  In the eighties of the last century, on the sparsely settled old country road north of Yaphank, two mowers were arranging, one August evening, to go to the Beach next day, and cut the sedge upon a neighbor’s meadow. “We must make an ’arly start,” said Raner. “By sunrise we ought ’o be well through the Gore in the Hills. Arter wants that piece o’ sedge all laid to-morrer, ef we be men enough to do it.” “How be you goin’ ’cross?” asked Layn. “In the ol’ hay-boat. I got her ready at Squasux week ago yisterday. Josh Alibee is to meet us there, so there’ll be three on us, you see. A big day’s work, but we’ll The sun next morning was not more than an hour high, when these mowers had embarked in the hay-boat for the Beach. The light breeze of that muggy August morning, blowing a trifle on the fore-quarter, carried them down the river so slowly that in order to gain time they plied the oar. The scene which lay about them has changed but little in almost the hundred years which have passed since that morning. The river’s course to the Bay was just as zig-zag then as it is now. Eastward lay the same broad meadows, skirted by that dense barrier of foliage—the Noccomack woods. Westward there stood upon the river bank where the Squasux road came down, a long, low one-story house, and below this the meadows extended to the distant woodland. As the sunlight fell aslant upon these meadows, they presented all those lustrous gradations “There, put away yer oar, Josh; the breeze stiffens,” said Raner, as they neared the mouth of the river. “Thet ere’s warm work,” exclaimed Josh, as he finished the stroke and laid aside the oar. “I’ll tek a swaller, I believe.” “No, no,” replied Layn; “put that jug back. It’s too ’arly in the day to begin swiggin’ at that. You’ll hev need o’ ev’ry drop o’ your share on the Beach.” “A couple o’ swallers ’ill mek no diff’rence one way nur t’other. Not a sol’try horn hev I hed yet to-day, an’ I’ve pulled the hull way down the river, whilst you’ve sot thar, yer elbows on yer knees,” replied Josh, as he tipped the jug and drank. “Pass it along,” said Raner. “Our ends hev all got to be kep’ even to-day.” Raner and Layn each drank, though lightly, and passed the jug back to Josh, The hay-boat went slowly, and the time passed tediously to men who were ambitious to be at their day’s work. Of this Raner himself furnished the best evidence, as he stood by the tiller, treading from side to side, and knocking one foot against the other. The present generation has little notion of what the sailing of those days was, particularly in the flat-bottomed, square-ended hay-boats. With a free wind, the course could be pretty well kept, but with the wind abeam, leeway became almost equal to headway, and wide calculations and allowances had always to be made. Layn had this in mind when he said, “Give the Inlet a wide berth or I’m afeard the tide’ll ketch us an’ draw us through.” “She’ll clear it, an’ a plenty to spare,” replied Raner. “You better not be too sure ’bout that. I, for one, don’t want ’o fare ez them Swan Crick fellers did.” “What Swan Crick fellers?” enquired Raner. “Why, Mott an’ a nother young feller—I dun know what his name wuz. Hain’t you heer’d ’bout ’em?” “No.” “Well, I hed ’em on my mind when I said, ‘Give the Inlet plenty o’ room.’ You ain’t heer’d on it, then? Well, this ere young Mott and t’other feller started out the Crick to sail their hay-boat somewheres east o’ the Inlet. Ol’ man Mott hed built the boat, an’ hed put cleats on the edges under ’er sides, to keep ’er from slidin off to leward. She sailed smart, an’ hung on to the wind purty good, I b’lieve. The ol’ man, though, tol’ ’em to look out fur the Inlet, an’ give it a rattlin’ good distunce. But, by George, ’fore they knowed it, they wuz goin’ toward the Inlet. They tried might an’ main, puttin’ out poles an’ doin’ “The poor devils wuz wild. The wind, what thar wuz on it, wuz blowin’ from the nuthard. They lowered sail, but out to sea they kep’ on goin’. Finely, arter they got out sev’ral mile, the wind changed to the suthard. They histed sail, pinted ’er straight on, an’ beached ’er on the surf-shore off abreas’ o’ Muriches, an’ the ol’ man went down thar an’ wracked the very boat he’d jist built.” Josh, who had sat with his gun across his knees during