"We had a pretty fair journey all along first. But as we were nearing Torres Strait an awful storm took us, and we were driven ashore almost a wreck and lost two of our men. After a while we got patched up and set sail again, but I was afraid we would never reach harbor. Howsomever we did, in a pretty bad condition. Poor Flying Star seemed on its last legs and 'twasn't sea legs either. Then I went up to Hong Kong and cruised around, buying stuff and selling it elsewhere. The Flying Star was patched up again, but she wasn't thought safe for a long journey. But there was plenty of work near at hand. Of course, I knew all about your father, and that the word must have reached you, but I hated mortally to come back and face you. But after a while the hankerin' for old Salem grew upon me. And there was the Aurora wantin' a captain, for the man who brought her out died of a fever. So says I, 'I'm your man, and I've been over often enough to know the ropes, the islands, and p'ints of danger and safe sailing.' So here I be once more. But jiminy Peter! I should hardly 'a' knowed little old Salem. Why, she looks as if she was going to outsail all creation!"
"Oh, we're getting very grand. New streets, and splendid new houses, and stores, and churches. Why, Boston isn't very much finer."
"Don't b'lieve Boston harbor can show tonnage with her! And where's first mate?"
"I don't know, but he will be in soon. Oh, there's Rachel. Rachel, come here to an old friend."
The captain shook hands heartily. "Why, you don't seem to have changed a mite, only to grow younger and plump as a partridge."
It had all to be talked over again and in the midst of it supper was ready, and there was Miss Eunice's surprise. Cynthia could hardly eat, the long journey and the dangers seemed such a strange thing now. Had she really come from India, or was it all a dream?
Yes, old Salem was almost fading out of the minds of even middle-aged people. There were curious stories told about witches and ghosts, but the real witchcraft was dying out of mind and the old houses that had been associated with it were looked upon as curiosities. Public spirit was being roused. In 1804 the East India Marine Society left the Stearns house and moved to the new Pickman Building in Essex Street. People began to send in curiosities that had been stored away in garrets: models of early vessels, articles from Calcutta, from the islands about the Central and South Pacific, cloths, and cloaks, and shawls, and implements.
The captain was quite sure Winter Island had grown larger—perhaps it had, by docking out. And he declared the streets looked like London, with the gayly gowned women, the stores, the carriages, for a number of handsome late ones were to be seen. There were a few fine young men on the promenade and they were attired in the height of fashion, as the society men of New York and Philadelphia. They were still paying attention to business and devoting the evenings to pleasure. Descendants of the strict old Puritans met to play cards and have dances and gay times with the young ladies. In the afternoon a cup of tea would be offered to callers, or a piece of choice cake and a glass of wine—often home-made. There were few excesses.
Many were still wearing the old Continental attire, yet you saw an old Puritan gentleman, with his long coat, his high-crowned hat, black silk stockings, and low shoes with great steel buckles.
Anthony was very much interested in the captain, whose best friend had been Anthony Leverett. He was proud of the name, and Cynthia's story was like a romance to him. He was taken up quite cordially by Cousin Giles, and very cordially by Mrs. Stevens, who had a liking for young men when they were well-mannered. He had managed to enter Harvard, with some studies to make up. Chilian Leverett insisted he should do no teaching this year, and offered him enough to see him through, but he would only accept it as a loan.