Mrs. Halcom had three children and a baby. She was a plain, commonplace body, who had been living up to North Salem, but her folks were Newburyport people and she should be glad to get in sight and sound of them once again. Chilian had brought a book along, Ben Johnson's Plays, and now and then he met with such a charming line or two he must read it to her. There were some new poets coming to the fore as well, but he knew most of the older ones. Oh, he must get back his youth for her sake. Cousin Giles was ever so much older.
She was interested in the ship as well and talked to Captain Green. He had so many funny nautical terms, provincialisms, that she had to inquire what some of the words meant. For most of the early people of New England had not dropped into the careless modes of speech that were to come later on and be adopted as a sort of patois. They read their Bibles a good deal and the older divines, and if their speech was a little stilted it had a certain correctness. Then Chilian Leverett was rather fastidious in this respect.
The wind filled the sails and they skimmed along merrily. Now the sea was green and so clear you could see the fish disporting themselves. Then the sun tinted it with gold and threw up diamond, amethyst, and emeralds, taunting one with treasures.
There are new names along the coast, though a few of the old ones remain. They passed Gloucester, Thatcher's Island, rounded Rockport, where in the inside harbor they had to unload part of their cargo. Then on to Plum Island, where the rest were set ashore and the woman and her children. Some few things were taken on board, but they were to stop at Gloucester, going down for the return cargo.
They walked about a little and bought some ripe, luscious dewberries and fruit.
"How queer it would be to live on an island and have to take your boat when you went anywhere," and Cynthia laughed gayly.
"People do, farther up. There are a great many islands on the coast of Maine, and fishermen are living on them."
"And in Boston Harbor Cousin Giles took us out. It's funny that they don't float off. Do they go 'way down to the bottom of the sea?"
"I think they must. Sometimes one does disappear."
"Suppose you were living on it. And you saw the water coming up all around you and you couldn't get away——"