Layn’s account of this mishap, now resumed the work of cleaning his gun, upon which he had put all his time since clearing the mouth of the river. Priming the musket, he raised it to his shoulder, took an imaginary aim, and remarked: “She’s in royal trim now fur any bunch o’ snipe thet shows up on the medder.” “Where did you come upon that buster of a fire-arm?” inquired Layn, in jest. “Thet ere fire-arm, le’ me tell you, hez been proved. She’s seen sarvice, but thet wuz afore I got ’er.” “Hain’t she seen sarvice sence you’ve had ’er, ur plaguey nigh it?” continued Layn. “Seen sa—ar—vice sence—I’ve—hed ’er?” “Yes, by George, yes.” “You’re talkin’ to me in riddles.” “Why, Joshua,” broke in Raner, “hain’t there been orchards girdled, a barn burnt, an’ thirty horses made way with by some on you Punksholers not a great while back?” “Exac’ly,” said Layn. “That ere hints the matter, Josh. Wuz that ere gun one on ’em that wuz drawn on Judge Smith, an’ would a’ done the mischief on ’im, hedn’t his wife happened to keep atween him an’ the winder whilst he wuz ondressin’ a-goin’ to bed?” “Thar wuzn’t but three on ’em at thet ere bus’ness, an’ is it your idee to hint thet I wuz one on em? Ef it be, thet’s hittin’ devlish nigh—devlish nigh; an’ I’m blasted ef I don’t tek thet up,” replied Alibee, spitting in his hands and stepping up to Layn. “Nay, Joshua, nay; couldn’t that flint-lock a been there without you, or at any rate, afore you owned it?” spoke Raner, to pacify Alibee. Layn discerned that he had gone too far in his attempt at accusation, and so in a bantering way, continued, “You said yer musket had seen sarvice. You wan’t in the Rev’lution’ry War, nur even in a skirmish. The wicked thing some o’ you Punksholers meant to do on Judge Smith is known to the hull Town, an’ you wuz a braggin’ ’bout the sarvice yer gun hed seen. What harm wuz thar, by George, in askin’ you, straight out an’ out, ef that wuz the sarvice she hed seen?” “A devlish lot o’ harm, when a man “Trim in the sail now, an’ quit your sq’abblin’,” spoke out Raner. “There, that’ll do. Now she p’ints up better, an’ ef she don’t slide off over much, we’ll make our landin’ spot without a tack. Ah! that’s a strong puff.” Raner looked to windward thoughtfully a few minutes, and then began to whistle. The breeze, the onward motion of the boat, and the movement of the waves stirred his feelings, and he whistled on for a full half-hour. As the craft approached the Beach, there came into view spots of meadow “Where merry mowers, hale and strong, Swept scythe on scythe their swaths along The low green prairies of the sea.” These scattered groups had been upon the meadows all night, ready to begin at sunrise the toil of the day. And toil it was too—toil that required an iron muscle The three mowers had made an early start and were in good season, but the sight of others at work roused their anticipations of the day’s labor, and Layn suggested, “Let’s give our scythes a thorer goin’ over. We’ll save time by it.” They did this, and then Josh said to Raner, “Shell I put an edge on yer scythe?” “No,” was the reply. “I’ll do that fur myself. You come aft an’ take the tiller.” Over the ocean, low down on the horizon, lay a bank of fog. The mowers noticed this, and Raner remarked, “It may “Thar’s no tellin’ nuthin’ ’bout what it’ll do, you’d better say,” replied Josh, with a laugh. All along they had feared the wind would fail them when well over under the Beach. But it continued to blow; and in as good season as the mowers had hoped, they reached the meadows. Josh stood forward, anchor in hand, and jumping ashore, walked the full length of the cable and planted the anchor deep in the soft meadow soil. The old sail was quickly furled, and the three mowers, with scythes and traps, set out for Arter’s lot. Raner led the way, carrying, besides his scythe, a rake and hammer and wedges to hang anew the scythes, if need were. Layn was almost abreast of him, managing with some difficulty his scythe, a pitchfork, and a runlet of water; while Josh followed a short distance behind with the jug. Watching (uncaptioned) “Le’ me see,” said Raner, approaching the place of their day’s work. “Accordin’ to the last division, the stake o’ every lot stands on the west side, an’ the numberin’s on the east