +seem to be their recipe for an earth’s crust,—“excellent +black mould and fat in some places.” However, according to Bradford +himself, whom some consider the author of part of “Mourt’s +Relation,” they who came over in the <i>Fortune</i> the next year were +somewhat daunted when “they came into the harbor of Cape Cod, and there +saw nothing but a naked and barren place.” They soon found out their +mistake with respect to the goodness of Plymouth soil. Yet when at length, some +years later, when they were fully satisfied of the poorness of the place which +they had chosen, “the greater part,” says Bradford, +“consented to a removal to a place called Nausett,” they agreed to +remove all together to Nauset, now Eastham, which was jumping out of the +frying-pan into the fire; and some of the most respectable of the inhabitants +of Plymouth did actually remove thither accordingly. +</p> + +<p> +It must be confessed that the Pilgrims possessed but few of the qualities of +the modern pioneer. They were not the ancestors of the American backwoodsmen. +They did not go at once into the woods with their axes. They were a family and +church, and were more anxious to keep together, though it were on the sand, +than to explore and colonize a New World. When the above-mentioned company +removed to Eastham, the church at Plymouth was left, to use Bradford’s +expression, “like an ancient mother grown old, and forsaken of her +children.” Though they landed on Clark’s Island in Plymouth harbor, +the 9th of December (O. S.), and the 16th all hands came to Plymouth, and the +18th they rambled about the mainland, and the 19th decided to settle there, it +was the 8th of January before Francis Billington went with one of the +master’s mates to look at the magnificent pond or lake now called +“Billington Sea,” about two miles distant, which he had discovered +from the top of a tree, and mistook for a great sea. And the 7th of March +“Master Carver with five others went to the great ponds which seem to be +excellent fishing,” both which points are within the compass of an +ordinary afternoon’s ramble,—however wild the country. It is true +they were busy at first about their building, and were hindered in that by much +foul weather; but a party of emigrants to California or Oregon, with no less +work on their hands,—and more hostile Indians,—would do as much +exploring the first afternoon, and the Sieur de Champlain would have sought an +interview with the savages, and examined the country as far as the Connecticut, +and made a map of it, before Billington had climbed his tree. Or contrast them +only with the French searching for copper about the Bay of Fundy in 1603, +tracing up small streams with Indian guides. Nevertheless, the Pilgrims were +pioneers and the ancestors of pioneers, in a far grander enterprise. +</p> + +<p> +By this time we saw the little steamer <i>Naushon</i> entering the harbor, and +heard the sound of her whistle, and came down from the hills to meet her at the +wharf. So we took leave of Cape Cod and its inhabitants. We liked the manners +of the last, what little we saw of them, very much. They were particularly +downright and good-humored. The old people appeared remarkably well preserved, +as if by the saltness of the atmosphere, and after having once mistaken, we +could never be certain whether we were talking to a coeval of our grandparents, +or to one of our own age. They are said to be more purely the descendants of +the Pilgrims than the inhabitants of any other part of the State. We were told +that “sometimes, when the court comes together at Barnstable, they have +not a single criminal to try, and the jail is shut up.” It was “to +let” when we were there. Until quite recently there was no regular lawyer +below Orleans. Who then will complain of a few regular man-eating sharks along +the back-side? +</p> + +<p> +One of the ministers of Truro, when I asked what the fishermen did in the +winter, answered that they did nothing but go a-visiting, sit about and tell +stories,—though they worked hard in summer. Yet it is not a long vacation +they get. I am sorry that I have not been there in the winter to hear their +yarns. Almost every Cape man is Captain of some craft or other,—every man +at least who is at the head of his own affairs, though it is not every one that +is, for some heads have the force of <i>Alpha privative</i>, negativing all the +efforts which Nature would fain make through them. The greater number of men +are merely corporals. It is worth the while to talk with one whom his neighbors +address as Captain, though his craft may have long been sunk, and he may be +holding by his teeth to the shattered mast of a pipe alone, and only gets +half-seas-over in a figurative sense, now. He is pretty sure to vindicate his +right to the title at last,—can tell one or two good stories at least. +</p> + +<p> +For the most part we saw only the back-side of the towns, but our story is true +as far as it goes. We might have made more of the Bay side, but we were +inclined to open our eyes widest at the Atlantic. We did not care to see those +features of the Cape in which it is inferior