O\u27Sullivan, Joan

English

Digital Commons @ Butler University

34 MANUSCRIPTSMANUSCRIPTS 35Captain Qardinet~&.rimshatJ CanCJ~Odr\ O'Sun-lvanHelp you, Ma'am? Ayeh, we got some real nice Macs. Gotsome good Delicious, too, Ma'am. Just the MacIntosh? Yes,Ma'am. Ayeh, I can tell you. You mean the big stone house downthere by the road, don't you, Ma'am? Eulivia Gardiner ·McGowanowns it, Ma'am, Lives there by herself now, since Cat'n Gardiner-that's her father-passed away about eight, maybe ten years agoat the age of ninety-six. You want to know about that house,Ma'am, I can sure tell you about it. Cup of tea? It's been slowin the store-always is after the summer people go away, you know.I'd be happy to have you, Ma'am. Mary Irons is my name-hus-band's family has had this store almost as long as the Gardinershave had that house. That wasn't the first Gardiner homestead,though, you know. No, old T0111Gardiner was the very first whiteman to settle in these parts-left the colony over at Saybrook shortlyafter it started in the 1640's, I've heard. Wanted to make it onhis own, so to speak. He came over here when there was nothinghere but trees, the bay, and the Indians. He made friends with thePequods, then built a cabin up there on the other side of that hillover the bay. Started building boats, and pretty soon other peoplecame and settled around. They made the Post Road through here,which was a stroke of luck, and after that the Gardiners were prettywell set. Tom's grandson, Samuel, took over the shipping businesswhen his grand father died and refitted the whole fleet for whalers.Anchored them OVO" at New London, when it was just starting as awhaling port, then he built that house in the Post Road with themoney he made. It's a grand house, too. Big orchard in the backyou can't see from the road; Mrs. McGowan still keeps the gardenup, too; does it all herself. Course, 1110stof the rooms inside areclosed now, since she lives alone and hardly ever gets company,She still keeps the Capt'ri's study open, though, and that's a beautifulr00111. I was in it only once, when I was a child. All around theMANUSCRIPTS 37Capen were still here. Does alrnost as well as he did too' guessthat's because she was alone so much when she was YOU:1g. I-lad totake the man's part, you know. Not that she's not a lady, though;don't get the wrong idea. All of us in the village look up to theCanliners-always have been the best family in the area-refinedand all, you know. That Baptist Church over there-that was builtmostly with Gardiner money about a hundred years ago. Euliviastill tithes the same as the Cardiners always did-the church will besorry when she's gone, though I daresay they'll get a sizeable chunkof the will. NO' one else to leave it to', God knows.Look like? \IVell, Eulivia's no beauty-never was. You re-spect her as soon as you see he)', though-she's got the Gardinerbuild. Kind of lanky and smooth-like there's a lot of strengththere you'd never suspect if you didn't know better. She's got astaunch air about her-like she can take whatever she has to. Per-haps you'll see her-comes by here every day at the same time."Regular as clockwork," Mr. Irons always says. More tea, Ma'am?Livy McGowan settled her big black cape around her gauntshoulders, picked up her father's cane from its corner by the fire-place, and pushed open her back door with a determined shove.Stepping out onto the flagstone po-rch, she peered up at the harel,bright October sky and sniffed the air appraisingly. Not muchtime left, she figured. Scallopping season would open next week-end, and with the scalloppers came the heavy frosts. It was justas well, for she was almost finished anyway. Just a few 1110redaysand she could settle down fo-r the winter. A trace of a self-satisfiedsmile flitted across her face and disappeared as she once more ar-ranged her cloak and set off down the walk to the road. She turnedright at the gate and headed for the village, if one could call it avillage. It was really nothing more than a few old houses and agreen-shuttered, white-columned church. Most of the congregationlived closer to New London, back the other wayan the Post Road,but the site was a pretty one for the church-set back from theroad, trees all around, the bay just barely showing around. thecorner of the hill. Reverend Conant was raking leaves under thebig oak tree that stood in front of the building as Enlivia approached.She saluted him smartly with her cane before she strode past, andhe waved his ann eagerly and called good morning to her. Shechuckled sO'ftly.Poor old man. His aclmiration fur the GardinersI,I! I38 MANUSCRIPTSwas absolutely boundless. Whenever he spoke to her of them, hiswatery blue eyes shone and his oily bald pate fairly glistened withsolicitude. He was always so glad to see her-and glad to get mytithe, too," she added grimly. But she chuckled again. Why, ifhe knew, if he even suspected-well, it didn't really matter what hewould do fur he never would know-none of them would-not,until it was too late, until she was dead and there were no. moreGardiners left to. wurry about their good name.Abruptly she turned to the left and crossed the road, enteringthe dense woods through a barely visible break in the trees. Thepath she took was the roadbed that her ancestors had made a centuryand a half ago when they lived on the hill. The road was over-grown with weeds and brambles 110W, but the wagon ruts were stilldiscernible in places where it was wider. Her father's cane thumpedthe old path softly as she began climbing the slope. It was acidabout Papa's cane, she reflected. From the time he made it untilthe time he died, he had seldom been without it. He had polishedand etched the tooth of a sperm whale to make the head, and he'dgotten the mahogany for the shaft from the West Indies. He'dmade the whole thing, hom the metal tip to the scrimshaw shipssailing around the knob, on the last voyage of the Desdemona. Afterthat, the cane had become such a part of him that she never wouldhave thought of using it while he was alive; now, though, it seemedto fit her as well as it had Papa. The ivory head felt smooth andwarm in her long, bony