side o’ the stake.” A little examination showed which Arter’s lot was, and then Raner said, “We’ll strike in here.” This was not the order to begin cutting, but for those immediate preparations which can be made nowhere else than on the exact “We’re all ready, then, be we?” asked Raner. “Well, I’ll lead. Josh, you come arter me; an’ Layn’ll be last;” and getting into position, the lusty mowers struck their swaths. Regularly the graceful strokes fell, succeeded by the hitching step forward. “Ah! my scythe’s doin’ purty work, I tell you,” remarked Raner. “How does your’n cut, Layn?” “Royally.” “An’ your’n, Alibee?” “Never better.” “We’re all well under way, then, an’ the grass’s in fair condition. Can we lay it by night, think you, Layn?” “I guess so; but by King George, we’ve got ’o keep movin’, le’ me tell yer.” “Alibee, can you stan’ it to keep ’er joggin’ all day long at this gait?” “Thet’s what I come fur, I b’lieve, to do a day’s work with the rest on yer.” There had been some sort of an understanding between Raner and Layn when driving to the landing, that Alibee, who was a loud boaster, should do such a day’s work as he had seldom done. It is easy, therefore, to see why Raner was so particular about assigning him the middle place. Raner and Layn were both excellent scythes-men, and with one to lead and the other to drive, Alibee must keep their pace all day. (uncaptioned) Alibee, be it said, was not an energetic man. Some of his acquaintances called him a “blower.” Had he been hired to go to the Beach and take two men with him to cut a plot of grass, there would have been mowing done as a matter of course; but the day, nevertheless, would have passed easily enough. The bouts would have been short ones, with a spell of whetting at each end. There would have been halts here and there, while he looked to see how the grass lay ahead, and whether it was down much or tangled. And when such pretexts failed, Alibee would have found it encouraging to count just how many swaths had been cut, and calculate how many more remained to be done. At midday, too, a long nooning would have been taken, with likely a stroll to kill a mess of snipe. Let, however, a few months pass, and beach-haying become the topic of talk at a tavern gathering, and with what noisy bragging would Alibee recount “There’s the first bout round,” remarked Raner, “an’ now whet up fur the next.” “An’ wet up, too,” broke in Josh. “Yes, yes,” seconded Layn; “a good horn all round.” All drank; but Josh was last at the jug, and improved his opportunity. Each man took up his scythe again, wiped the blade with a wisp of grass, and struck with drawing motion his rifle along the blade. Every blow sent out those ringing notes—the test of good steel. The whetting over, zithe—zithe—zithe—went the scythes once more, the graceful strokes beating again their triple measure. But before the mowers had finished their second bout, the outposts of the fog, which lay banked low over the ocean when they were crossing the Bay, came and settled about them. So intent, though, were the mowers upon the work in hand, that the fog’s insidious presence was not noted, till “Well, I sw’ar,” spoke Josh. “This ere’s sudden—I’ll be darned ef I knowed where I wuz for a second ur two.” “Nuther did I,” replied Layn. “At fust, I tried to git my bearin’s, an’ it bothered me, fur thar wuzn’t no bearin’s to be got. Then I come to my senses, an’ A fog, as everybody knows, plays all sorts of tricks with the judgment. A man may drive over a road a hundred times and think himself acquainted with every turn and hollow, with every clump of trees, with every bank, rock, or bunch of shrubbery by the roadside; but let a dense fog come down, and memory at once refuses to match the new impressions with the old. The hollows are deeper and the bends of the road more abrupt, the clump of trees has shifted its position or has entirely disappeared, and every rock and bunch of shrubbery becomes a strange object. If he begins to doubt, his judgment is completely upset, and he concludes he has taken the wrong road. A man may have sailed from shore to shore of a body of water so often as to feel almost confident of doing it with eyes shut; let, however, a fog settle and blot out every “What’s it goin’ to do, Raner?