or merely equal to the mainland, +but only those in which it is peculiar or superior. We cannot say how its towns +look in front to one who goes to meet them; we went to see the ocean behind +them. They were merely the raft on which we stood, and we took notice of the +barnacles which adhered to it, and some carvings upon it. +</p> + +<p> +Before we left the wharf we made the acquaintance of a passenger whom we had +seen at the hotel. When we asked him which way he came to Provincetown, he +answered that he was cast ashore at Wood End, Saturday night, in the same storm +in which the <i>St. John</i> was wrecked. He had been at work as a carpenter in +Maine, and took passage for Boston in a schooner laden with lumber. When the +storm came up, they endeavored to get into Provincetown harbor. “It was +dark and misty,” said he, “and as we were steering for Long Point +Light we suddenly saw the land near us,—for our compass was out of +order,—varied several degrees [a mariner always casts the blame on his +compass],—but there being a mist on shore, we thought it was farther off +than it was, and so held on, and we immediately struck on the bar. Says the +Captain, ‘We are all lost.’ Says I to the Captain, ‘Now +don’t let her strike again this way; head her right on.’ The +Captain thought a moment, and then headed her on. The sea washed completely +over us, and wellnigh took the breath out of my body. I held on to the running +rigging, but I have learned to hold on to the standing rigging the next +time.” “Well, were there any drowned?” I asked. “No; we +all got safe to a house at Wood End, at midnight, wet to our skins, and half +frozen to death.” He had apparently spent the time since playing checkers +at the hotel, and was congratulating himself on having beaten a tall +fellow-boarder at that game. “The vessel is to be sold at auction +to-day,” he added. (We had heard the sound of the crier’s bell +which advertised it.) “The Captain is rather down about it, but I tell +him to cheer up and he will soon get another vessel.” +</p> + +<p> +At that moment the Captain called to him from the wharf. He looked like a man +just from the country, with a cap made of a woodchuck’s skin, and now +that I had heard a part of his history, he appeared singularly +destitute,—a Captain without any vessel, only a greatcoat! and that +perhaps a borrowed one! Not even a dog followed him; only his title stuck to +him. I also saw one of the crew. They all had caps of the same pattern, and +wore a subdued look, in addition to their naturally aquiline features, as if a +breaker—a “comber”—had washed over them. As we passed +Wood End, we noticed the pile of lumber on the shore which had made the cargo +of their vessel. +</p> + +<p> +About Long Point in the summer you commonly see them catching lobsters for the +New York market, from small boats just off the shore, or rather, the lobsters +catch themselves, for they cling to the netting on which the bait is placed of +their own accord, and thus are drawn up. They sell them fresh for two cents +apiece. Man needs to know but little more than a lobster in order to catch him +in his traps. The mackerel fleet had been getting to sea, one after another, +ever since midnight, and as we were leaving the Cape we passed near to many of +them under sail, and got a nearer view than we had had;—half a dozen +red-shirted men and boys, leaning over the rail to look at us, the skipper +shouting back the number of barrels he had caught, in answer to our inquiry. +All sailors pause to watch a steamer, and shout in welcome or derision. In one +a large Newfoundland dog put his paws on the rail and stood up as high as any +of them, and looked as wise. But the skipper, who did not wish to be seen no +better employed than a dog, rapped him on the nose and sent him below. Such is +human justice! I thought I could hear him making an effective appeal down there +from human to divine justice. He must have had much the cleanest breast of the +two. +</p> + +<div class="fig" style="width: 305px;"> +<a name="illus33"></a> +<img src="images/ptownfishing.jpg" width="305" height="450" alt="A Provincetown fishing-vessel" title="" /> +<p class="caption">A Provincetown fishing-vessel</p> +</div> + +<p> +Still, many a mile behind us across the Bay, we saw the white sails of the +mackerel fishers hovering round Cape Cod, and when they were all hull-down, and +the low extremity of the Cape was also down, their white sails still appeared +on both sides of it, around where it had sunk, like a city on the ocean, +proclaiming the rare qualities of Cape Cod Harbor. But before the extremity of +the Cape had completely sunk, it appeared like a filmy sliver of land lying +flat on the ocean, and later still a mere reflection of a sand-bar on the haze +above. Its name suggests a homely truth, but it would be more poetic if it +described the impression which it makes on the beholder. Some capes have +peculiarly suggestive names. There is Cape Wrath, the northwest point of +Scotland, for instance; what a good name for a cape lying far away dark over +the water under a lowering sky! +</p> + +<p> +Mild as it was on shore this