Harriet H. Robinson

“ Mr. R. Well, there is a month or two yet before I shall be obliged to ask you to give up your husband’s papers. Meanwhile, you can go on to Cairo, and come back; go along the Red and Yellow, and leave your cargo. You needn’t take on any more. I’ll see you again when you come down to New Orleans; and then, if your husband has not returned, we must close up our accounts. That is what the rest of the owners say, and I agree.
Mary. Oh, Mr. Romberg! is there nothing I can do to keep the boat? Can I not get a license? Did a woman never have a captain’s license? ”

“ Mary. (indignantly) . Sir! you’ve said enough! You may own my boat, and you may have the power to take her from me; but you cannot have the wife of Captain William Miller. I tell you, sir, that I would rather beg my way home from door to door, with my child in my arms,—yes, I would [Pg 38] starve,—before I would be the wife of any man but my own husband. Dead or alive, it makes no difference to me. He is still my husband!
Mr. R. (aside) . Those down-East women beat the world. The spunk they show—Yankee grit they call it—it’s amazing! But, Gad! it makes her look handsomer than ever. ”

“ There! my blank is all filled out, and my letter written; both signed plain Mary Miller, which means to me (sighing) that I must hereafter stand alone,—legally, at any rate, and take the responsibility of all my actions. No more hiding behind a husband’s or a father’s name. Plain Mary Miller! A good name, and I must show that I am worthy of it. (To Phus) There, be as quick as you can; and then come back here and take care of the baby while I go on deck. (She goes to the cradle.)
Phus. Yes, mis’! I’m skippin’. (Exit R.)
Curtain. ”

“ Mr. R. (reads on) . “‘All the accounts concur in describing the lady who makes this application as one of high character, business qualifications, and highest worth. But, in the application of what is with me a principle, the higher the character and worth, the greater my difficulty in asking that the license asked for to command a Mississippi steamboat be granted. Because it would be assigning a position to woman which God, in his providence, never intended her to fill.
K. Rayner, Solicitor of the Treasury.’”
(Holds out paper to her.) ”

“ Why, yes; you see, Leafy, she likes it. But as soon as the weddin’ is over (she wants me to be married in ’em here on the boat) , I mean to put the whole rig away in my sea-chist, with them blasted books that deluded me into goin’ to sea; an’ that will be the last of my bein’ a sailor. I’ve had enough of it. Darn the bunks! I want to sleep on a first-rate feather-bed the rest of my life. ”

“ Cholmly, Local Inspectors, New Orleans, La. Do it right off before Mr. Romberg gets a chance to take away the boat. And oh! mother says you must sign your own name to the application—Mary Miller, or Mary Gandy Miller (’cause it isn’t legal to sign your husband’s name, and Mrs. is nothing but a title) . She’s found out that a woman has no more right, legally, to use her husband’s first name and title than he has to use hers. She says Martha Washington had more sense than to call herself Mrs. George, or Mrs. General, or Mrs. President Washington. ”

“ My baby’s birthplace? Why! I love every timber in this tight little steamboat. She is as dear to me as one of the [Pg 33] biggest houses on the river is to the fine lady who lives in it.
Phus (re-entering) . Oh, mis’! Pats he say he will go wid you up riber a piece, to where he woman lib, an’ get off dar.
Mary. Very well. I’ll see him by and by; but I don’t know as I shall want him. Oh! if my license would only come!
Phus. You licens’, mis; wot’s you licens’?
Mary (sadly) . Why, Phus, I have asked the big men at Washington to give me a license; same as the other river-captains have. ”

“ Enter Captain Miller, R., leaning on Mary’s shoulder.)
Mary. Tell me, dear, just how you feel. (Sees Phus.) Oh, Phus! you’ll scare the baby.
Phus. Mis’, de baby was a gwine to wokem up, and I specks he’d tink ’twas you.
Capt. M. Phus, take off that rig, and go on deck, you lubber! (Exit Phus, R.) Oh, I don’t know. I feel just as I did once when I was a boy, before I had the typhoid fever,—tired all over. (Sits.) My head is as light as a feather, and my feet are heavy as lead. I don’t feel as if I could step a step.
Mary. Lie down a little while, and perhaps you’ll feel better. ”

“ Mrs. G. (To Mary) We tole yer young man that looks so much like Fred Douglass not ta tell yer who we was.
J. Q. A. Marm won’t say “colored man.”
Mrs. G. No, I won’t; I’m sick o’ readin’ on’t in the newspapers. They’re allus sayin’ such a man, colored, had his leg took off, or died, or suthin’. What difference does it make, I should like to know, whether he’s colored or not! He’s hurt all the same, ain’t he? an’ he’s a man, tew, all the same, ain’t he?
Phus (aside) . Golly! I shall bust!
Mary (to Mrs. G.) . How long can you stay? ”