—hang here all day like this?” asked Layn. (uncaptioned) “It acts to me, with this light wind a blowin’, as ef there’d be lots o’ fog adriftin’ all day. But fog or no fog,” replied Raner, “we mus’ keep a steppin’.” At Raner’s suggestion the stroke was Round and round they mowed, bout after bout, swinging their blades with the same lively stroke. For three hours Alibee stood the driving well, and then all of a sudden he broke out with, “This ’ere ain’t squar’—it’s urgin’ the thing a little too much. My scythe’s losin’ her edge; the ol’ rule is to whet at ev’ry corner, an’ drink at ev’ry round.” “Well, ain’t we drunk at ev’ry round?” answered Layn; “an’ I took notice thet you swilled ez long ez any on us.” “Thet I’ll ’low,” said Josh; “but we ain’t whet at ev’ry corner. Thet’s my p’int. Th’ ain’t nuthin’ much made, ez I kin see, by drivin’ so like the devil. You’ll wear me threadbare afore sundown, keepin’ me here in the middle. It’s the hardest place to mow in, by a darn sight.” “Joshua,” said Raner, “I thought you Manor men wuz all such cracked mowyers. Here’s Layn an’ me, we’re only common mowyers, an’ you can’t keep your end up with us, hey?” “Yes, I kin,” replied Josh; “but what’s the use o’ killin’ yerself. We can’t cut this ere medder to-day nohow, an’ I don’t see the use o’ workin’ hard ez you kin swing, an’ goin’ home middle to-morrer to do nuthin’ all the arternoon. By gosh,” he continued, sighing, as if partly exhausted, “I’m darned ef I don’t b’lieve some sort o’ contrivance could be rigged up to do this ere mowin’.” “What sort o’ a contrivance, Josh?” quickly inquired Layn. “Why, thar could be three ur four scythes hitched on to a post to swing round, an’ cut twice ez fast ez we’re doin’ on it. An’ one o’ these ere days some ere feller’ll rig up jist sich a machine.” “Not in our day, Joshua,” laughed Raner. “No, no; not in our day,” repeated Layn, joining in the laugh. “Your laughin’ don’t ’mek no dif’runce. I tell ye, I b’lieve it’ll come yit.” “Why don’t you try it yerself, ef yer so confident?” asked Layn. “I’m bedarned ef I don’t b’lieve I could, ef I hed time, an’ tools, an’ all the traps thet’s wanted fur sich things. Them scythes, don’t ye see, could be rigged to go roun’ jist like thet;” and here Alibee cut a stroke to show what he meant. “Yes,” he went on, growing earnest over his vague idea, “you could rig jist about three strappin’ good scythes on to a post to swing roun’ jist ez easy ez thet;” and here again he cut a dashing stroke. “What a cussed foolish idee that is, Josh,” spoke up Raner, a little vexed at the absurd notion. “How the devil, I’d like to know, would you make the post go?” “Thet ere could be done somehow ur nuther. Thar’d be a way hit on, if a man Raner and Layn again both heartily laughed, and Josh said nothing more upon the subject. Whether, though, it was his remonstrance, or whether Raner thought they would thereby be able to cut more grass, he gave word at the next corner to stop and whet. This change put Josh in better spirits, for when the whetting was finished, he remarked, “Thar’s only jist one thing a lackin’, and thet’s the jug. Ef thet ere jug could only foller us roun’, we couldn’t ask no more.” “Ef it did,” said Layn, “you’d be all the time a guzzlin’.” “I ain’t no bigger guzzler than you be,” retorted Josh. The morning wore on, and it seemed to Alibee that noon would never come. Every stroke went against his will. At one time he was on the point of deserting, and leaving Raner and Layn there to drive each other; but seeing how dense the fog was, “Now fur a chance at what victuals we fetched along. You go to the hay-boat, Josh, arter our pails, while Layn an’ me “Gi’ me a swaller fust,” replied Alibee; and after satisfying his thirst, he started for the hay-boat. Ten minutes passed, and out of the fog came a voice, “Which way be yer? How fur be I frum the boat?” “This way o’ you, an’ to the nuthard,” replied Raner. “Don’t you hear the surf to suthard o’ you?” Groping about a little longer, he found the boat and soon came out of the fog with the dinner pails. The mowers, to state it as they would, lost no time in falling to. Their fare was plain—plainer, indeed, than was usual at home. But though plain, the labor near the sea had whet their appetites, and they ate with keener relish