morning, the wind was cold and piercing on the +water. Though it be the hottest day in July on land, and the voyage is to last +but four hours, take your thickest clothes with you, for you are about to float +over melted icebergs. When I left Boston in the steamboat on the 25th of June +the next year, it was a quite warm day on shore. The passengers were dressed in +their thinnest clothes, and at first sat under their umbrellas, but when we +were fairly out on the Bay, such as had only their coats were suffering with +the cold, and sought the shelter of the pilot’s house and the warmth of +the chimney. But when we approached the harbor of Provincetown, I was surprised +to perceive what an influence that low and narrow strip of sand, only a mile or +two in width, had over the temperature of the air for many miles around. We +penetrated into a sultry atmosphere where our thin coats were once more in +fashion, and found the inhabitants sweltering. +</p> + +<p> +Leaving far on one side Manomet Point in Plymouth and the Scituate shore, after +being out of sight of land for an hour or two, for it was rather hazy, we +neared the Cohasset Rocks again at Minot’s Ledge, and saw the great +Tupelo-tree on the edge of Scituate, which lifts its dome, like an +umbelliferous plant, high over the surrounding forest, and is conspicuous for +many miles over land and water. Here was the new iron light-house, then +unfinished, in the shape of an egg-shell painted red, and placed high on iron +pillars, like the ovum of a sea monster floating on the waves,—destined +to be phosphorescent. As we passed it at half-tide we saw the spray tossed up +nearly to the shell. A man was to live in that egg-shell day and night, a mile +from the shore. When I passed it the next summer it was finished and two men +lived in it, and a light-house keeper said that they told him that in a recent +gale it had rocked so as to shake the plates off the table. Think of making +your bed thus in the crest of a breaker! To have the waves, like a pack of +hungry wolves, eying you always, night and day, and from time to time making a +spring at you, almost sure to have you at last. And not one of all those +voyagers can come to your relief,—but when your light goes out, it will +be a sign that the light of your life has gone out also. What a place to +compose a work on breakers! This light-house was the cynosure of all eyes. +Every passenger watched it for half an hour at least; yet a colored cook +belonging to the boat, whom I had seen come out of his quarters several times +to empty his dishes over the side with a flourish, chancing to come out just as +we were abreast of this light, and not more than forty rods from it, and were +all gazing at it, as he drew back his arm, caught sight of it, and with +surprise exclaimed, “What’s that?” He had been employed on +this boat for a year, and passed this light every weekday, but as he had never +chanced to empty his dishes just at that point, had never seen it before. To +look at lights was the pilot’s business; he minded the kitchen fire. It +suggested how little some who voyaged round the world could manage to see. You +would almost as easily believe that there are men who never yet chanced to come +out at the right time to see the sun. What avails it though a light be placed +on the top of a hill, if you spend all your life directly under the hill? It +might as well be under a bushel. This light-house, as is well known, was swept +away in a storm in April, 1851, and the two men in it, and the next morning not +a vestige of it was to be seen from the shore. +</p> + +<p> +A Hull man told me that he helped set up a white-oak pole on Minot’s +Ledge some years before. It was fifteen inches in diameter, forty-one feet +high, sunk four feet in the rock, and was secured by four guys,—but it +stood only one year. Stone piled up cob-fashion near the same place stood eight +years. +</p> + +<p> +When I crossed the Bay in the <i>Melrose</i> in July, we hugged the Scituate +shore as long as possible, in order to take advantage of the wind. Far out on +the Bay (off this shore) we scared up a brood of young ducks, probably black +ones, bred hereabouts, which the packet had frequently disturbed in her trips. +A townsman, who was making the voyage for the first time, walked slowly round +into the rear of the helmsman, when we were in the middle of the Bay, and +looking out over the sea, before he sat down there, remarked with as much +originality as was possible for one who used a borrowed expression, “This +is a great country.” He had been a timber merchant, and I afterwards saw +him taking the diameter of the mainmast with his stick, and estimating its +height. I returned from the same excursion in the <i>Olata</i>, a very handsome +and swift-sailing yacht, which left Provincetown at the same time with two +other packets, the <i>Melrose</i> and <i>Frolic</i>. At first there was +scarcely a breath of air stirring, and we loitered about Long Point for an hour +in company,—with our heads over the rail watching the great sand-circles +and the fishes at the bottom in calm water fifteen feet deep. But after +clearing