The Ribald Reader

By jmax young

In this first of the trilogy, Quince Melville, a plucky lad, holds the post of reader in the mills that produce the cloth along the rivers of this New England. His scurrilous adventures with the ladies of the mill and others bring both pleasure and pain and further adventures. A loyalist to King George, he encounters people, places, and points of view that start to test his loyalty to old England. An adroit opportunist, his affaires d'amour stimulate his sensual proclivity as well as his politics. In this first of three volumes, we follow Quince's transformation from bon vivant adhering to the king's wishes to a young man guided by the likes of Franklin, Adams, and others to a brave and integral part of the impending revolution.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Page Publishing, Inc.
• Release date: May 29, 2019
• ISBN: 9781644620373

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The Ribald Reader

jmax young

Copyright © 2019 jmax young

All rights reserved

First Edition

PAGE PUBLISHING, INC.

New York, NY

First originally published by Page Publishing, Inc. 2019

ISBN 978-1-64462-036-6 (Paperback)

ISBN 978-1-64462-038-0 (Hardcover)

ISBN 978-1-64462-037-3 (Digital)

Printed in the United States of America

Table of Contents

Whereas Our Hero Holds a Lofty Position

Young Melville Spies an Entanglement and a Brighter Future

An Evil Lust Conquers Young Melville

He Had a Duggan and More

An Honor Bestowed

Quince Melville’s Fame Begets a Defame

Melville Finds Another Lover

Mr. Quince Melville Makes a Somewhat Small Mark

Quince Attends a Tea Party

Melville Acquires an Undesirable Mentor

Whereas Mr. Quince Melville Discovers New Amsterdam, also Known as New York

Quince Melville Becomes James Sullivan

Mr. Sullivan, Nee Melville, Assumes Control of The Trumpet

A Mr. Benjamin Franklin Appears

Mr. Sullivan Returns to New York, for a Time

Mr. Melville, Nee Sullivan, Picks Up Weapons

Other stuff by jmax young (give or take a few)

The She Devil from Fire Island

Ribald Reader Trilogy

The Ribald Reader

The Ribald Revolutionary

The Ribald Roamer

A Stroll in the Park

Ash Street with Attitude*

Some Beech Street Business*

Cedar Streeters are Old*

Wanna Date!?*

Birdy Head Trilogy

Birdy Heads

Birdy Brains

Birds of a Further

The Great Maine Down East Revue and Medicine Show

The Prism

*A Denise Delgardo Adventure

The belief that there is only one truth and that oneself is in possession of it seems to me to be the deepest root of all evil that is in the world.

—Max Born

Ribald: Coarse, obscene, licentious* in a humorous or mocking way.

*lacking moral restraint**especially in sexual conduct.

**the ability to moderate or control one’s impulses, passions***

***a state of strong sexual desire or love****.

****a strong feeling of affection and concern for another person accompanied by sexual attraction.

Whereas Our Hero Holds a Lofty Position

T his item will bring pleasure to you.

I cleared my throat with a mighty exhale.

"A supposed godly man in the city of Boston was found to be housing three wives behind his establishment. Mr. Alonzo Wainwright was discovered with three women in his humble abode behind his very own cobbler business. Miss Purity Jones, who resides in the cottage across from Mr. Wainwright, brought her suspicions to Deacon Wolfe at the Charles Street Church. Deacon Wolfe did his duty and reported the suspicions to the constables. Constable Peterman and Constable Jefferson rousted Mr. Wainwright from his sleeping chamber after midnight where they found the sinner and the three women frolicking in the same bed.

Mr. Wainwright is currently in the stocks in front of the constable’s offices, and the three women are nowhere to be found.

Mr. Melville, a moment of your time, if you please.

The laughter from the bleaching line had brought my employer, Mr. Basil, and I knew what message he was about to repeat to me.

I do believe I cautioned you regarding what sort of item you should be reading. And I believe I insisted that no titillating articles were to be read to the workers, for obvious reasons.

Forgive me, Mr. Basil. In fact, I did use poor judgment in choosing that article as it did distract some of the workers. I assure you it will not happen again.

Yes, you see that it does not happen again!

It did occur again and again. But there were plenty of mills on the Merrimack River that needed a man who could read the most difficult passages and with a loud and clear voice. Not all mills offered such a benefit as I could provide, but many did, and I continued to find steady employment.

The Woolworth-Baxter Woolen Mill was the largest employer in the valley, and I was able to secure a position reading to the women who worked the dyeing vats. There were some men who lifted the heavy rolls of cloth and positioned them over the various colored vats. But it was the women who prepared the dyes, cleaned the vats, mixed the colors, cycled the cloth through the coloring fluids, and signaled for the men to come and do the heavier tasks.

