Log Search Results

  I am writing this at the house of Smith Oakes, within one mile of the wreck. He is the one who rendered the most assistance. Wm H Channing come down with me, but I have not seen Arthur Fuller—nor [Horace] Greeley, nor [Marcus] Spring. Spring & [Charles] Sumner were here yesterday, but left soon. Mr Oakes & wife tell me (all the survivors came or were brought dir[ec]tly to their house) that the ship struck at 10 minutes after 4 A M. and all hands, being mostly in their night clothes made haste to the forecastle—the water coming in [at o]nce. There they remained the passengers in the forecastle, the crew above it doing what they could. Every wave lifted the forecastle roof & washed over those within. The first man got ashore at 9. many from 9 to noon—. At floodtide about 3½ o’clock when the ship broke up entirely—they came out of the forecastle & Margaret sat with her back to the foremast with her hands over her knees—her husband & child already drowned—a great wave came & washed her off. The Steward? had just before taken her child & started for shore; both were drowned.

  The broken desk in a bag—containing no very valuable papers—a large black leather trunk—with an upper and under apartment—the upper holding books & papers—A carpet bag probably Ossolis and one of his? shoes—are all the Ossolis’ effects known to have been found.

  Four bodies remain to be found—the two Ossoli’s—Horace Summer—& a sailor.

  I have visited the child’s grave—Nobody will probably be taken away today.

  The wreck is to be sold at auction—excepting the hull—todav The mortar would not go off. Mrs Hartz the Captain’s wife, told Mrs Oakes that she & Margaret divided their money-&tied up the halves in handkerchiefs around their persons that Margaret took 60 or 70 dol[lars.] Mrs Hartz who can tell all about Margaret up to 11 ‘oclock on Friday is said to be going to Portland Me. today—She & Mrs Fuller must & probably will come together. The cook, the last to leave, & the Steward? will know the rest. I shall try to see them. In the meanwhile I shall do what I can to recover property & obtain particulars here abouts. Wm H. Channing—did I write it? has come with me. Arthur Fuller has this moment reached this house. He reached the beach last night—we got here yesterday noon. A good part of the wreck still holds together where she struck, & something may come ashore with her fragments. The last body was found on Tuesday 3 mules west. Mrs Oakes dried the papers which were in the trunk—and she says they appeared to be of various kinds. “Would they cover that table”?, a small round one—”They would spread out”—Some were tied tip. There were 20 or 30 books in the same half of the trunk. Another, smaller trunk empty, came ashore, but there is no mark on it—She speaks of [Celesta] Pardena as if she might have been a sort of nurse to the child”—I expect to go to Patchogue whence the pilferers must have chiefly come—& advertise &c &c.

  This early twitter or breathing of chip-birds in the dawn sounds like something organic in the earth. This is a morning celebrated by birds. Our bluebird sits on the peak of the house and warbles as in the spring, but as he does not now by day . . .

  The ditch stonecrop is abundant in the now dry pool by the roadside near Hubbard’s.

  From Fair Haven Hill, the sun having risen, I see great wreaths of fog far northeast, revealing the course of the river, a noble sight, as it were the river elevated, or rather the ghost of the ample stream that once flowed to ocean between these now distant uplands in another geological period, filling the broad meadows,—the dews saved to the earth by this great Musketaquid condenser, refrigerator. And now the rising sun makes glow with downiest white the ample wreaths, which rise higher than the highest trees . . .

  I have for years had a great deal of trouble with my shoe-strings, because they get untied continually. They are leather, rolled and tied in a hard knot. But some days I could hardly go twenty rods before I was obliged to stop and stoop to tie my shoes . . .

  Those New-Hampshire-like pastures near Asa Melvin’s are covered or dotted with bunches of indigo . . .

  P. M.—To Bare Hill, Lincoln, via railroad.

  High blackberries, a day or two. The middle umbellet of the bristly aralia in some places, also a day or more . . .

  Lycopus Virginicus, with its runners, perhaps some days, in Hosmer Flat Meadow . . .

  The street is now strewn with bark under the buttonwood at the brick house. Has not the hot weather taken the bark off?

  The air begins to be thick and almost smoky.

  The shores of this lake are rocky, rarely sandy, and we saw no good places for moose to come out on, i.e. no meadows. What P. called Caucomgomoc Mountain, with a double top, was seen north over the lake in mid-forenoon . . .

Thoreau writes in “The Allegash and East Branch” chapter of The Maine Woods:

At breakfast this Saturday morning, the Indian, apparently curious to know what would be expected of him the next day, whether we should go along or not, asked me how I spent Sunday when at home. I told him that I commonly sat in my chamber reading, etc., in the forenoon, and went to talk in the afternoon. At which he shook his head and said, “Er, that is ver bad.” “How do you spend it?” I asked. He said that he did no work, that he went to church at Oldtown when he was at home; in short, he did as he had been taught by the whites. This lead to a discussion on which I found myself as the minority. He stated that he was a protestant, and asked me if I was. I did not at first know what to say, but I thought that I could answer with truth that I was . . .

  P.M.—Water three and a half inches above summer level. I measure the rapidity of the river’s current . . . (Journal, 12:258).