the Cape we rigged a flying-jib, and, as the Captain had prophesied, +soon showed our consorts our heels. There was a steamer six or eight miles +northward, near the Cape, towing a large ship toward Boston. Its smoke +stretched perfectly horizontal several miles over the sea, and by a sudden +change in its direction, warned us of a change in the wind before we felt it. +The steamer appeared very far from the ship, and some young men who had +frequently used the Captain’s glass, but did not suspect that the vessels +were connected, expressed surprise that they kept about the same distance apart +for so many hours. At which the Captain dryly remarked, that probably they +would never get any nearer together. As long as the wind held we kept pace with +the steamer, but at length it died away almost entirely, and the flying-jib did +all the work. When we passed the light-boat at Minot’s Ledge, the +<i>Melrose</i> and <i>Frolic</i> were just visible ten miles astern. +</p> + +<p> +Consider the islands bearing the names of all the saints, bristling with forts +like chestnuts-burs, or <i>echinidæ</i>, yet the police will not let a couple +of Irishmen have a private sparring-match on one of them, as it is a government +monopoly; all the great seaports are in a boxing attitude, and you must sail +prudently between two tiers of stony knuckles before you come to feel the +warmth of their breasts. +</p> + +<p> +The Bermudas are said to have been discovered by a Spanish ship of that name +which was wrecked on them, “which till then,” says Sir John Smith, +“for six thousand years had been nameless.” The English did not +stumble upon them in their first voyages to Virginia; and the first Englishman +who was ever there was wrecked on them in 1593. Smith says, “No place +known hath better walls nor a broader ditch.” Yet at the very first +planting of them with some sixty persons, in 1612, the first Governor, the same +year, “built and laid the foundation of eight or nine forts.” To be +ready, one would say, to entertain the first ship’s company that should +be next shipwrecked on to them. It would have been more sensible to have built +as many “Charity-houses.” These are the vexed Bermoothees. +</p> + +<p> +Our great sails caught all the air there was, and our low and narrow hull +caused the least possible friction. Coming up the harbor against the stream we +swept by everything. Some young men returning from a fishing excursion came to +the side of their smack, while we were thus steadily drawing by them, and, +bowing, observed, with the best possible grace, “We give it up.” +Yet sometimes we were nearly at a standstill. The sailors watched (two) objects +on the shore to ascertain whether we advanced or receded. In the harbor it was +like the evening of a holiday. The Eastern steamboat passed us with music and a +cheer, as if they were going to a ball, when they might be going +to—Davy’s locker. +</p> + +<p> +I heard a boy telling the story of Nix’s mate to some girls as we passed +that spot. That was the name of a sailor hung there, he said.—“If I +am guilty, this island will remain; but if I am innocent it will be washed +away,” and now it is all washed away! +</p> + +<p> +Next (?) came the fort on George’s Island. These are bungling +contrivances: not our <i>fortes</i> but our <i>foibles</i>. Wolfe sailed by the +strongest fort in North America in the dark, and took it. +</p> + +<p> +I admired the skill with which the vessel was at last brought to her place in +the dock, near the end of Long Wharf. It was candle-light, and my eyes could +not distinguish the wharves jutting out towards us, but it appeared like an +even line of shore densely crowded with shipping. You could not have guessed +within a quarter of a mile of Long Wharf. Nevertheless, we were to be blown to +a crevice amid them,—steering right into the maze. Down goes the +mainsail, and only the jib draws us along. Now we are within four rods of the +shipping, having already dodged several outsiders; but it is still only a maze +of spars, and rigging, and hulls,—not a crack can be seen. Down goes the +jib, but still we advance. The Captain stands aft with one hand on the tiller, +and the other holding his night-glass,—his son stands on the bowsprit +straining his eyes,—the passengers feel their hearts halfway to their +mouths, expecting a crash. “Do you see any room there?” asks the +Captain, quietly. He must make up his mind in five seconds, else he will carry +away that vessel’s bowsprit, or lose his own. “Yes, sir, here is a +place for us”; and in three minutes more we are fast to the wharf in a +little gap between two bigger vessels. +</p> + +<p> +And now we were in Boston. Whoever has been down to the end of Long Wharf, and +walked through Quincy Market, has seen Boston. +</p> + +<p> +Boston, New York, Philadelphia, Charleston, New Orleans, and the rest, are the +names of wharves projecting into the sea (surrounded by the shops and dwellings +of the merchants), good places to take in and to discharge a cargo (to land the +products of other climes and load the exports of our own). I see a great many +barrels and fig-drums,—piles of wood