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Passages From The American Notebooks, Volume 2.

N >> Nathaniel Hawthorne >> Passages From The American Notebooks, Volume 2.




The young Greenlander talked politics, or rather discussed the personal
character of Pierce. The New Hampshire trader said not a word, or hardly
one, all the way. A Portsmouth youth (whom I forgot to mention) sat in
the stern of the boat, looking very white. The skipper of the boat is a
Norwegian, a good-natured fellow, not particularly intelligent, and
speaking in a dialect somewhat like Irish. He had a man with him, a
silent and rather sulky fellow, who, at the captain's bidding, grimly
made himself useful.

The wind not being favorable, we had to make several tacks before
reaching the islands, where we arrived at about two o'clock. We landed
at Appledore, on which is Laighton's Hotel,--a large building with a
piazza or promenade before it, about an hundred and twenty feet in
length, or more,--yes, it must be more. It is an edifice with a centre
and two wings, the central part upwards of seventy feet. At one end of
the promenade is a covered veranda, thirty or forty feet square, so
situated that the breeze draws across it from the sea on one side of the
island to the sea on the other, and it is the breeziest and comfortablest
place in the world on a hot day. There are two swings beneath it, and
here one may sit or walk, and enjoy life, while all other mortals are
suffering.

As I entered the door of the hotel, there met me a short, corpulent,
round, and full-faced man, rather elderly, if not old. He was a little
lame. He addressed me in a hearty, hospitable tone, and, judging that it
must be my landlord, I delivered a letter of introduction from Pierce.
Of course it was fully efficient in obtaining the best accommodations
that were to be had. I found that we were expected, a man having brought
the news of our intention the day before. Here ensued great inquiries
after the General, and wherefore he had not come. I was looked at with
considerable curiosity on my own account, especially by the ladies, of
whom there were several, agreeable and pretty enough. There were four or
five gentlemen, most of whom had not much that was noteworthy.

After dinner, which was good and abundant, though somewhat rude in its
style, I was introduced by Mr. Laighton to Mr. Thaxter, his son-in-law,
and Mr. Weiss, a clergyman of New Bedford, who is staying here for his
health. They showed me some of the remarkable features of the island,
such as a deep chasm in the cliffs of the shore, towards the southwest;
also a monument of rude stones, on the highest point of the island, said
to have been erected by Captain John Smith before the settlement at
Plymouth. The tradition is just as good as truth. Also, some ancient
cellars, with thistles and other weeds growing in them, and old
fragmentary bricks scattered about. The date of these habitations is not
known; but they may well be the remains of the settlement that Cotton
Mather speaks about; or perhaps one of them was the house where Sir
William Pepperell was born, and where he went when he and somebody else
set up a stick, and travelled to seek their fortunes in the direction in
which it fell.

In the evening, the company at the hotel made up two whist parties, at
one of which I sat down,--my partner being an agreeable young lady from
Portsmouth. We played till I, at least, was quite weary. It had been
the beautifullest of weather all day, very hot on the mainland, but a
delicious climate under our veranda.


Saturday, September 4th.--Another beautiful day, rather cooler than the
preceding, but not too cool. I can bear this coolness better than that
of the interior. In the forenoon, I took passage for Star Island, in a
boat that crosses daily whenever there are passengers. My companions
were the two Yankees, who had quite recovered from yesterday's sickness,
and were in the best of spirits and the utmost activity of mind of which
they were capable. Never was there such a string of questions as they
directed to the boatman,--questions that seemed to have no gist, so far
as related to any use that could be made of the answers. They appear to
be very good young men, however, well-meaning, and with manners not
disagreeable, because their hearts are not amiss. Star Island is less
than a mile from Appledore. It is the most populous island of the
group,--has been, for three or four years, an incorporated township, and
sends a representative to the New Hampshire legislature. The number of
voters is variously represented as from eighteen to twenty-eight. The
inhabitants are all, I presume, fishermen. Their houses stand in pretty
close neighborhood to one another, scattered about without the slightest
regularity or pretence of a street, there being no wheel-carriages on the
island. Some of the houses are very comfortable two-story dwellings. I
saw two or three, I think, with flowers. There are also one or two trees
on the island. There is a strong odor of fishiness, and the little cove
is full of mackerel-boats, and other small craft for fishing, in some of
which little boys of no growth at all were paddling about. Nearly in the
centre of this insular metropolis is a two-story house, with a flag-staff
in the yard. This is the hotel.