“ Mary. Yes, Phus; you’re always handy. I wish you could be the mate, in Patsy’s place, and help me steer the boat.
Phus. Lor’ bress you, mis’! I couldn’t do dat. I should steer for all de snags in de riber; an’ git twisted all up in de bay-yous, an’ run inter all de san’bars.
Mary. Have you found anybody yet to take Patsy’s place, if he leaves?
Phus. No, mis’. All de boys dey say as dey won’t be de mate to no woman. Dey say you has no licens’, an’ can’t be de cap’n. An’ Mass’ Rumberg, he cum an’ take away de Keyhole’s Bride.
Mary. Oh, Phus! is that what they say? ”

“ Capt. G. O child! Yer mustn’t talk as I do. Mary knows what’s proper to say, better’n yer old dad. He never had no edication. There was no ’cademy for him.
Mrs. G. Nor me, nuther. Gals wa’n’t ’lowed to go to school in my time, daown to Plymouth, when my folks lived there. There was too many boys wanted to go; and the gals had to stay ter hum, to make room for ’em.
(Enter Mary and William.)
Mary. Father, here’s Captain Miller’s son. I made his acquaintance down at the wharf last fall. (Goes to Mrs. G., seats herself on a stool near her, and arranges rags, and hands them to her.) ”

“ Thank you, sir, thank you; and if you should go to Annisport, and see Miss Leafy Jane, please tell her I hain’t forgot her, and if you can say I’ve been a good feller—and behaved tip-top—
Capt. M. Why, Hank! do you remember that little fly-away? You steady old boy, you. Of course you’ve been a good fellow, and I’ll tell her so,—if I see her,—but why don’t you write to her yourself?
[Pg 24]
Hank. Oh, sir! she might not like it.
Capt. M. That’s so. Well, do as you like, Hank. You can leave the waiter. I will eat all I can of your concoctions. (Exit Hank, R.)
Capt. M. (turning towards Mary) . ”

“ Mary. Oh! he’s all right! Here he is, father. Come and see him. (They go together to the hammock.) He hasn’t been sick a day this summer. The dear little fellow! He grows like a weed.
J. Q. A. (at the hammock, aside) . A pig weed, I s’pose.
Capt. G. Yer see, Mary, yer trouble has set me ter thinkin’; an’ when you wrote they was goin’ to take away yer boat, just cos yer was a woman, by the great horn spoon, I was mad: for yer a Gandy cl’ar through, a sea-cap’n born like all the rest on us. ”

“ Mary (in surprise) . We must start! What in the world does this mean?
Hank. Wal, you see, Leafy and me, we’ve been a-writin’ back and forth sence the cap’n told me I’d better; an’ she’s agreed to hev me, an’ go an’ live down to Nantucket. Grandfather’s old, and my marm wants me to come home an’ settle down an’ see to things. She says she’s tired o’ housekeeping, and wants to see some young folks round.
J. Q. A. (To L. J.) . ’Fore I’d marry a cook! Anybody that feels as big as you do. Cookie Mudgitt! How are you, Mrs. Cookie Mudgitt!
Capt. G. Hold your yorp! Hundreds of big men hev ben cooks. ”

“ Young enough for Mary, or Leafy Jane, either. I never wore such bright things when I was a gal; an’ I’m sure I ain’t a-gwine ter begin naow.
Capt. G. I don’t see why, Lorany! They ain’t no brighter than the marygoolds, pecuniaries (petunias) , and dadyoluses, yer like so well, in the garden, or even the persalter roses.
Mrs. G. That’s a different thing. I ain’t a flower-garden; I do wish the men-folks ’d let their wives buy their own clo’es, or give ’em the money to buy ’em with. (Sits down and braids on her mat.)
Capt. G. Why, Lorany! the wimmen folks ain’t used to layin’ out money. ”

“ Will. There’s a man out West, clear beyond the Ohio, that wants me to run a boat on the Mississippi, up and down. It’s a steamboat. He’s got a good mate for her that knows all about the ingine, and he says I can learn the ropes about that fast enough. But I don’t know. I hate to go so far from home, and almost alone too. (He looks conscious.)
Mrs. G. I should think yer would. Don’t stand gawpin’ raound, Leafy Jane. Go ’long and git yer knittin’-work. (L. J. obeys and seats herself on the log. J. Q. A. bothers her.) And yer marm, what does she say?
Will. Oh! marm, she hates to have me go ”

