Phemie Frost's Experiences Part 71

Two carriage-loads of people were at Pleasure Bay, wandering about under the trees in front of the hotel. Down between them and the bank was a lot of men piling up a heap of round stones and crossing sticks of wood over them till a high sort of a cross-beam pinnacle was built, to which one of the men set fire. Mercy, how it blazed up and flashed through the cracks in the wood! They seemed to enjoy the blaze, and worked like beavers around it--though I don't know how a beaver works, never having seen one.

Some of the men went down to the water, and, dragging up great armfuls of dark green and yellow gra.s.s, swelled out here and there with bulbs and blisters, laid it in a heap before the fire. Some of the others sat down on the rocks, with pails of potatoes and sweet corn between their knees, which they began to wash and tie up in their husks.

I was awful curious to know what all this was about, but made up my mind to wait and see; for Mr. Burke seemed so anxious and busy that I didn't want to stop him by asking questions.

When the wet weeds, potatoes, and corn came on, I thought that the next thing would be some clam-bake; but instead of that, a fellow came down from the house with a lot of young chickens, picked clean, which he carried by the legs, and another loafed up from the water with three great horrid green monsters, like crabs swelled out--green as the sea-weed, and so dreadfully crawly that the very sight of them made me creep all over.

"What on earth are those creatures?" says I to Dempster; "mammoth c.o.c.kroaches that have taken to a seafaring life, or what?"

"Why, lobsters," says he.

"Lobsters!" says I. "Not a bit of it. All the lobsters I have ever seen were bright red, and still as mice."

"That was after they were cooked," says he. "Wait till these come out, and they'll be red enough, I promise you."

Well, I waited and watched, for what these men were up to was more than I could make out. When the wood was all burned down they brushed the coals and ashes away with an old broom, and two colored men came up from the sh.o.r.e, carrying a two-bushel basket full of little longish-round creatures, hard as stone, and with a long black sort of a knot hanging out of one end. They were dripping wet, and pieces of sea-weed clung to them, as if they grew in the water like the crabs and lobsters.

Well, when the ashes were swept away, and nothing but the hot stones were left crowded close together, the two nig--well, colored persons, lifted that great basket between them and poured the round creatures among the hot stones till they sissed again. Then they piled on a heap of sea-weed, and a cloud of steam came pouring through. Then another layer, and over that the potatoes and corn were poured down and laid on.

Then another layer of weeds, and the chickens and three great large fish, done up in cloths, were laid out for a steaming, and with them those live, green lobsters. Oh, mercy! how they did spread their claws and crawl through the sea-weed! It was enough to make you creep all over; but the men soon smothered them with steaming gra.s.s, which heaved up and down for a while, and then sank off, till the lobsters lay as dead as the chickens, and made no more fuss about being roasted alive.

By this time the whole heap--gra.s.s, chickens, corn, lobsters, and other sh.e.l.l creatures--was big as a small haystack. At last the two colored persons came down with a long tin pail, in which was a roll of b.u.t.ter and some vinegar. They sunk the pail down into the steaming sea-gra.s.s, clapped the corn on, and buried it with all the rest. Then more sea-weed and an old boat-sail flung over all, and that little mountain of roasting things was left to steam and sizzle while the whole party went to take a walk along the sh.o.r.e.

Mr. Burke kept by my side, and part of the time he carried my parasol, shading my face with it in the tenderest way.

He said something about the clam-bake, but I had really got so sick of everything in the fish, fowl, or vegetable line, that a curiosity, more or less, was of no consequence, so I said I should know how I liked clam-bakes better when I had seen one.

He answered that would be soon, for half an hour was enough to put one through.

Sisters, I was in no sort of hurry about it, for the rest of them were busy chatting and talking, so that we were just as good as alone, and the moments were precious as gold sands in an hour-gla.s.s.

By and by some one set up a shout. Mr. Burke wheeled right round, and says he:

"They are going to open the clam-bake; come and see it done?"

CHAPTER XCVI.

THAT CLAM BAKE.

He walked fast. I followed him with reluctant footsteps. What did I care for clam-bakes or any other new-fangled vegetable while he was by my side?

The crowd were all around that heap of sea-weed when we came up. Men, women, Irish help, and nig--well, colored freemen, with eager eyes and open mouths, were waiting for the sail-cloth to be taken off. On the gra.s.s, under the trees, a great long table was set out with plates, gla.s.ses, castors, and things. At the end, two pails of ice, with the necks of a dozen bottles peeping up like hungry birds in a nest, stood ready for somebody to uncork.

