Silk Hat for Ice Cutting: Schooner Days MXXXV (1035)

by C. H. J. Snider

Early Bird in the Lake—II.

SCHOONER CAP aloft and ice-cutting rig below, Capt. John Williams, normally the nattiest of the lake masters, walked modestly into the best headwear emporium in the city of Rochester, N.Y. The time was the fourth week in February, 1890. His schooner Speedwell had made a mid-winter run with ice from Canada for the Rochester breweries. In his pocket he had a cheque for $628 for the highly profitable cargo. Playing the country galoot in the big city, in his hand he flourished an envelope on which could be seen the name of the biggest brewery of the day, the XYZ.

"What for you?" asked a clerk briskly.

"A hat," said John with respect.

The clerk showed him a 75 cent, soft felt with a flat crown, dinted with a ring all round, known in those days as a knockabout.

"That's the cheapest we have;" said the clerk.

"I might go higher," John replied slowly. So they went through the stock of the store until there were more hatboxes on the counter than there had been ice blocks on the Speedwell's deck.

"Here" said the clerk at last, "is the best felt hat in New York state."

THE BEST IN THE HOUSE

He produced one of those dome shaped coverings with a curly brim which the English called "bowlers" and we called "christystiffs," all in one word.

"Not quite good enough," said John, "if I'm to lead the Seventeenth of March parade when I get back to Toronto."

He wouldn't have known St. Patrick if he had met him aboard the Speedwell, but he relished playing parts and particularly ad lib-ing.

"For that," said the clerk in the language of 1890," you'll need a silk plug. Here's our very best. But it will cost you money, I'm telling you — $10, We have them for less, as low as $5, but you say you want the very best." "Oh, yes," said John.

"I'll take that one, and this will pay for it."

He tendered the envelope. The clerk, recognizing the order of the store's biggest customer for "the best in the place for my friend Captain Williams" became obsequious, and added a leather hat-box gratis. Five dollars was enough for a good silk hat at the time.

Capt. Williams went back to the Speedwell chuckling, swinging his hat-box by its strap. It was the first one he had ever seen.

WAIT AND SEE

"What in flames, cap," asked Buzz Blanchard when hie came aboard, "are ye goin' to do with that thing? Looks like a draw-bucket made outa a cheese box."

"You'll see, Buzz my boy, perhaps," said Capt. Williams darkly. Buzz was his best helmsman, the only man on Lake Ontario who could keep the Speedwell from turning round and making faces at her own wake, for at times she was desperately hard to steer. So Capt. Williams spoke Buzz softly. He had another ice-cutting voyage ahead.

Lake Ontario stretched before him, wide as the world, for there was neither ship nor shore to be seen. The Speedwell might have been alone in the Arctic ocean. The low sun shone bright in the frosty air. The air was colder than the water, and the lake boiled like a pot, columns and twists of white vapor rising from the smooth surface like twists of wool, as high as the cross trees. The water was invisible under this vaporous blanket. Aloft a gentle west wind blew the Speedwell's long red fly or wind-finder out like a frozen redhot poker, and kept the newly bent gafftopsail asleep. The old girl was slipping northward faster than you would think. But she was not homeward bound.

Newfoundland Sealers in the Ice for the Spring Catch — the Speedwell's "Icecapade" in 1890 Was Earlier and Nearer Home, on Lake Ontario in February