“ Mary (looking at him severely) . Patsy! Take that line forrard, and be quick about it!
Patsy (takes the line to L., and exit R., muttering) . I’ll not be bossed by no woman!
Mary. I don’t know what I shall do with Patsy. He threatens to leave me at the next station, and I can’t find a decent engineer short of Baton Rouge; and I mustn’t trouble William with it, he is still so feeble.
(Enter Phus, L.)
Phus. Mis’, de cap’n say he feel bet’ as did, an’ he wan’ ter see yer.
Mary. Very well, I’ll go down. You call Patsy to stand at the wheel; and then you go and stay with the baby. ”

“ L. J. John Quincy Adams Gandy, how very vulgar!
Capt. G. (to William) . What’ll you do, neaow Mary’s made capt’n? Haow’ll you git along?
Mary. Oh, we’ll both be captains.
Capt. M. No! She shall be captain still; and I’ll be her mate. It won’t be the first time a man has sailed through life under the orders of a brave and true-hearted woman,—nor the last, I hope. And so, Captain Mary Miller, I salute you. (Makes a naval salute.)
Phus. Wid a kiss! wid a kiss! Mars cap’n, kiss mis’ cap’n. ”

“ But I see naow that it’s as the lectur’-woman sed. I read it in the Transkip:—“Husband and wife is one, but that one is the husband.” I shouldn’t ’a’ tho’t o’ sellin’ yaour caarf or yaour best caow. You call ’em yaourn, an’ the caarf was allus called mine. An’, then, little Sally, that’s gone, tho’t so much on’t! (Wipes her eyes.)
Capt. G. Hang it! don’t take on so. (Aside) Darn them fellers, flingin’ their wimmin’s right at me! (To her) Who cares what the lectur’-woman says? Some darned old maid, or divorced widder, I s’pose. Didn’t I buy suthin’ for yer with the money! ”

“ And I’ve made up my mind that wimmin’s rights must be worth suthin’ to wimmin, as well as men’s rights to men. An’, as old Pete Rosson said, when he felt so bad about yer losing the boat, “Sence a woman can’t allus hev her husband or her father tew take care on her, she ort to have the right to take care o’ herself, an’ then she can use [Pg 41] it or not, as she wants tew.” An’ so I begin to think that I don’t care if we do let ’em vote. ”

“ You know I said if you did get the license, we won’t take away the boat. I’m sure you ought not to complain of that!
Mary (without turning) . Very well, sir—then, there is nothing more to say. Good-morning.
Mr. R. (shamefacedly) . Er-er-good-morning. (Exit R.)
Mary (scornfully) . So this is the way men protect women! Wretch! To dare to speak so to me!
(Re-enter Phus, R.)
Phus. O, mis’! dere’s an ol’ gemmen an’ young maars on de warf, an’ dey bof ax for you.
Mary. Why, who can they be? Ask them to come on deck.
Phus (at R.) . Dis way! Dis way!
(Captain Gandy, outside, sings.) ”

“ Such as we have ter hum. What you want is real, good, hard, fresh cod-fish or haddock, head and all, some white potatoes (none o’ your flat yellow sweets) , some onions, some Boston crackers, and a generous rasher of salt strip pork (none o’ your middlings) . But I can’t do it. They never heerd of a Boston cracker, and there ain’t a decent piece o’ fresh salt-water fish between here and Nantucket. Only this darned canned stuff; and that’s enough to p’isen a feller.
Mary (to William, from the wheel-house) . You’ll have some chowder when you get home, dear ”

“ Will. We think we’d better go to the minister’s, and have it done quiet like, the very morning before we start. We sha’n’t feel like making much of a touse about it, ’cause everybody ’ll be crying to see Mary go off.
Mrs. G. And, then, our relations live so far off, they couldn’t any on’ em come. Lucky yer made them sheets, Mary. Yer wouldn’t ’a’ had half time enough naow to get ’em done.
Capt. G. I van! mother. It reminds me o’ the time when we went to live on the Nancy Paige.
Mrs. G. So it does me.
Capt. G. There’s nothing like the sea to live on, is there, mother? ”

“ The Injuns eat it, and they said ’twould make the cap’n sleep good.
Capt. M. I should think it would,—and dream of my grandmother. If it chews like sand, it will be heavy enough.
Hank. There ain’t no decent vittals for a sick man to eat in these diggings. ’Tain’t half so good as the Nantucket feed, such as my marm used to cook. ”