On the highest point of Star Island stands the church,--a small, wooden
structure; and, sitting in its shadow, I found a red-baize-skirted
fisherman, who seemed quite willing to converse. He said that there was
a minister here, who was also the schoolmaster; but that he did not keep
school just now, because his wife was very much out of health. The
school-house stood but a little way from the meeting-house, and near it
was the minister's dwelling; and by and by I had a glimpse of the good
man himself, in his suit of black, which looked in very decent condition
at the distance from which I viewed it. His clerical air was quite
distinguishable, and it was rather curious to see it, when everybody else
wore red-baize shirts and fishing-boots, and looked of the scaly genus.
He did not approach me, and I saw him no nearer. I soon grew weary of
Gosport, and was glad to re-embark, although I intend to revisit the
island with Mr. Thaxter, and see more of its peculiarities and
inhabitants. I saw one old witch-looking woman creeping about with a
cane, and stooping down, seemingly to gather herbs. On mentioning her to
Mr. Thaxter, after my return, he said that it was probably "the bearded
woman." I did not observe her beard; but very likely she may have had
one.

The larger part of the company at the hotel returned to the mainland
to-day. There remained behind, however, a Mr. T------ from Newburyport,
--a man of natural refinement, and a taste for reading that seems to
point towards the writings of Emerson, Thoreau, and men of that class. I
have had a good deal of talk with him, and at first doubted whether he
might not be a clergyman; but Mr. Thaxter tells me that he has made his
own way in the world,--was once a sailor before the mast, and is now
engaged in mercantile pursuits. He looks like nothing of this kind,
being tall and slender, with very quiet manners, not beautiful, though
pleasing from the refinement that they indicate. He has rather a precise
and careful pronunciation, but yet a natural way of talking.

In the afternoon I walked round a portion of the island that I had not
previously visited, and in the evening went with Mr. Titcomb to Mr.
Thaxter's to drink apple-toddy. We found Mrs. Thaxter sitting in a neat
little parlor, very simply furnished, but in good taste. She is not now,
I believe, more than eighteen years old, very pretty, and with the
manners of a lady,--not prim and precise, but with enough of freedom and
ease. The books on the table were "Pre-Raphaelitism," a tract on
spiritual mediums, etc. There were several shelves of books on one side
of the room, and engravings on the walls. Mr. Weiss was there, and I do
not know but he is an inmate of Mr. Thaxter's. By and by came in Mr.
Thaxter's brother, with a young lady whose position I do not know,--
either a sister or the brother's wife. Anon, too, came in the
apple-toddy, a very rich and spicy compound; after which we had some
glees and negro melodies, in which Mr. Thaxter sang a noble bass, and
Mrs. Thaxter sang like a bird, and Mr. Weiss sang, I suppose, tenor, and
the brother took some other part, and all were very mirthful and jolly.
At about ten o'clock Mr. Titcomb and myself took leave, and emerging into
the open air, out of that room of song, and pretty youthfulness of woman,
and gay young men, there was the sky, and the three-quarters waning moon,
and the old sea moaning all round about the island.


Sunday, September 5th.--To-day I have done little or nothing except to
roam along the shore of the island, and to sit under the piazza, talking
with Mr. Laighton or some of his half-dozen guests; and about an hour
before dinner I came up to my room, and took a brief nap. Since dinner I
have been writing the foregoing journal. I observe that the Fanny
Ellsler, our passenger and mail boat, has arrived from Portsmouth, and
now lies in a little cove, moored to the rocky shore, with a flag flying
at her main-mast. We have been watching her for some hours, but she
stopped to fish, and then went to some other island, before putting in
here. I must go and see what news she has brought.

"What did you fire at?" asked one of the Yankees just now of a boy who
had been firing a gun. "Nothing," said the boy. "Did you hit it?"
rejoined the Yankee.

The farmer is of a much ruder and rougher mould than his brother,--
heavier in frame and mind, and far less cultivated. It was on this
account, probably, that he labored as a farmer, instead of setting up a
shop. When it is warm, as yesterday, he takes off his coat, and, not
minding whether or no his shirt-sleeves be soiled, goes in this guise to
meals or wherever else,---not resuming his coat as long as he is more
comfortable without it. His shoulders have a stoop, and altogether his
air is that of a farmer in repose. His brother is handsome, and might
have quite the aspect of a smart, comely young man, if well dressed.