for umbrella-sticks,—blocks of +granite and ice,—great heaps of goods, and the means of packing and +conveying them,—much wrapping-paper and twine,—many crates and +hogsheads and trucks,—and that is Boston. The more barrels, the more +Boston. The museums and scientific societies and libraries are accidental. They +gather around the sands to save carting. The wharf-rats and customhouse +officers, and broken-down poets, seeking a fortune amid the barrels. Their +better or worse lyceums, and preachings, and doctorings, these, too, are +accidental, and the malls of commons are always small potatoes. When I go to +Boston, I naturally go straight through the city (taking the Market in my way), +down to the end of Long Wharf, and look off, for I have no cousins in the back +alleys,—and there I see a great many countrymen in their shirt-sleeves +from Maine, and Pennsylvania, and all along shore and in shore, and some +foreigners beside, loading and unloading and steering their teams about, as at +a country fair. +</p> + +<p> +When we reached Boston that October, I had a gill of Provincetown sand in my +shoes, and at Concord there was still enough left to sand my pages for many a +day; and I seemed to hear the sea roar, as if I lived in a shell, for a week +afterward. +</p> + +<p> +The places which I have described may seem strange and remote to my +townsmen,—indeed, from Boston to Provincetown is twice as far as from +England to France; yet step into the cars, and in six hours you may stand on +those four planks, and see the Cape which Gosnold is said to have discovered, +and which I have so poorly described. If you had started when I first advised +you, you might have seen our tracks in the sand, still fresh, and reaching all +the way from the Nauset Lights to Race Point, some thirty miles,—for at +every step we made an impression on the Cape, though we were not aware of it, +and though our account may have made no impression on your minds. But what is +our account? In it there is no roar, no beach-birds, no tow-cloth. +</p> + +<p> +We often love to think now of the life of men on beaches,—at least in +midsummer, when the weather is serene; their sunny lives on the sand, amid the +beach-grass and the bayberries, their companion a cow, their wealth a jag of +driftwood or a few beach-plums, and their music the surf and the peep of the +beach-bird. +</p> + +<p> +We went to see the Ocean, and that is probably the best place of all our coast +to go to. If you go by water, you may experience what it is to leave and to +approach these shores; you may see the Stormy Petrel by the way, +θαλασσοδρόμα, +running over the sea, and if the weather is but a little thick, +may lose sight of the land in mid-passage. I do not know where there is another +beach in the Atlantic States, attached to the mainland, so long, and at the +same time so straight, and completely uninterrupted by creeks or coves or +fresh-water rivers or marshes; for though there may be clear places on the map, +they would probably be found by the foot traveller to be intersected by creeks +and marshes; certainly there is none where there is a double way, such as I +have described, a beach and a bank, which at the same time shows you the land +and the sea, and part of the time two seas. The Great South Beach of Long +Island, which I have since visited, is longer still without an inlet, but it is +literally a mere sand-bar, exposed, several miles from the Island, and not the +edge of a continent wasting before the assaults of the Ocean. Though wild and +desolate, as it wants the bold bank, it possesses but half the grandeur of Cape +Cod in my eyes, nor is the imagination contented with its southern aspect. The +only other beaches of great length on our Atlantic coast, which I have heard +sailors speak of, are those of Barnegat on the Jersey shore, and Currituck +between Virginia and North Carolina; but these, like the last, are low and +narrow sandbars, lying off the coast, and separated from the mainland by +lagoons. Besides, as you go farther south, the tides are feebler, and cease to +add variety and grandeur to the shore. On the Pacific side of our country also +no doubt there is good walking to be found; a recent writer and dweller there +tells us that “the coast from Cape Disappointment (or the Columbia River) +to Cape Flattery (at the Strait of Juan de Fuca) is nearly north and south, and +can be travelled almost its entire length on a beautiful sand-beach,” +with the exception of two bays, four or five rivers, and a few points jutting +into the sea. The common shell-fish found there seem to be often of +corresponding types, if not identical species, with those of Cape Cod. The +beach which I have described, however, is not hard enough for carriages, but +must be explored on foot. When one carriage has passed along, a following one +sinks deeper still in its rut. It has at present no name any more than fame. +That portion south of Nauset Harbor is commonly called Chatham Beach. The part +in Eastham is called Nauset Beach, and off Wellfleet and Truro the Back-side, +or sometimes, perhaps, Cape Cod Beach. I think that part which extends