A Strange Sail

"A Strange Sail" by Sarah Orne Jewett is a novella that delves into themes of adventure, self-discovery, and the complexities of human relationships. The story follows the experiences of a young woman who embarks on a journey that challenges her perceptions of love and independence. Set against the backdrop of the coastal landscape, Jewett's lyrical prose captures the beauty of nature and the intricacies of personal transformation, as the protagonist navigates her own emotions and the unexpected encounters that shape her identity. Through vivid imagery and rich character development, the novella explores the nuances of longing and the search for one's place in the world.

• Short story

								
Except for a few stray guests, islanders or from the inland country, to
whom Mrs. Todd offered the hospitalities of a single meal, we were quite
by ourselves all summer; and when there were signs of invasion, late in
July, and a certain Mrs. Fosdick appeared like a strange sail on the far
horizon, I suffered much from apprehension. I had been living in the
quaint little house with as much comfort and unconsciousness as if it
were a larger body, or a double shell, in whose simple convolutions Mrs.
Todd and I had secreted ourselves, until some wandering hermit crab of a
visitor marked the little spare room for her own. Perhaps now and then a
castaway on a lonely desert island dreads the thought of being rescued.
I heard of Mrs. Fosdick for the first time with a selfish sense of
objection; but after all, I was still vacation-tenant of the
schoolhouse, where I could always be alone, and it was impossible not to
sympathize with Mrs. Todd, who, in spite of some preliminary grumbling,
was really delighted with the prospect of entertaining an old friend.

For nearly a month we received occasional news of Mrs. Fosdick, who
seemed to be making a royal progress from house to house in the inland
neighborhood, after the fashion of Queen Elizabeth. One Sunday after
another came and went, disappointing Mrs. Todd in the hope of seeing her
guest at church and fixing the day for the great visit to begin; but
Mrs. Fosdick was not ready to commit herself to a date. An assurance of
“some time this week” was not sufficiently definite from a free-footed
housekeeper’s point of view, and Mrs. Todd put aside all herb-gathering
plans, and went through the various stages of expectation, provocation,
and despair. At last she was ready to believe that Mrs. Fosdick must
have forgotten her promise and returned to her home, which was vaguely
said to be over Thomaston way. But one evening, just as the supper-table
was cleared and “readied up,” and Mrs. Todd had put her large apron over
her head and stepped forth for an evening stroll in the garden, the
unexpected happened. She heard the sound of wheels, and gave an excited
cry to me, as I sat by the window, that Mrs. Fosdick was coming right up
the street.

“She may not be considerate, but she’s dreadful good company,” said Mrs.
Todd hastily, coming back a few steps from the neighborhood of the gate.
“No, she ain’t a mite considerate, but there’s a small lobster left over
from your tea; yes, it’s a real mercy there’s a lobster. Susan Fosdick
might just as well have passed the compliment o’ comin’ an hour ago.”

“Perhaps she has had her supper,” I ventured to suggest, sharing the
housekeeper’s anxiety, and meekly conscious of an inconsiderate appetite
for my own supper after a long expedition up the bay. There were so few
emergencies of any sort at Dunnet Landing that this one appeared
overwhelming.

“No, she’s rode ’way over from Nahum Brayton’s place. I expect they were
busy on the farm, and couldn’t spare the horse in proper season. You
just sly out an’ set the teakittle on again, dear, an’ drop in a good
han’ful o’ chips; the fire’s all alive. I’ll take her right up to lay
off her things, an’ she’ll be occupied with explanations an’ gettin’ her
bunnit off, so you’ll have plenty o’ time. She’s one I shouldn’t like to
have find me unprepared.”

Mrs. Fosdick was already at the gate, and Mrs. Todd now turned with an
air of complete surprise and delight to welcome her.

“Why, Susan Fosdick,” I heard her exclaim in a fine unhindered voice, as
if she were calling across a field, “I come near giving of you up! I was
afraid you’d gone an’ ’portioned out my visit to somebody else. I s’pose
you’ve been to supper?”

“Lor’, no, I ain’t, Almiry Todd,” said Mrs. Fosdick cheerfully, as she
turned, laden with bags and bundles, from making her adieux to the boy
driver. “I ain’t had a mite o’ supper, dear. I’ve been lottin’ all the
way on a cup o’ that best tea o’ yourn,—some o’ that Oolong you keep in
the little chist. I don’t want none o’ your useful herbs.”

“I keep that tea for ministers’ folks,” gayly responded Mrs. Todd. “Come
right along in, Susan Fosdick. I declare if you ain’t the same old
sixpence!”

As they came up the walk together, laughing like girls, I fled, full of
cares, to the kitchen, to brighten the fire and be sure that the
lobster, sole dependence of a late supper, was well out of reach of the
cat. There proved to be fine reserves of wild raspberries and bread and
butter, so that I regained my composure, and waited impatiently for my
own share of this illustrious visit to begin. There was an instant sense
of high festivity in the evening air from the moment when our guest had
so frankly demanded the Oolong tea.

The great moment arrived. I was formally presented at the stair-foot,
and the two friends passed on to the kitchen, where I soon heard a
hospitable clink of crockery and the brisk stirring of a tea-cup. I sat
in my high-backed rocking-chair by the window in the front room with an
unreasonable feeling of being left out, like the child who stood at the
gate in Hans Andersen’s story. Mrs. Fosdick did not look, at first
sight, like a person of great social gifts. She was a serious-looking
little bit of an old woman, with a birdlike nod of the head. I had often
been told that she was the “best hand in the world to make a visit,”—as
if to visit were the highest of vocations; that everybody wished for
her, while few could get her; and I saw that Mrs. Todd felt a
comfortable sense of distinction in being favored with the company of
this eminent person who “knew just how.” It was certainly true that Mrs.
Fosdick gave both her hostess and me a warm feeling of enjoyment and
expectation, as if she had the power of social suggestion to all
neighboring minds.

The two friends did not reappear for at least an hour. I could hear
their busy voices, loud and low by turns, as they ranged from public to
confidential topics. At last Mrs. Todd kindly remembered me and
returned, giving my door a ceremonious knock before she stepped in, with
the small visitor in her wake. She reached behind her and took Mrs.
Fosdick’s hand as if she were young and bashful, and gave her a gentle
pull forward.

“There, I don’t know whether you’re goin’ to take to each other or not;
no, nobody can’t tell whether you’ll suit each other, but I expect
you’ll get along some way, both having seen the world,” said our
affectionate hostess. “You can inform Mis’ Fosdick how we found the
folks out to Green Island the other day. She’s always been well
acquainted with mother. I’ll slip out now an’ put away the supper things
an’ set my bread to rise, if you’ll both excuse me. You can come out an’
keep me company when you get ready, either or both.” And Mrs. Todd,
large and amiable, disappeared and left us.

Being furnished not only with a subject of conversation, but with a safe
refuge in the kitchen in case of incompatibility, Mrs. Fosdick and I sat
down, prepared to make the best of each other. I soon discovered that

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