This island is said to be haunted by a spectre called "Old Bab." He was
one of Captain Kidd's men, and was slain for the protection of the
treasure. Mr. Laighton said that, before he built his house, nothing
would have induced the inhabitant of another island to come to this after
nightfall. The ghost especially haunts the space between the hotel and
the cove in front. There has, in times past, been great search for the
treasure.

Mr. Thaxter tells me that the women on the island are very timid as to
venturing on the sea,--more so than the women of the mainland,--and that
they are easily frightened about their husbands. Very few accidents
happen to the boats or men,--none, I think, since Mr. Thaxter has been
here. They are not an enterprising set of people, never liking to make
long voyages. Sometimes one of them will ship on a voyage to the West
Indies, but generally only on coastwise trips, or fishing or mackerel
voyages. They have a very strong local attachment, and return to die.
They are now generally temperate, formerly very much the contrary.


September 5th.--A large part of the guests took their departure after an
early breakfast this morning, including Mr. Titcomb, Mr. Weiss, the two
Yankees, and Mr. Thaxter,--who, however, went as skipper or supercargo,
and will return with the boat. I have been fishing for cunners off the
rocks, but with intolerably poor success. There is nothing so
dispiriting as poor fishing, and I spend most of the time with my head on
my hands, looking at the sea breaking against the rocks, shagged around
the bases with sea-weed. It is a sunny forenoon, with a cool breeze from
the southwest. The mackerel craft are in the offing. Mr. Laighton says
that the Spy (the boat which went to the mainland this morning) is now on
her return with all her colors set; and he thinks that Pierce is on
board, he having sent Mr. Thaxter to invite him to come in this boat.

Pierce arrived before dinner in the Spy, accompanied by Judge Upham and
his brother and their wives, his own wife, Mr. Furness, and three young
ladies. After dinner some of the gentlemen crossed over to Gosport,
where we visited the old graveyard, in which were monuments to Rev. Mr.
Tucke (died 1773, after forty years' settlement) and to another and later
minister of the island. They were of red freestone, lying horizontally
on piles of the granite fragments, such as are scattered all about.
There were other graves, marked by the rudest shapes of stones at head
and foot. And so many stones protruded from the ground, that it was
wonderful how space and depth enough was found between them to cover the
dead. We went to the house of the town clerk of Gosport (a drunken
fisherman, Joe Caswell by name) and there found the town records,
commencing in 1732 in a beautiful style of penmanship. They are
imperfect, the township having been broken up, probably at the time of
the Revolution. Caswell, being very drunk, immediately put in a petition
to Pierce to build a sea-mole for the protection of the navigation of the
island when he should be President. He was dressed in the ordinary
fisherman's style,--red-baize shirt, trousers tucked into large boots,
which, as he had just come ashore, were wet with salt water.

He led us down to the shore of the island, towards the east, and showed
us Betty Moody's Hole. This Betty Moody was a woman of the island in old
times. The Indians came off on a depredating excursion, and she fled
from them with a child, and hid herself in this hole, which is formed by
several great rocks being lodged so as to cover one of the fissures which
are common along these shores. I crept into the hole, which is somewhat
difficult of access, long, low, and narrow, and might well enough be a
hiding-place. The child, or children, began to cry; and Betty, fearful
of discovery, murdered them to save herself. Joe Caswell did not tell
the latter part of the story, but Mr. Thaxter did.

Not far from the spot there is a point of rocks extending out farther
into the ocean than the rest of the island. Some four or five years ago
there was a young woman residing at Gosport in the capacity of
schoolteacher. She was of a romantic turn, and used to go and sit on
this point of rock to view the waves. One day, when the wind was high,
and the surf raging against the rocks, a great wave struck her, as she
sat on the edge, and seemed to deprive her of sense; another wave, or the
reflex of the same one, carried her off into the sea, and she was seen no
more. This happened, I think, in 1846.

Passing a rock near the centre of the island, which rose from the soil
about breast-high, and appeared to have been split asunder, with an
incalculably aged and moss-grown fissure, the surfaces of which, however,
precisely suited each other; Mr. Hatch mentioned that there was an idea
among the people, with regard to rocks thus split, that they were rent
asunder at the time of the Crucifixion. Judge Upham observed that this
superstition was common in all parts of the country.