without +interruption from Nauset Harbor to Race Point should be called Cape Cod Beach, +and do so speak of it. +</p> + +<p> +One of the most attractive points for visitors is in the northeast part of +Wellfleet, where accommodations (I mean for men and women of tolerable health +and habits) could probably be had within half a mile of the sea-shore. It best +combines the country and the seaside. Though the Ocean is out of sight, its +faintest murmur is audible, and you have only to climb a hill to find yourself +on its brink. It is but a step from the glassy surface of the Herring Ponds to +the big Atlantic Pond where the waves never cease to break. Or perhaps the +Highland Light in Truro may compete with this locality, for there, there is a +more uninterrupted view of the Ocean and the Bay, and in the summer there is +always some air stirring on the edge of the bank there, so that the inhabitants +know not what hot weather is. As for the view, the keeper of the light, with +one or more of his family, walks out to the edge of the bank after every meal +to look off, just as if they had not lived there all their days. In short, it +will wear well. And what picture will you substitute for that, upon your walls? +But ladies cannot get down the bank there at present without the aid of a block +and tackle. +</p> + +<p> +Most persons visit the sea-side in warm weather, when fogs are frequent, and +the atmosphere is wont to be thick, and the charm of the sea is to some extent +lost. But I suspect that the fall is the best season, for then the atmosphere +is more transparent, and it is a greater pleasure to look out over the sea. The +clear and bracing air, and the storms of autumn and winter even, are necessary +in order that we may get the impression which the sea is calculated to make. In +October, when the weather is not intolerably cold, and the landscape wears its +autumnal tints, such as, methinks, only a Cape Cod landscape ever wears, +especially if you have a storm during your stay,—that I am convinced is +the best time to visit this shore. In autumn, even in August, the thoughtful +days begin, and we can walk anywhere with profit. Beside, an outward cold and +dreariness, which make it necessary to seek shelter at night, lend a spirit of +adventure to a walk. +</p> + +<p> +The time must come when this coast will be a place of resort for those +New-Englanders who really wish to visit the sea-side. At present it is wholly +unknown to the fashionable world, and probably it will never be agreeable to +them. If it is merely a ten-pin alley, or a circular railway, or an ocean of +mint-julep, that the visitor is in search of,—if he thinks more of the +wine than the brine, as I suspect some do at Newport,—I trust that for a +long time he will be disappointed here. But this shore will never be more +attractive than it is now. Such beaches as are fashionable are here made and +unmade in a day, I may almost say, by the sea shifting its sands. Lynn and +Nantasket! this bare and bended arm it is that makes the bay in which they lie +so snugly. What are springs and waterfalls? Here is the spring of springs, the +waterfall of waterfalls. A storm in the fall or winter is the time to visit it; +a light-house or a fisherman’s hut the true hotel. A man may stand there +and put all America behind him. +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +<a name="linknote-9" id="linknote-9"></a> <a href="#linknoteref-9">[1]</a> +It is remarkable that the first, if not the only, part of New England which +Cartier saw was Vermont (he also saw the mountains of New York), from Montreal +Mountain, in 1535, sixty-seven years before Gosnold saw Cape Cod. <i>If seeing +is discovering</i>,—and that is <i>all</i> that it is proved that Cabot +knew of the coast of the United States,—then Cartier (to omit Verrazani +and Gomez) was the discoverer of New England rather than Gosnold, who is +commonly so styled. +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +<a name="linknote-10" id="linknote-10"></a> <a href="#linknoteref-10">[2]</a> +“Savage Rock,” which some have supposed to be, from the name, +the <i>Salvages</i>, a ledge about two miles off Rockland, Cape Ann, was +probably the <i>Nubble</i>, a large, high rock near the shore, on the east side +of York Harbor, Maine. The first land made by Gosnold is presumed by +experienced navigators to be Cape Elizabeth, on the same coast. (See +Babson’s History of Gloucester, Massachusetts.) +</p> + +<p> +The University Press, Cambridge, U. S. A. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div style='display:block; margin-top:4em'>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK CAPE COD ***</div> +<div style='text-align:left'> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +Updated editions will replace the previous one—the old editions will +be renamed. +</div> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright +law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, +so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United +States without permission and without paying copyright +royalties. 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