“Oh, Miss Walden! How good you are! How soft and nice! And they are of your own carding, spinning, and knitting? And you have done it for me, whom you never had seen, and of whom you never heard except through your brother. And is he well?” Miss Newville asked.
“Quite well. You will see him to-morrow at the launching.”
“Isn’t it delightful that they have come in the nick of time?” said Berinthia.
“How fortunate! And you are to have such a nice party. I will wear the hood and be the envy of everybody,” said Miss Newville, putting it on, praising its beauty, and calling in her mother to make Rachel’s acquaintance and admire the gift.
The launching of the ship was to be at flood-tide, eleven o’clock in the forenoon. Though in midwinter, the air was mild, as if a warm breath had been wafted landward from the Gulf Stream. There was a fever of excitement and preparation in the Brandon home. Dinah in the kitchen was taking pots of baked beans and loaves of brown bread smoking hot from the oven, filling baskets with crumpets and crullers. Mark Antony was taking them to the shipyard. Mrs. Brandon, Berinthia, Rachel, and Mary Shrimpton were preparing the cakes and pies. Tom and Robert on board the ship were arranging for the collation.
Never before had Rachel beheld anything so enchanting as the scene in the shipyard,—the ship with its tall and tapering masts, its spars and yard-arms; the multitudes of ropes like the threads of a spider’s web; flags, streamers, red, white, green, blue, yellow, with devices of lions, unicorns, dragons, eagles, fluttering from bowsprit to fore-royal mast, from taffrail to mizzen. Beneath the bowsprit was the bust of Berinthia, the heart and soul of the man who carved it in every feature, for to Abraham Duncan there was no face on earth so beautiful as that of the shipmaster’s daughter.
The guests were assembling on the deck: the commissioner of imposts, Theodore Newville, Mrs. Newville, and their daughter, Ruth; his majesty’s receiver-general, Nathaniel Coffin, and his two sons, Isaac and John; Reverend Doctor Samuel Cooper, minister of the church in Brattle Street; Doctor Warren, physician to the family of the shipmaster; Lieutenant-Colonel Dalrymple, commanding the king’s troops,—for Mr. Brandon, though deprecating the presence of the troops in Boston, determined to be courteous to the representatives of his majesty; Admiral Montague, who came in his gig rowed by six sailors from his flagship, Romney; William Molineux[33] and John Rowe, merchants; Richard Dana and Edmund Quincy, magistrates; John Adams, a young lawyer; honored citizens and their wives; Master Lovell; and Tom’s classmate, Roger Stanley, who had walked from Lexington in the early morning. Among the many ladies, most attractive was Ruth Newville, wearing a close-fitting hood of soft lamb’s wool, trimmed with bright ribbon, all her friends admiring it.
Berinthia introduced Rachel and Robert to Mrs. Adams. They found her a very charming lady; she had brought her little boy, John Quincy, to see the launching of the ship.
Picturesque the scene: gentlemen wearing white wigs, blue, crimson, and scarlet cloaks, carrying gold-headed canes, taking pinches of snuff from silver-mounted boxes; young gentlemen with handsome figures and manly faces; ladies with tippets and muffs; girls in hoods,—all congratulating Berinthia, admiring the beauty and tidiness of the ship, and the lovely figure of herself. All praised Abraham Duncan, who blushed like a schoolboy.
They could hear the clattering of mallets and axes beneath them, and knew the carpenters were knocking away the props. The ways had been slushed with grease. The tide was at the flood. Ruth Newville was to break the bottle of wine. She had shaken hands with Robert Walden, and given expression of her pleasure at meeting him once more. Her eyes had followed him; even when not looking towards him she had seen him. Once more she thanked Rachel for her gift. Her mates were asking her where she had found a hood so beautiful and becoming. They stood upon the quarter-deck, Berinthia the queen of the hour, Ruth, radiant and lovely, by her side. They heard the bell striking the hour of eleven. A great crowd had assembled to see the launching. Men, women, boys, and girls were in the yard, flocking the street, gazing from doors and windows of neighboring houses.