Poor JoannaONE EVENING my ears caught a mysterious allusion which Mrs.Todd made to Shell-heap Island.It was a chilly night of cold northeasterly rain, and I made a fire for the first time in the Franklin stove in my room, and begged my two housemates to come in and keep me company.The weather had convinced Mrs.Todd that it was time to make a supply of cough-drops, and she had been bringing forth herbs from dark and dry hiding-places, until now the pungent dust and odor of them had resolved themselves into one mighty flavor of spearmint that came from a simmering caldron of syrup in the kitchen.She called it done, and well done, and had ostentatiously left it to cool, and taken her knitting-work because Mrs.Fosdick was busy with hers.They sat in the two rocking-chairs, the small woman and the large one, but now and then I could see that Mrs.Todd's thoughts remained with the cough-drops.The time of gathering herbs was nearly over, but the time of syrups and cordials had begun.
The heat of the open fire made us a little drowsy, but something in the way Mrs.Todd spoke of Shell-heap Island waked my interest.I waited to see if she would say any more, and then took a roundabout way back to the subject by saying what was first in my mind: that I wished the Green Island family were there to spend the evening with us,--Mrs.Todd's mother and her brother William.
Mrs.Todd smiled, and drummed on the arm of the rocking-chair.
"Might scare William to death," she warned me; and Mrs.Fosdick mentioned her intention of going out to Green Island to stay two or three days, if the wind didn't make too much sea.
"Where is Shell-heap Island?" I ventured to ask, seizing the opportunity.
"Bears nor-east somewheres about three miles from Green Island; right off-shore, I should call it about eight miles out,"said Mrs.Todd."You never was there, dear; 'tis off the thoroughfares, and a very bad place to land at best.""I should think 'twas," agreed Mrs.Fosdick, smoothing down her black silk apron."'Tis a place worth visitin' when you once get there.Some o' the old folks was kind o' fearful about it.
'Twas 'counted a great place in old Indian times; you can pick up their stone tools 'most any time if you hunt about.
There's a beautiful spring o' water, too.Yes, I remember when they used to tell queer stories about Shell-heap Island.Some said 'twas a great bangeing-place for the Indians, and an old chief resided there once that ruled the winds; and others said they'd always heard that once the Indians come down from up country an'
left a captive there without any bo't, an' 'twas too far to swim across to Black Island, so called, an' he lived there till he perished.""I've heard say he walked the island after that, and sharp-sighted folks could see him an' lose him like one o' them citizens Cap'n Littlepage was acquainted with up to the north pole,"announced Mrs.Todd grimly."Anyway, there was Indians--you can see their shell-heap that named the island; and I've heard myself that 'twas one o' their cannibal places, but I never could believe it.There never was no cannibals on the coast o' Maine.All the Indians o' these regions are tame-looking folks.""Sakes alive, yes!" exclaimed Mrs.Fosdick."Ought to see them painted savages I've seen when I was young out in the South Sea Islands! That was the time for folks to travel, 'way back in the old whalin' days!""Whalin' must have been dull for a lady, hardly ever makin' a lively port, and not takin' in any mixed cargoes," said Mrs.Todd.
"I never desired to go a whalin' v'y'ge myself.""I used to return feelin' very slack an' behind the times, 'tis true," explained Mrs.Fosdick, "but 'twas excitin', an' we always done extra well, and felt rich when we did get ashore.Iliked the variety.There, how times have changed; how few seafarin' families there are left! What a lot o' queer folks there used to be about here, anyway, when we was young, Almiry.
Everybody's just like everybody else, now; nobody to laugh about, and nobody to cry about."It seemed to me that there were peculiarities of character in the region of Dunnet Landing yet, but I did not like to interrupt.
"Yes," said Mrs.Todd after a moment of meditation, "there was certain a good many curiosities of human natur' in this neighborhood years ago.There was more energy then, and in some the energy took a singular turn.In these days the young folks is all copy-cats, 'fraid to death they won't be all just alike; as for the old folks, they pray for the advantage o' bein' a little different.""I ain't heard of a copy-cat this great many years," said Mrs.
Fosdick, laughing; "'twas a favorite term o' my grandfather's.No, I wa'n't thinking o' those things, but of them strange straying creatur's that used to rove the country.You don't see them now, or the ones that used to hive away in their own houses with some strange notion or other."I thought again of Captain Littlepage, but my companions were not reminded of his name; and there was brother William at Green Island, whom we all three knew.
"I was talking o' poor Joanna the other day.I hadn't thought of her for a great while," said Mrs.Fosdick abruptly."Mis'
Brayton an' I recalled her as we sat together sewing.She was one o' your peculiar persons, wa'n't she? Speaking of such persons,"she turned to explain to me, "there was a sort of a nun or hermit person lived out there for years all alone on Shell-heap Island.
Miss Joanna Todd, her name was,--a cousin o' Almiry's late husband."I expressed my interest, but as I glanced at Mrs.Todd I saw that she was confused by sudden affectionate feeling and unmistakable desire for reticence.
"I never want to hear Joanna laughed about," she said anxiously.
