Polly Ingersoll Quotes in Carry On, Mr. Bowditch
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.
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!”
“He speaks for a lot of men, Polly. I’m not saying that there are many as mean-spirited as he is—thank heaven. But there are hundreds—thousands—who don’t believe in ‘book sailing.’ You know, seafaring is a lot like medicine. On the one hand—superstition and old wives’ tales; on the other hand—the scientist, trying to solve puzzles and find the answers. And all through the ages men have believed the superstitions and doubted the scientist. Natural, I suppose. You believe what you grow up believing. It’s hard to change.”
“You can’t remember, Polly, when we first started inoculating for smallpox.” He shook his head. “Wonder to me I wasn’t lynched. Inoculation was risky—but not as bad as the epidemics of the smallpox. Then vaccination came along. It was safer, but people raised almost as much fuss.”
Lem growled. “When did you last shoot the sun?”
“About three days ago.”
Lem gulped. “Three days? Seventy-two hours? And since then?”
“It’s simple mathematics, Lem. At such a speed, in so many hours, you log so many miles in a given direction. It’s—”
“Yeah,” Lem growled. “Seventy-two hours through the Roaring Forties. Seventy-two hours by dead reckoning, and then you enter Salem Harbor. Why, you…[…]” He slumped in a chair and stared at Nat.
Nat winked at Polly. “Have you any idea what’s the matter with him?”
Polly’s eyes danced. “He just doesn’t understand about you and mathematics, dear. Two plus two is four. It comes out right, doesn’t it?”
[Polly] looked at Nat with glowing eyes. “It’s really you! Captain Bowditch, F.A.A. and A.M., I’m very proud of you!” She blinked back sudden tears. “Oh, Nat, it’s been so long!”
Nat’s arm tightened around her. Somewhere out of the past a voice whispered, “A long time to sail by ash breeze.”
“Was it awfully hard?” Polly asked.
“Not too bad, Nat told her. “Rough weather sometimes. But I’ll say this for it—I was never becalmed!”
Polly Ingersoll Quotes in Carry On, Mr. Bowditch
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.
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!”
“He speaks for a lot of men, Polly. I’m not saying that there are many as mean-spirited as he is—thank heaven. But there are hundreds—thousands—who don’t believe in ‘book sailing.’ You know, seafaring is a lot like medicine. On the one hand—superstition and old wives’ tales; on the other hand—the scientist, trying to solve puzzles and find the answers. And all through the ages men have believed the superstitions and doubted the scientist. Natural, I suppose. You believe what you grow up believing. It’s hard to change.”
“You can’t remember, Polly, when we first started inoculating for smallpox.” He shook his head. “Wonder to me I wasn’t lynched. Inoculation was risky—but not as bad as the epidemics of the smallpox. Then vaccination came along. It was safer, but people raised almost as much fuss.”
Lem growled. “When did you last shoot the sun?”
“About three days ago.”
Lem gulped. “Three days? Seventy-two hours? And since then?”
“It’s simple mathematics, Lem. At such a speed, in so many hours, you log so many miles in a given direction. It’s—”
“Yeah,” Lem growled. “Seventy-two hours through the Roaring Forties. Seventy-two hours by dead reckoning, and then you enter Salem Harbor. Why, you…[…]” He slumped in a chair and stared at Nat.
Nat winked at Polly. “Have you any idea what’s the matter with him?”
Polly’s eyes danced. “He just doesn’t understand about you and mathematics, dear. Two plus two is four. It comes out right, doesn’t it?”
[Polly] looked at Nat with glowing eyes. “It’s really you! Captain Bowditch, F.A.A. and A.M., I’m very proud of you!” She blinked back sudden tears. “Oh, Nat, it’s been so long!”
Nat’s arm tightened around her. Somewhere out of the past a voice whispered, “A long time to sail by ash breeze.”
“Was it awfully hard?” Polly asked.
“Not too bad, Nat told her. “Rough weather sometimes. But I’ll say this for it—I was never becalmed!”