Well, the nig--freedman gave that sail a jerk, and a cloud of salty steam rolled up from the sea-gra.s.s. Then he raked away a winrow of that, dug out a pail of melted b.u.t.ter and vinegar, and held a lobster up by one claw, looking red as a British soldier's jacket. The creature had given up fighting, and hung in his hand meek as Moses. The poor thing was green enough when he went in, but came out blazing red and steaming hot.

More sea-weed; chickens dripping with gravy; heaps of corn; potatoes, mealy, and broken open; fish, and then those longish-round sh.e.l.l things, heaped in plates and dishes, were carried off to the table. We followed those dishes; we sat down to eat. Those longish hard-sh.e.l.led creatures had all burst open, and something that smelt delicious lay inside, with black heads sticking out.

I watched to see what the rest did with those animals, then seized one by the head, drew him out, soused him in the melted b.u.t.ter, and dropped him softly into my open mouth.

"Delicious, scrumptious, beyond anything I ever ate in my life," says I, when Mr. Burke leaned toward me and wanted to know how I liked it. "But what are these black-headed things with sh.e.l.ls, called?"

"Oh, soft-sh.e.l.ls--the best part of the clam-bake, I think," says he.

"I reckon you are right," says I, taking another little fellow by the nape of the neck, and biting him off at the shoulders. Then I drank a gla.s.s of the sparklingest cider you ever tasted, and went in for an ear of corn, smoking hot, and the breast of a chicken.

Mr. Burke wanted me to eat some of the red lobster, but the thought of it made me creep all over, so I asked to be excused, and said I preferred a dozen or two more soft-sh.e.l.ls.

There was a good deal of first-rate cider drank around that table, and we left a bushel of open sh.e.l.ls under the trees, besides a heap of lobsters, clams, and chicken bones, well picked.

Then we went back to look at the place where they had been cooked, and found nothing but a heap of smoking stones, a ring of burnt gra.s.s, and a pile of steamy sea-weed. Somehow, the sight of it all made me feel sort of faint, and it didn't seem to me that I should ever want to eat or drink again.

We went home from Pleasure Bay in the carriage, feeling lazy and kind of half sea-sick.

That night I dreamed that a whole regiment of green lobsters were crawling over my bed, clawing at me fiercely as they went. Then I thought that Mr. Burke came and shoved them off with both arms flung out, and invited me to breakfast on a heap of empty sh.e.l.ls, dipped in b.u.t.ter, which set awful heavy on my stomach.

In fact, I had a worrying night, and got up feeling as if I had been feasting on tenpenny nails and roasted flat-irons.

XCVII.

ONE HOUR OF HEAVEN.

Dear sisters:--You haven't the least idea of what warm weather is in Vermont. Why, if one of your mountain trout streams could have run through New York, it would have boiled over and cooked the poor little speckled creatures that live in its waves. You never saw anything like it in your born days. The sea breezes at Long Branch seemed to come over an ocean of melted lead, blasted up by some old furnace of a volcano.

For one whole week I was just dying of envy, when I thought of the pigs roving loose in our village, with such lovely mud puddles to lie down in, without caring a sumarke whether their clothes were mussed--excuse that word, I got it here in York--or not.

While I was panting for breath on the sea-sh.o.r.e, I could think of them, with home-sick longing, up to their throats in the soft, mushy fluid of a delicious puddle, with swarms of yellow b.u.t.terflies rising, floating, and settling around them, as if a bed of primroses had got tired of growing in one place, and had burst off on a grand spree through the air, settling down for a drink now and then.

Yes, sisters, I was brought, in the hot blast of those summer days, to a state of unchristian envy, and would have been glad to swap places with flounders, or have slept in some cellar, with a block of ice for a pillow.

But nothing that I ever saw lasts for ever, or if it does I haven't lived long enough to prove it. Still, one gets restless in weather like this, when human beings are dropping down dead in the streets of a city close by in dozens, from sunstrokes.

This morning I sat in my room, with a short gown and not over many skirts on, looking through the green slats of my door, and watching the suns.h.i.+ne s.h.i.+mmer down on the waves where the little white vessels were folding their sails, and going to sleep like birds too lazy for flying, when a colored person came to my door, and says he:

"Mr. Burke's compliments, and will Miss Frost take a walk with him on the beach?"

I started up, and, says I:

"Won't I!" Then I composed myself, and sent back compliments, and Miss Frost will have great pleasure in complying with Mr. Burke's polite invitation.

When the--colored messenger was gone, I sat down in the Boston rocker, clasped my hands, and drew a deep, deep sigh of ecstatic expectation.

Then I remembered that he was waiting, and sprang to my feet.