Elizabeth Boardman Character Analysis

Nat remembered last winter when Hab had outgrown his coat. “Did you get cold last winter, Hab?”

“Plenty cold.”

Nat was puzzled. “But when the boys yelled at you, you always said, ‘I’m not cold. Only sissies need winter coats.’”

“Of course.” Hab frowned. “Boys don’t blubber. If something hurts, you say it doesn’t.” He looked up at the tall masts of the Freedom and grinned. “She’s a grand ship, isn’t she?”

Nat’s stomach felt hollow. What would it be like with Hab gone? But boys didn’t blubber. He bit his lips to steady them and squared his shoulders.

Elizabeth studied Nat gravely. “Funny to think you were young once, isn’t it? I suppose you seem older because of your brains. People say figures just run out of your ears. But I don’t see any.” Then, in a swift change of mood, she said, “Mary will be awfully happy here, won’t she? I mean—she knows how to be happy. Being happy takes a lot of practice, don’t you think?”

Lizza said, “Go tell David that, Elizabeth. He’ll love it.”

When Elizabeth had gone, Nat whistled softly. “How do you keep up with her?”

Lizza smiled. “She’s a dear child. But she does say the oddest things. Sometimes I think she must have been born knowing them. I tell her she has eyes in the back of her heart.”

Nat smiled. “And she says odd things? I think you’re quite a pair.”

“Do you suppose Father has them already?”

[…] “Of course! […].” Then he apologized quickly. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to bark at you.”

“I know. I’m just like a chair you stumble over in the dark,” Elizabeth said. “It isn’t the chair’s fault, but you kick it anyhow.”

Nat blinked. “What are you talking about?”

“Your brain. It’s too fast. So you stumble on other people’s dumbness. And—you want to kick something.”

Nat felt his face get hot. “But I shouldn’t.”

Elizabeth agreed. “No, you shouldn’t, because even if people are dumb, they aren’t chairs, are they? They do have feelings.”

“Lizza was right,” Nat said, “You do have eyes in the back of your heart. Come on over here and I'll show you how your father uses parallel rulers.” He smiled. “And you may ask all the questions you want to, and I promise not to bark.”

Now the meaning of the strange sailing time dawned on the crew. Nat looked at Mr. Cheevers and saw anger, amusement, and respect in his eyes. But the faces of the men before the mast were frightening to watch. Not two of the lot, Nat figured, had had the slightest intention of sailing on the Astrea. They had doubtless heard of the clever desertion of the other crew. They’d planned the same stunt, signed on for a square meal and a month’s pay. Now they faced months at sea—the terrors of the Cape—the grilling passage through the Sunda Strait—a layover in Batavia—where men died like flies.

Their baffled rage was naked on their faces.

Polly stopped smiling. “Aunt Mary, think of it this way; if a ship was aground off Salem Harbor—say on Rising States Ledge—or the Haste—every able-bodied man in Salem would be out there trying to save the crew, wouldn’t he?”

“Of course!”

“And the women wouldn’t try to stop them, would they? No matter how long and hard they worked? No matter if they were risking their lives?”

“No-o-o-o,” Mrs. Boardman admitted, “when a ship is in danger, men do everything they can.”

“Well, every ship is in danger, every time it sails,” Polly said. “But the more men know about navigation, the safer our ships will be, won’t they? Nat isn’t working to save just one ship. He’s working to make every ship safer every time it goes to sea. Every ship in America!” Polly was really warming to her idea. “Every ship in the world!”

Nat remembered last winter when Hab had outgrown his coat. “Did you get cold last winter, Hab?”

“Plenty cold.”

Nat was puzzled. “But when the boys yelled at you, you always said, ‘I’m not cold. Only sissies need winter coats.’”

“Of course.” Hab frowned. “Boys don’t blubber. If something hurts, you say it doesn’t.” He looked up at the tall masts of the Freedom and grinned. “She’s a grand ship, isn’t she?”

Nat’s stomach felt hollow. What would it be like with Hab gone? But boys didn’t blubber. He bit his lips to steady them and squared his shoulders.

Elizabeth studied Nat gravely. “Funny to think you were young once, isn’t it? I suppose you seem older because of your brains. People say figures just run out of your ears. But I don’t see any.” Then, in a swift change of mood, she said, “Mary will be awfully happy here, won’t she? I mean—she knows how to be happy. Being happy takes a lot of practice, don’t you think?”

Lizza said, “Go tell David that, Elizabeth. He’ll love it.”

When Elizabeth had gone, Nat whistled softly. “How do you keep up with her?”

Lizza smiled. “She’s a dear child. But she does say the oddest things. Sometimes I think she must have been born knowing them. I tell her she has eyes in the back of her heart.”

Nat smiled. “And she says odd things? I think you’re quite a pair.”

“Do you suppose Father has them already?”

[…] “Of course! […].” Then he apologized quickly. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to bark at you.”

“I know. I’m just like a chair you stumble over in the dark,” Elizabeth said. “It isn’t the chair’s fault, but you kick it anyhow.”

Nat blinked. “What are you talking about?”

“Your brain. It’s too fast. So you stumble on other people’s dumbness. And—you want to kick something.”

Nat felt his face get hot. “But I shouldn’t.”

Elizabeth agreed. “No, you shouldn’t, because even if people are dumb, they aren’t chairs, are they? They do have feelings.”

“Lizza was right,” Nat said, “You do have eyes in the back of your heart. Come on over here and I'll show you how your father uses parallel rulers.” He smiled. “And you may ask all the questions you want to, and I promise not to bark.”

Now the meaning of the strange sailing time dawned on the crew. Nat looked at Mr. Cheevers and saw anger, amusement, and respect in his eyes. But the faces of the men before the mast were frightening to watch. Not two of the lot, Nat figured, had had the slightest intention of sailing on the Astrea. They had doubtless heard of the clever desertion of the other crew. They’d planned the same stunt, signed on for a square meal and a month’s pay. Now they faced months at sea—the terrors of the Cape—the grilling passage through the Sunda Strait—a layover in Batavia—where men died like flies.

Their baffled rage was naked on their faces.

Polly stopped smiling. “Aunt Mary, think of it this way; if a ship was aground off Salem Harbor—say on Rising States Ledge—or the Haste—every able-bodied man in Salem would be out there trying to save the crew, wouldn’t he?”

“Of course!”

“And the women wouldn’t try to stop them, would they? No matter how long and hard they worked? No matter if they were risking their lives?”

“No-o-o-o,” Mrs. Boardman admitted, “when a ship is in danger, men do everything they can.”

“Well, every ship is in danger, every time it sails,” Polly said. “But the more men know about navigation, the safer our ships will be, won’t they? Nat isn’t working to save just one ship. He’s working to make every ship safer every time it goes to sea. Every ship in America!” Polly was really warming to her idea. “Every ship in the world!”