Upon one of these occasions a party of fourteen men started from Bethel on a Monday morning for New York. Among the number were my grandfather, Capt. Noah Ferry, Benjamin Hoyt, Esq., Uncle Samuel Taylor, (as he was called by everybody,) Eleazer Taylor, and Charles Dart. Most of these were proverbial jokers, and it was doubly necessary to adopt the stipulation in regard to the control of temper. It was therefore done in writing, duly signed.
They arrived at Norwalk Monday afternoon. The sloop set sail the same evening, with a fair prospect of reaching New York early the next morning. Several strangers took passage at Norwalk, among the rest a clergyman. He soon found himself in jolly company, and attempted to keep aloof. But they informed him it was no use, they expected to reach New York the next morning, and were determined to “make a night of it,” so he might as well render himself agreeable, for sleep was out of the question. His “Reverence” remonstrated at first, and talked about “his rights,” but he soon learned that he was in a company where the rights of “the majority” were in the ascendant; so he put a smooth face upon affairs, and making up his mind not to retire that night, he soon engaged in conversation with several of his fellow-passengers.
The clergyman was a slim spare man, standing over six feet high in his stockings, light complexion, sandy hair, and wearing a huge pair of reddish-brown whiskers. Some of the passengers joked him upon the superfluity of hair upon his face, but he replied that nature had placed it there, and although he thought proper, in accordance with modern custom, to shave off a portion of his beard, he considered it neither unmanly nor unclerical to wear whiskers. It seemed to be conceded that the clergyman had the best of the argument, and the subject was changed.
Expectation of a speedy run to New York was most sadly disappointed. The vessel appeared scarcely to move, and through long weary hours of day and night, there was not a ripple on the surface of the water. Nevertheless there was merriment on board the sloop, each voyager contributing good-humor to beguile the tediousness of time.
Friday morning came, but the calm continued. Five days from home, and no prospect of reaching New York! We may judge the appearance of the beards of the passengers. There was but one razor in the company; it was owned by my grandfather – and he refused to use it, or to suffer it to be used. “We shall all be shaved in New York,” said he.
On Saturday morning “all hands” appeared upon deck – and the sloop was becalmed opposite Sawpitts! (now Port Chester.)
This tried the patience of the passengers sadly.
“I expected to start for home to-day,” said one.
“I supposed all my combs would have been sold at auction on Wednesday, and yet here they are on board,” said another.
“I intended to have sold my hats surely this week, for I have a note to pay in New Haven on Monday,” added a third.
“I have an appointment to preach in New York this evening and to-morrow,” said the clergyman, whose huge sandy whiskers overshadowed a face now completely covered with a bright red beard a quarter of an inch long.
“Well, there is no use crying, gentlemen,” replied the captain; “it is lucky for us that we have chickens and eggs on freight, or we might have to be put upon allowance.”
After breakfast the passengers, who now began to look like barbarians, again solicited the loan of my grandfather’s razor.
“No, gentlemen,” he replied; “I insist that shaving is unhealthy and contrary to nature, and I am determined neither to shave myself nor loan my razor until we reach New York.”
Night came, and yet no wind. Sunday morning found them in the same position. Their patience was well nigh exhausted, but after breakfast a slight ripple appeared. It gradually increased, and the passengers were soon delighted in seeing the anchor weighed and the sails again set. The sloop glided finely through the water, and smiles of satisfaction forced themselves through the swamps of bristles which covered the faces of the passengers.
“What time shall we reach New York if this breeze continues?” was the anxious inquiry of half a dozen passengers.
“About two o’clock this afternoon,” replied the good-natured captain, who now felt assured that no calm would further blight his prospects.
“Alas! that will be too late to get shaved,” exclaimed several voices – “the barber shops close at twelve.”
“And I shall barely be in time to preach my afternoon sermon,” responded the red-bearded clergyman. “Mr. Taylor, do be so kind as to loan me your shaving utensils,” he continued, addressing my grandfather.
The old gentleman then went to his trunk, and unlocking it, he drew forth his razor, lather-box and strop. The passengers pressed around him, as all were now doubly anxious for a chance to shave themselves.
“Now, gentlemen,” said my grandfather, “I will be fair with you. I did not intend to lend my razor, but as we shall arrive too late for the barbers, you shall all use it. But it is evident we cannot all have time to be shaved with one razor before we reach New York, and as it would be hard for half of us to walk on shore with clean faces, and leave the rest on board waiting for their turn to shave themselves, I have hit upon a plan which I am sure you will all say is just and equitable.”
“What is it?” was the anxious inquiry.
“It is that each man shall shave one half of his face, and pass the razor over to the next, and when we are all half shaved we shall go on in rotation and shave the other half.”
They all agreed to this except the clergyman. He objected to appearing so ridiculous upon the Lord’s day, whereupon several declared that any man with such enormous reddish whiskers must necessarily always look ridiculous, and they insisted that if the clergyman used the razor at all he should shave off his whiskers.
My grandfather assented to this proposal, and said: “Now, gentlemen, as I own the razor, I will begin, and as our reverend friend is in a hurry he shall be next – but off shall come one of his whiskers on the first turn, or he positively shall not use my razor at all.”
The clergyman seeing there was no use in parleying, reluctantly agreed to the proposition.
In the course of ten minutes one side of my grandfather’s face and chin, in a straight line from the middle of his nose, was shaved as close as the back of his hand, while the other looked like a thick brush fence in a country swamp. The passengers burst into a roar of laughter in which the clergyman irresistibly joined, and my grandfather handed the razor to the clerical gentleman.
The clergyman had already well lathered one half of his face and passed the brush to the next customer. In a short time the razor had performed its work, and the clergyman was denuded of one whisker. The left side of his face was as naked as that of an infant, while from the other cheek four inches of a huge red whisker stood out in powerful contrast. Nothing more ludicrous could well be conceived. A deafening burst of laughter ensued, and the poor clergyman slunk quietly away to wait an hour until his turn should arrive to shave the other portion of his face.
The next man went through the same operation, and all the rest followed; a new laugh breaking forth as each customer handed over the razor to the next in turn. In the course of an hour and a quarter every passenger on board was half shaved. It was then proposed that all should go upon deck and take a drink before operations were commenced on the other side of their faces. When they all gathered upon the deck the scene was most ludicrous. The whole party burst again into loud merriment, each man being convulsed by the ridiculous appearance of the rest.