Mr. Hatch said that he was professionally consulted, the other day, by a
man who had been digging for buried treasure at Dover Point; up the
Piscataqua River; and, while he and his companions were thus engaged, the
owner of the land came upon them, and compelled Hatch's client to give
him a note for a sum of money. The object was to inquire whether this
note was obligatory. Hatch says that there are a hundred people now
resident in Portsmouth, who, at one time or another, have dug for
treasure. The process is, in the first place, to find out the site of
the treasure by the divining-rod. A circle is then described with the
steel rod about the spot, and a man walks around within its verge,
reading the Bible to keep off the evil spirit while his companions dig.
If a word is spoken, the whole business is a failure. Once the person
who told him the story reached the lid of the chest, so that the spades
plainly scraped upon it, when one of the men spoke, and the chest
immediately moved sideways into the earth. Another time, when he was
reading the Bible within the circle, a creature like a white horse, but
immoderately large, came from a distance towards the circle, looked at
him, and then began to graze about the spot. He saw the motion of the
jaws, but heard no sound of champing. His companions saw the gigantic
horse precisely as he did, only to them it appeared bay instead of white.

The islanders stared with great curiosity at Pierce. One pretty young
woman appeared inclined to engross him entirely to herself.

There is a bowling-alley on the island, at which some of the young
fishermen were rolling.


September 7th.--. . . . I have made no exploration to-day, except a walk
with the guests in the morning, but have lounged about the piazza and
veranda. It has been a calm, warm, sunny day, the sea slumbering against
the shores, and now and then breaking into white foam.

The surface of the island is plentifully overgrown with whortleberry and
bayberry bushes. The sheep cut down the former, so that few berries are
produced; the latter gives a pleasant fragrance when pressed in the hand.
The island is one great ledge of rock, four hundred acres in extent, with
a little soil thrown scantily over it; but the bare rock everywhere
emerging, not only in points, but still more in flat surfaces. The only
trees, I think, are two that Mr. Laighton has been trying to raise in
front of the hotel, the taller of which looks scarcely so much as ten
feet high. It is now about sunset, and the Fanny, with the mail, is just
arrived at the moorings. So still is it, that the sounds on board (as of
throwing oars into a small boat) are distinctly heard, though a quarter
of a mile off. She has the Stars and Stripes flying at the main-mast.
There appear to be no passengers.

The only reptile on the island is a very vivid and beautiful green snake,
which is exceedingly abundant. Yesterday, while catching grasshoppers
for fish-bait, I nearly griped one in my hand; indeed, I rather think I
did gripe it. The snake was as much startled as myself, and, in its
fright, stood an instant on its tail, before it recovered presence of
mind to glide away. These snakes are quite harmless.


September 8th.--Last evening we could hear the roaring of the beaches at
Hampton and Rye, nine miles off. The surf likewise swelled against the
rocky shores of the island, though there was little or no wind, and,
except for the swell, the surface was smooth. The sheep bleated loudly;
and all these tokens, according to Mr. Laighton, foreboded a storm to
windward. This morning, nevertheless, there were no further signs of it;
it is sunny and calm, or only the slightest breeze from the westward; a
haze sleeping along the shore, betokening a warm day; the surface of the
sea streaked with smoothness, and gentle ruffles of wind. It has been
the hottest day that I have known here, and probably one of the hottest
of the season ashore; and the land is now imperceptible in the haze.

Smith's monument is about seven feet high, and probably ten or twelve in
diameter at its base. It is a cairn or mere heap of stones, thrown
together as they came to hand, though with some selection of large and
flat ones, towards the base, and with smaller ones thrown in. At the
foundation, there are large rocks, naturally imbedded in the earth. I
see no reason to disbelieve that a part of this monument may have been
erected by Captain Smith, although subsequent visitors may have added to
it. Laighton says it is known to have stood upwards of a hundred years.
It is a work of considerable labor, and would more likely have been
erected by one who supposed himself the first discoverer of the island
than by anybody afterwards for mere amusement. I observed in some
places, towards the base, that the lichens had grown from one stone to
another; and there is nothing in the appearance of the monument that
controverts the supposition of its antiquity. It is an irregular circle,
somewhat decreasing towards the top. Few of the stones, except at the
base, are bigger than a man could easily lift,--many of them are not more
than a foot across. It stands towards the southern part of the island;
and all the other islands are visible from it,--Smutty Nose, Star Island,
and White Island,--on which is the lighthouse,--much of Laighton's island
(the proper name of which is Hog, though latterly called Appledore), and
Duck Island, which looks like a mere reef of rocks, and about a mile
farther into the ocean, easterly of Hog Island.

