“It is a man who has got a natural ‘honk’ ” replied Howell, “and it is worth fifty dollars a year to him.”
“A what?” I inquired.
“A honk! a honk! a perfectly natural honk! he makes fifty dollars a year out of it,” Howell reiterated.
I could not comprehend what a “honk” was, but concluded that if it was worth fifty dollars a year among the Long Island fishermen and farmers who could hardly be expected to pay much for mere sight-seeing, it would be much more valuable to exhibit in the Museum. So I remarked that as I was authorized by Messrs. Greenwood and Butler to purchase curiosities for them, I would go with him and buy the honk from its possessor if I could get it at a reasonable price.
“Buy it!” exclaimed Howell; “I guess you can’t buy it! You don’t seem to understand me; the man has got a natural honk, I tell you; that is, he honks exactly like a wild goose; when flocks are flying over he goes out and honks and the geese, supposing that some goose has settled and is honking for the rest of the flock to come down and feed, all fly towards the ground and he ‘lets into ’em’ with his gun, thus killing a great many, and in this way his honk is worth fifty dollars a year to him, and perhaps more.”
I decided not to attempt to buy the “honk,” but my eagerness to do so and my entire ignorance of the character of the curiosity furnished food for laughter to Howell and his neighbors for a long time.
One morning we discovered that the waves had thrown upon the beach a young black whale some twelve feet long. It was dead, but the fish was hard and fresh and I bought it for a few dollars from the men who had taken possession of it. I sent it at once to the Museum, where it was exhibited in a huge refrigerator for a few days, creating considerable excitement, the general public considering it “a big thing on ice,” and the managers gave me a share of the profits, which amounted to a sufficient sum to pay the entire board bill of my family for the season.
This incident both amused and amazed my Long Island landlord. “Well, I declare,” said he, “that beats all; you are the luckiest man I ever heard of. Here you come and board for four months with your family, and when your time is nearly up, and you are getting ready to leave, out rolls a black whale on our beach, a thing never heard of before in this vicinity, and you take that whale and pay your whole bill with it! I wonder if that ain’t ‘providential’? Why, that beats the ‘natural honk’ all to pieces!” This was followed by such a laugh as only Charles Howell could give, and like one of his peculiar sneezes, it resounded, echoed, and re-echoed through the whole neighborhood.
Soon after my return to New York, something occurred which I foresaw, I thought, at the time, was likely indirectly to lead me out of the wilderness into a clear field again, and, indeed, it eventually did so. Strange to say, my new city which had been my ruin was to be my redemption, and dear East Bridgeport which plunged me into the slough was to bring me out again. “Dear” as the place had literally proved to me, it was to be yet dearer, in another and better sense, hereafter.
The now gigantic Wheeler & Wilson Sewing Machine Company was then doing a comparatively small, yet rapidly growing business at Watertown, Connecticut. The Terry & Barnum clock factory was standing idle, almost worthless, in East Bridgeport, and Wheeler & Wilson saw in the empty building, the situation, the ease of communication with New York, and other advantages, precisely what they wanted, provided they could procure the premises at a rate which would compensate them for the expense and trouble of removing their establishment from Watertown. It is enough to say here, that the clock factory was sold for a trifle and the Wheeler & Wilson Company moved into it and speedily enlarged it. I felt then that this was providential; the fact that the empty building could be cheaply purchased was the main motive for the removal of this Watertown enterprise to East Bridgeport, and was one of the first indications that my failure might prove a “blessing in disguise.” It was a fresh impulse towards the building up of the new city and the consequent increase of the value of the land belonging to my estate. Many persons did not see these things in the same light in which they were presented to me, but I had so long pondered upon the various means which were to make the new city prosperous, that I was quick to catch any indication which promised benefit to East Bridgeport.