fingers, and it never got too heavy to carry.Sometimes, she thought that if it hadn't been for Papa's cane, shewouldn't have even tried to go on after they were all dead. Butshe had gone on, after all. Livy stopped her climb and turned tolook at the village below. All she could see above the heavy treeswere the second floor of her big grey house and the roof and steepleof the Baptist Church. For a moment she gazed intently at thesteeple, then gave a disparaging snort and turned back to climb thelast few steps to the crest of tile hill.Under the shade of a tall maple tree she stopped again, thistime looking down the opposite slope to the bay stretched out in thesunlight before her. A few small fishing boats freckled its cobalt-blue, diamond sparkling surface, and out past the point the LedgeLight stood like a stoical, impassive sentinel guarding the treasuresof the bay. The beaches along the shore below were deserted ex-cept for a few strutting seagulls picking at the refuse left by theMANUSCRIPTS 39slimmer people. Livy :McGowan, who professed to hate the sea,stood for a long time with squinting, far-away eyes, staring pastthe boats, past the lighthouse, out to the hard blue line of thehorizon. Finally she sighed, shook herself, and resolutely descendedto the ruins of a cabin which lay just on the other side of the hill.The roof of the Gardiners' first home had long ago fallen in,and large gaping holes had appeared in the floor boards inside.Livy barely noticed the cabin, however, and headed instead for atrap door that lay in the ground near the back steps. She heavedit up, and slid it of f by its rusty iron ring, and then slowly descendeda step ladder into the cabin's former fruit cellar. It was a small,earth-walled r00111 that Thomas Gardiner had dug for several pur-poses, hom the storage of his fishing nets to escape from Indianattack. The roo 11 1 into which Livy climbed now, however, wasmuch changed from the days of T0111Gardiner. Piled in one cornerwas a neat mound of fire wood, and in another a big wooden cratestood ready for waste. Against one long wall was a set of plankshelves nearly filled with rows of neatly labelled gallon jugs, and inthe very center of the damp earthen floor, glowing dully in the faintlight from the trap door, stood the conglomeration of copper tubingand kettles which made up the Gardiner still, a relatively recentinvention of Captain Elia Gardiner, Livy's father. Livy stood fora moment at the bottom of the ladder and breathed in the warm,fragrant odor of her favorite pumpkin gin.Carefully she scrutinized the whole room, automatically count-ing the jugs all the shelf and noting with satisfaction that Homerhad gotten enough wood to last until they closed up for the winter.Sbe bustled around the still, emptying old mash into the woodencrate, filling the tubs with the mash she'd brought in the hot waterbottles hooked under her cloak, adding a few well placed sticks onthe smoldering fire. Papa had taught her how to lay the fire sothey'd use the least wood and have to attend to it only twice a day.Papa had taught her everything about the operation-the recipes,the aging processes, the best woods to use. He'd arranged the wholething himself and then had brought Homer and her up and showedthem. Homer, the local egg man and life-long friend of the captain,had loyally pledged secrecy and had arranged for distribution oftheir products. What with nearly half the state dry now, there wasno problem selling it, for although there were plenty of home brewsavailable, theirs was the only brand around that didn't rot one's40 MANUSCRIPTSstomach. The recipes were ones Papa had collected in his travelsand the fruit they used was mostly grown in their own orchard.They, had the summer trade all wrapped up; some people even saidit was better than the legal stuff they got in Hartford. So everyyear she made enough fruit wine to pay her church tithe, and topay Homer, and to have a little left to tide her over through thewinter.PapLl had said that it was the only way. When he'd soldout the fleet he was already in debt, for the motorized ships haddealt a death-blow to the sail-powered whalers. He'd managed tokeep Royal in Yale by selling the Gardiner furniture, piece bybeloved piece, room by 1'00111 until finally Royal graduated. Ofcourse, Royal never knew, nor did anyone else except Homer, andHomer was the only one who would understand anyway.Livy looked around her. Her work in the cellar was almostfinished. After peering at the labels, she took a few of the jugsof f a shelf, poured their contents into the hot water bottles andhooked them back under her cloak. Then she carefully unscrewedthe knob of Captain Gat-diner's cane and taking a small jug froma special section of the top shelf, she filled the shaft of the canewith pumpkin gin. Casting one final look around the cellar, Livyclimbed up into the bright October day and dropped the trap doorback into place.The sun was warm on the front steps of the old cabin, andLivy, sitting on a half-rotted board and sipping gin from the in-verted knob of her cane, wished that winter wouldn't come at aILIt always made her sad to close down the still, for she felt as if/1 she were losing a part of Papa when she did. Cupping the smooth,round head of his cane in both her hands, she ran her thumbscaressingly over the blue schooners and barks sailing forever in acircle 011 the ivory sea. Raising her eyes to the' brilliant bay beforeher, she squinted again at the space beyond the Ledge Light. Shetook a sip of gin, a small ironic smile playing around her lips, andslowly shook her head at the sea.:;: * * *There she is now, Ma'am, coming back from her morning walk.See how straight and tall she moves? Does lean a bit on that canethough, doesn't she? Mr. Irons says the only thing the BaptistChurch is waiting on before it gets its new organ' is its share of thelast Gardiner will, and I wouldn't be a bit surprised if it wasn't toolong in coming, the poor old soul. .

Captain Gardiner\u27s Scrimshaw Cane

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Captain Gardiner\u27s Scrimshaw Cane

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