From atop my high stool, I could look down upon the women who toiled, sweated, and soiled their clothing with colors of the postshower rainbows. Most of these young women were without husbands and perhaps were looking. From my lofty position with my unsoiled breeches, white shirt, and velveteen waistcoat, I did believe I presented a very pleasing image to them.

At my other positions, I was limited to reading from the newspapers from Boston, sometimes from New York, a day or two old. Here, my employers allowed me to read passages from books of poetry and even prose. Readings from the Bible were encouraged but not well received by these vixens!

Miss Charlene, be quick with your skirt! It is dangerously close to the cogwheel!

Shall I remove it, Mr. Quince Melville?

The tittering was not too loud. In fact, the whirring and humming of the river-driven chains, cogs, and cams made any sound difficult to hear, except, of course, for my strong baritone reading voice.

Not here, good lady!

I was pleased that she knew and uttered my name. She grabbed the hem and spun around, and I did believe I spied her calf, and it was uncovered. In fact, this working room was much louder than any other I had read within. Mr. Basil had not cautioned me about what sort of reading was acceptable, but I knew that the entertainment I offered was to pleasantly affect the workers but not distract them from their duties. Every reader knew that equation.

On the next morn, I approached Mr. Basil with quite a shocking proposal. Sadly, I had witnessed one event with my very eyes where a young woman was caught by the hem of her skirt and drawn into a set of gears. Before she could be freed, a good portion of her leg was mangled, even to the bone. This eyewitness event was corroborated by many other tales of similar horrors.

Mr. Basil, this idea may seem shocking and unseemly, but I would suggest that you and the other purveyors of the mill consider a rule that would force the female employees to shorten their skirts so as to avoid the dangers of the mechanizations.

As I expected, his eyes opened wide as did his mouth.

Mr. Melville! What you suggest is an affront to the common decency of this community!

He began to suffer from some spell, which forced him to be seated and sweat profusely from his brow.

I am truly sorry, Mr. Basil. My suggestion is one of safety and not prurient ideas.

Surely, Mr. Melville, you must consider what you suggest would bring the church councils down upon our heads!

Sir, not if it is proposed by both Messrs. Woolworth and Baxter. They would certainly see the value of a proposal that would protect our young women from the horrors that we have all seen throughout the valley!

He softened. He was able to stand, and the sweating subsided.

Return to your post. I will consider it.

It was the beginning of the first shift when I climbed to the top of my high stool.

Good morning, young women and industrious workers. The Woolworth-Baxter Woolen Mill not only pays you a much-higher salary than any other mill in the valley, but we also offer the services of myself, your personal reader!

I was obligated to make that announcement at the beginning of every one of my shifts. My shifts were Sunday to Friday with the Sabbath off. If the factory was blessed with enough cloth to dye, there were two shifts every day.

I was young, merely seventeen, and my voice was loud and resonant. My mother had sung in the low theaters in London, and I believed my father was a part actor, part singer, and part charlatan. He left my mother when I was barely a babe. My mother would not speak of such a scandal, but I believed we were sent to the Americas in lieu of debtor’s prison. A clerical mistake took us to New England instead of New South Wales on the other side of the world.

In New England, the mood of the colonies did not seem to welcome acting or singing. So my mother took up work sewing clothes. She was an able seamstress, and we settled into a routine in the township of Lawrence in the colony of Massachusetts. As my mother was from the theaters in London, she read quite well. Even as a small toddler, mother read to me as she nimbly sewed new and recovered clothing for the villagers. When I craved more reading, she took the opportunity to make me read on my own. She made big block prints of all the letters and their sounds. My brain was fertile, and I soon caught on to the science of reading and writing.

When she was able to enroll me in the most thrifty of schools, I was much more advanced in all academics than the other students. I paid dearly for that slight.

In the seventh level of a private academy in Worcester, I decided that my dear mother was paying too much for my education, and I removed myself from the school. She was disappointed, but she was also weary of the sewing that had crippled her hands. I wrapped some bread and cheese in my rucksack and followed the river and its many opportunities (you know my sins).

After disappointing many employers, I was established in Woolworth-Baxter Woolen Mill. Given an extra half day, the Sunday after the Sabbath, I was able to pay for a coach ride to Lawrence to visit my mom. She was in good spirit and welcomed me and my two pounds. She presented a hearty meal including some local wine. I exaggerated stories of my success as a reader. I did not share my dismissals from positions. She had heard of the Woolworth-Baxter Woolen Mill and took great pride in the fact that she had created me as a reader.