than at their own tables. Then, too, the jug came in and played its part rather more freely than it would have done at home. They talked of the morning’s work, and discussed the “We ain’t laid but little more’n a third on it,” remarked Layn. “It’s my opinion we’ll hev to stay here on the Beach all night, an’ cut the balance ’arly to-morrer mornin’. Then, ef thar’s any wind, we kin reach Squasux landin’ middle forenoon.” “Thet’s the idee exac’ly,” replied Josh. “Tek it easy this arternoon, quit work arly, an’ I’ll hev a chance to git a bunch o’ snipe. We kin git home at noon to-morrer at thet rate, jist ez easy ez you kin toss up yer hat.” “What ’o you say ’bout it, Raner?” asked Layn. “Well, I wanted to git off to-night, but ef we’re goin’ to do it, we’ve got to cut faster this arternoon then we hev this mornin’,” replied Raner. A half hour was all the time taken for dinner. Layn carried the pails back to the “Ef we’re all ready fur work ag’in,” said Raner, “we’ll cut in this d’rection this arternoon. Down here an’ up ag’in on the west side o’ the lot, ef we kin see where the west side o’ the lot is.” Alibee fell into his old place without a word of complaint. Raner began with the stroke he had maintained all day, but it was evident that Alibee intended to make his stroke in slower time, while Layn was not so anxious to drive him as he had been throughout the morning. An hour passed, and Raner, after pacing over what yet remained uncut, remarked, “We can’t poke along in this way, ef we’ve got any idee o’ layin’ this piece afore night. We come on here to cut, an’ fur my part, I want to git done and hev it over with.” “This ’ere’s good ’nough,” replied Josh. “Let it go et this.” The wind, they noticed, was blowing stronger, and the fog began to sweep past them in dense scuds, at times suddenly growing thin as if about to clear away. Occasionally a yellowish tinge overhead gave indications that the sun had almost broken through, but presently a thick scud would come and shut the mowers in again. Thus, with fantastic behavior, the fog came and went. Two or three times, when it came the thickest, and darkened rapidly about them, they broke their stroke and looked around. “Fust it’s dark an’ close, then it’s lighter, then it’ll come in agin thick, an’ then, the nex’ thing, the sun all but breaks through it. What a witchin’ sort o’ an arternoon it is,” said Layn. “I’d a darned sight ruther it ud gether itself up an’ shower. Then thar’d be some likelihood o’ the sun’s comin’ out an’ dryin’ on it up,” replied Josh. “This ere thick an’ thin, dark an’ light, I don’t like. Raner,” he continued, “you couldn’t a picked a wuss day.” “I never knowed sech a day afore in my life,” spoke Layn. “Miles o’ this fog has been runnin’ by us all day long, an’ this arternoon it’s a loomin’ itself up an’ meltin’ away ag’in in all kinds o’ shapes.” The long swaths they were now mowing lay in direction to and from the ocean, and the place where the bouts ended and the indispensable jug stood in readiness, chanced to be so situated with reference to the gap between the hills that it afforded a view directly out upon the sea. The nature of the fog made this view more or less indistinct, at times shutting it entirely out of sight. Here the wind would bank up the fog, twist it into fantastic shapes, and blow them all away, only to summon more of the pliant medium and heap it up again into more grotesque masses. The mowers, dull as their perception was, at last saw this, and it wrought upon their minds. The feeling kept coming up that the appearances which the fog assumed Raner and Layn were startled by this sudden freak of Alibee’s, but they fell into line and followed with quicker stroke than they had heretofore made. Alibee proved himself equal to the place he had assumed, and the next corner was quickly “Keep ’er up, Josh,” urged Layn; “we’re hard on ter you. I ain’t got a bit more notion then you hev o’ stayin’ on here all night.” They came round again to the dreaded corner. Alibee grated his teeth as he thought of it, and his breathing was hard enough to be heard by the others. Coming out first and looking seaward, the very thought he intended not to mention slipped from his control, and he spoke out, “Thar she is ag’in.” But recovering himself to some