Laighton's Hotel, together with the house in which his son-in-law
resides, which was likewise built by Laighton, and stands about fifty
yards from the hotel, occupies the middle of a shallow valley, which
passes through the island from east to west. Looking from the veranda,
you have the ocean opening towards the east, and the bay towards Rye
Beach and Portsmouth on the west. In the same storm that overthrew
Minot's Light, a year or two ago, a great wave passed entirely through
this valley; and Laighton describes it, when it came in from the sea, as
toppling over to the height of the cupola of his hotel. It roared and
whitened through, from sea to sea, twenty feet abreast, rolling along
huge rocks in its passage. It passed beneath his veranda, which stands
on posts, and probably filled the valley completely. Would I had been
here to see!

The day has been exceedingly hot. Since dinner, the Spy has arrived from
Portsmouth, with a party of half a dozen or more men and women and
children, apparently from the interior of New Hampshire. I am rather
sorry to receive these strangers into the quiet life that we are leading
here; for we had grown quite to feel ourselves at home, and the two young
ladies, Mr. Thaxter, his wife and sister, and myself, met at meal-times
like one family. The young ladies gathered shells, arranged them,
laughed gently, sang, and did other pretty things in a young-ladylike
way. These new-comers are people of uncouth voices and loud laughter,
and behave themselves as if they were trying to turn their expedition to
as much account as possible in the way of enjoyment.

John's boat, the regular passenger-boat, is now coming in, and probably
brings the mail.

In the afternoon, while some of the new-comers were fishing off the
rocks, west of the hotel, a shark came close in shore. Hearing their
outcries, I looked out of my chamber window, and saw the dorsal fin and
the fluke of his tail stuck up out of the water, as he moved to and fro.
He must have been eight or ten feet long. He had probably followed the
small fish into the bay, and got bewildered, and, at one time, he was
almost aground.

Oscar, Mr. Laighton's son, ran down with a gun, and fired at the shark,
which was then not more than ten yards from the shore. He aimed,
according to his father's directions, just below the junction of the
dorsal fin with the body; but the gun was loaded only with shot, and
seemed to produce no effect. Oscar had another shot at him afterwards;
the shark floundered a little in the water, but finally got off and
disappeared, probably without very serious damage. He came so near the
shore that he might have been touched with a boat-hook.


September 9th.--Mr. Thaxter rowed me this morning, in his dory, to White
Island, on which is the lighthouse. There was scarcely a breath of air,
and a perfectly calm sea; an intensely hot sunshine, with a little haze,
so that the horizon was indistinct. Here and there sail-boats sleeping
on the water, or moving almost imperceptibly over it. The lighthouse
island would be difficult of access in a rough sea, the shore being so
rocky. On landing, we found the keeper peeling his harvest of onions,
which he had gathered prematurely, because the insects were eating them.
His little patch of garden seemed to be a strange kind of soil, as like
marine mud as anything; but he had a fair crop of marrow squashes, though
injured, as he said, by the last storm; and there were cabbages and a few
turnips. I recollect no other garden vegetables. The grass grows pretty
luxuriantly, and looked very green where there was any soil; but he kept
no cow, nor even a pig nor a hen. His house stands close by the garden,
--a small stone building, with peaked roof, and whitewashed. The
lighthouse stands on a ledge of rock, with a galley between, and there is
a long covered way, triangular in shape, connecting his residence with
it. We ascended into the lantern, which is eighty-seven feet high. It
is a revolving light, with several great illuminators of copper silvered,
and colored lamp-glasses. Looking downward, we had the island displayed
as on a chart, with its little bays, its isthmus of shingly beach
connecting two parts of the island, and overflowed at high tide; its
sunken rocks about it, indicated by the swell, or slightly breaking surf.
The keeper of the lighthouse was formerly a writing-master. He has a
sneaking kind of look, and does not bear a very high character among his
neighbors. Since he kept the light, he has lost two wives,--the first a
young creature whom he used to leave alone upon this desolate rock, and
the gloom and terror of the situation were probably the cause of her
death. The second wife, experiencing the same kind of treatment, ran
away from him, and returned to her friends. He pretends to be religious,
but drinks. About a year ago he attempted to row out alone from
Portsmouth. There was a head wind and head tide, and he would have
inevitably drifted out to sea, if Mr. Thaxter had not saved him.

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