Ashore and Afloat

"Ashore and Afloat" is a captivating collection of essays and stories by Sarah Orne Jewett that explores themes of nature, coastal life, and the intricacies of human relationships. Through her vivid prose, Jewett paints a portrait of the rugged beauty of New England's seaside towns and the people who inhabit them. The narratives reflect her deep appreciation for the maritime environment and offer insightful observations on community, resilience, and the interplay between land and sea. This work showcases Jewett's masterful storytelling and her ability to capture the essence of life along the coast.

• Short story

								
"Your cousin Walter Parish is coming to dine with us to-day," said
Miss Prince, later that morning. "He came to the Fraleys just after
you went out last evening, to speak with me about a business matter,
and waited to walk home with me afterward. I have been meaning to
invite him here with his wife, but there doesn't seem to be much
prospect of her leaving her room for some time yet, and this morning I
happened to find an uncommonly good pair of young ducks. Old Mr. Brown
has kept my liking for them in mind for a great many years. Your
grandfather used to say that there was nothing like a duckling to his
taste; he used to eat them in England, but people in this country let
them get too old. He was willing to pay a great price for ducklings
always; but even Mr. Brown seems to think it is a great wrong not to
let them grow until Thanksgiving time, and makes a great many
apologies every year. It is from his farm that we always get the best
lamb too; they are very nice people, the Browns, but the poor old man
seems very feeble this summer. Some day I should really like to take a
drive out into the country to see them, you know so well how to manage
a horse. You can spare a day or two to give time for that, can't you?"

Nan was sorry to hear the pleading tone, it was so unlike her aunt's
usually severe manner, and answered quickly that she should be very
glad to make the little excursion. Mr. Brown had asked her to come to
the farm one day near the beginning of her visit.

"You must say this is home, if you can," said Miss Prince, who was a
good deal excited and shaken that morning, "and not think of yourself
as a visitor any more. There are a great many things I hope you can
understand, even if I have left them unsaid. It has really seemed more
like home since you have been here, and less like a lodging. I wonder
how I--When did you see Mr. Brown? I did not know you had ever spoken
to him."

"It was some time ago," the girl answered. "I was in the kitchen, and
he came to the door. He seemed very glad to see me," and Nan hesitated
a moment. "He said I was like my father."

"Yes, indeed," responded Miss Prince, drearily; and the thought seized
her that it was very strange that the same mistaken persistency should
show itself in father and child in exactly opposite ways. If Nan would
only care as much for marrying George Gerry, as her father had for
marrying his wretched wife! It seemed more and more impossible that
this little lady should be the daughter of such a woman; how dismayed
the girl would be if she could be shown her mother's nature as Miss
Prince remembered it. Alas! this was already a sorrow which no vision
of the reality could deepen, and the frank words of the Oldfields
country people about the bad Thachers had not been spoken fruitlessly
in the ears of their last descendant.

"I am so glad the captain is coming," Nan said presently, to break the
painful silence. "I do hope that he and Dr. Leslie will know each
other some time, they would be such capital friends. The doctor sent
his kind regards to you in last night's letter, and asked me again to
say that he hoped that you would come to us before the summer is over.
I should like so much to have you know what Oldfields is like." It was
hard to save herself from saying "home" again, instead of Oldfields,
but the change of words was made quickly.

"He is very courteous and hospitable, but I never pay visits
nowadays," said Miss Prince, and thought almost angrily that there was
no necessity for her making a target of herself for all those curious
country-people's eyes. And then they rose and separated for a time,
each being burdened less by care than thought.

The captain came early to dine, and brought with him his own and Miss
Prince's letters from the post-office, together with the morning
paper, which he proceeded to read. He also seemed to have a weight
upon his mind, but by the time they were at table a mild cheerfulness
made itself felt, and Nan summoned all her resources and was gayer and
brighter than usual. Miss Prince had gone down town early in the day,
and her niece was perfectly sure that there had been a consultation
with Mr. Gerry. He had passed the house while Nan sat at her upper
window writing, and had looked somewhat wistfully at the door as if he
had half a mind to enter it. He was like a great magnet: it seemed
impossible to resist looking after him, and indeed his ghost-like
presence would not forsake her mind, but seemed urging her toward his
visible self. The thought of him was so powerful that the sight of the
young man was less strange and compelling, and it was almost a relief
to have seen his familiar appearance,--the strong figure in its
every-day clothes, his unstudent-like vigor, and easy step as he went
by. She liked him still, but she hated love, it was making her so
miserable,--even when later she told Captain Parish some delightful
Oldfields stories, of so humorous a kind that he laughed long and
struck the table more than once, which set the glasses jingling, and
gave a splendid approval to the time-honored fun. The ducklings were
amazingly good; and when Captain Walter had tasted his wine and read
the silver label on the decanter, which as usual gave no evidence of
the rank and dignity of the contents, his eyes sparkled with
satisfaction, and he turned to his cousin's daughter with impressive
gravity.

"You may never have tasted such wine as that," he said. "Your
grandfather, the luckiest captain who ever sailed out of Dunport,
brought it home fifty years ago, and it was well ripened then. I
didn't know there was a bottle of it left, Nancy," he laughed. "My
dear, your aunt has undertaken to pay one of us a handsome
compliment."

"Your health, cousin Walter!" said the girl quickly, lifting her own
glass, and making him a little bow over the old Madeira.

"Bless your dear heart!" responded the captain; "the same good wishes
to you in return, and now you must join me in my respects to your
aunt. Nancy! I beg you not to waste this in pudding-sauces; that's the
way with you ladies."

The toast-drinking had a good effect upon the little company, and it
seemed as if the cloud which had hung over it at first had been blown
away. When there was no longer any excuse for lingering at the table,
the guest seemed again a little ill at ease, and after a glance at his
hostess, proposed to Nan that they should take a look at the garden.
The old sailor had become in his later years a devoted tiller of the
soil, and pleaded a desire to see some late roses which were just now
in bloom. So he and Nan went down the walk together, and he fidgeted
and hurried about for a few minutes before he could make up his mind
to begin a speech which was weighing heavily on his conscience.

Nan was sure that something unusual was perplexing him, and answered

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