extent, he turned quickly about and continued, “Layn, you lead this time. Then it’ll fall ekal on all on us. Ev’ry man’s got a dif’runt stroke, an’ ef he leads once, mows in the middle once, an’ follers once, he gits a chance one time ev’ry three, to swing his nat’rul stroke.” Stepping to the jug he took it up and, shaking it, resumed, “I swar, we ain’t got They drained the jug to the last drop, and bent again to their work. The pace they were keeping was exhausting, but they never slackened. Another bout was finished within a dozen strokes, when Layn burst out, “Here we come ag’in to thet blasted gap. My blamed eyes won’t keep away from it whenever we git roun’ here.” “You’ve seen it, then, hev yer?” asked Josh. “Hang it, yes,” replied Layn; “an’ I’ve tried not to, fur three times now.” “So hev I, an’ I seem hell-bent to look thet way whenever I git roun’.” Raner said not a word. It was his turn to lead, and he started in without suffering the talk to go further. They were working to the utmost of their strength. Layn and Alibee cut wider swaths than at any previous time. They reached the end, and Raner complied; but the others noticed that instead of returning the instant he had accomplished the purpose, he stood a moment and looked out through the gap. When he returned, Layn could not refrain from asking, “Did you see it?” “Yes,” replied Raner, “an’ I swar I don’t like it.” They plunged into work again with greater determination. It was in this way they kept their courage up; for every time they stopped to whet, their feelings were in a turmoil. The very pace they were working put them in all the worse condition. But the plot was lessening rapidly, and so they drove themselves on. Strange to say, some time passed without a word further in allusion to what had been seen. But while there was for this short period a dogged spell upon them to say nothing “She’s fog color,” abruptly exclaimed Josh, startling both Layn and Raner, and causing them to look at the same instant. “She’s got ev’ry stitch spread, too.” “An’ still headin’ right squar’ on, I sw’ar,” said Layn. And pointing, he continued, “Raner, do you see? We ain’t got no sich breeze a blowin’ here ez she’s got thar.” “What the hell’s dif’runce, tell me, does that make with her? That wizard o’ a ship ’ud have fair wind an’ plenty on it, ef she wuz sailin’ dead to wind’ard.” “Now, she’s gone ag’in,” spoke Alibee, “an’ thet’s what she’s done afore.” The mowers began a new bout, and Raner remarked, “Such things, hell take ’em, have been seen afore, though a long time back. I heerd tell on ’em when I wuz a boy. It’s a spectre o’ some ship Kidd has sunk with all her crew on board, a ha’ntin’ this coast. Thar’s no tellin’ what the mischief’ll come out on it all to us, ne’ther. He wuz off the Inlet thar sev’ral times with the ‘Royal Eduth.’ I’ve hearn, time and ag’in, o’ how he come in the Inlet with his long-boat, an’ got game o’ the Injuns, an’ the devil may know how many lives he put an end to when off here.” The mowers came again to the bout leading up to the broad curve. Alibee, who a moment ago had said, “I’m all o’ a cold sweat,” looked out upon the ocean and exclaimed, “By the very devil himself, see how much nigher she’s in! Confound ef I want ’o stay here an’ cut much longer.” This exclamation produced but one result—a wider swath. They had plunged “By heavens,” gasped Alibee, “how much closer in is she a comin’? An’ look! look! thet’s a woman standin’ on the rail thar, for’ard, white ez the ship. Not another soul on board, ez I kin see.” The mowers stood gazing a second with scythes poised, and then finished their strokes. Just around the curve Alibee stole a glance behind him. With piercing tone he cried, “Good God! thar’s thet Hurriedly they gathered their traps and ran to the boat, casting looks behind every few steps. They had left the jug—the empty jug—but not a second could be lost. They threw their scythes into the boat, Alibee ran for the anchor, and came running back with it, dragging the cable after him. Raner and Layn in their excitement had already pushed off the boat, and Josh, splashing through the water, tumbled on board, anchor in hand. In an instant the mowers had disappeared in the fog. (uncaptioned) |
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