I slept on the floor in front of the wood fire, and the wine soothed me and opened the door to dreams. The warmth was a comfort that provided visions of summer and a fair I had attended in Lawrence where the young women danced around a maypole. In my vision, one of the more comely of the women had approached me and beckoned me to follow her to the edge of the river. At the river’s edge, she started to remove her garments. I stood in fear and awe as she loosened and dropped her skirts and underskirts to the ground. She then unbuttoned her bodice and started to unclasp the stays that supported that undergarment.

In this dream, I believed I asked her to stop such an act. Her answer was to make the most base, guttural sounds as to bewitch me. The sounds increased in intensity until I awoke and heard the sounds that were not in my dreams.

The sounds continued, and I feared for the safety of my mother. What beast had made purchase inside her cottage?

When I burst into her room, I recognized the beast. It was the coachman who had delivered me to Lawrence. My mother was on all fours without any bedclothes. The coachman was thrusting his member into my mother’s opening. I started to turn and run away, but I stopped, stricken by the scene but unable to remove myself.

Begone, you turd!

The beast hollered first. I stopped outside the bedchamber long enough to dress and gather my kit, and then I escaped the nightmare.

At the River Green Inn, I banged on the door until I roused Mr. Roundtree. He was not pleased, and the fact that I had barely a farthing pleased him even less. But he had been kind to me as a child and was even paying me a ha’penny for every night pot I would empty and clean. He relented and allowed me to sleep in front of the dying fire in the public house.

In the morning, I could not consider taking the coach out of Lawrence with the man who had taken pleasure with my very own mom. After it stopped at the inn for passengers, I set out on foot, hoping to ride with some farmer of tradesman. Luck was with me, and some kindly tradesman stopped and bade me to join him in his wagon. He brought cookware and cloth through the valley. And he rode south towards Methuen. He was a chatty fellow and regaled me with stories of his visits to new settlements in the west. We had all heard of the savages who lived in the forests and laid claim to the lands that King George had bequeathed to various noblemen.

This trader told of his friendship with these savages and his truck with them. He showed me blankets and baskets of great color and precision. These he would trade with the more wealthy citizens for silver and even gold!

We parted at a busy fork in the road, and I walked the last two miles to my room at the Sheep Stile Inn. I entered through a back entrance near the barn. It would not bode well to be discovered by my landlord as I was in arrears with my rent. Mr. Barnard’s daughter, Melanie, was a comely bar server and had interceded with her father on my behalf on other occasions when my salary was not sufficient to pay my rent in a timely manner. When I entered my room undetected, Mr. Barnard’s other daughter, Molly, who also was not as comely, was removing my bedding to be washed.

Father said not to do you bedding, Mr. Melville, as you are in arrears again.

As she said the word arrears, she half turned as if to offer her arrears.

Ah, Molly, you are such a good and kind lass. When my salary from the mill arrives, I will buy a lovely gift for you!

A ring, Mr. Melville?

A cock ring was what I considered answering, and I did believe she would not have been as shocked as she should have been.

It will be a pleasant surprise, sweet Molly.

As she passed by me with her load of linens, I acted boldly. I circled her waist with my right hand, and I pulled her close and kissed her right on her lips! And as I released my grip, I gave her big round bottom a firm slap with my left hand!

Mr. Melville, I have a notion to tell my father of your liberties!

Oh no, my sweetness! He will surely throw me out!

Then mind your manners, sir!

But she could not undo the smile on her face.

I changed into my walking clothes, though as a poor young man, all my clothes were for church, work, or walking. As I made my way down the back stairway, I was met by Mr. Barnard, who blocked the door to the grounds.

You, sir, are a varlet!

No, I protest, Mr. Barnard! My employer is late in handing me my wages. But I promise you that I will pay you as quickly as I am able. In fact, I believe I will collect my wages tomorrow! Please be patient, kind Mr. Barnard, as you have been so far!

Your dinner this evening will be whatever my cook has left after all my boarders dine.

You are too kind, sir. I will not disappoint you.

Was my charm at work, or was it the devious acts of his two daughters? I knew the cook, intimately. My meal would be grand. He snorted and returned to the public house. I left the inn and engaged in my most pleasurable activity, walking anywhere.

At times, my walks were through the villages, near and far. At other times, I walked into the wilderness, west of the confines of the townships. As the tradesman had advised me, there were still savages residing in the western lands. I carried a small knife but doubted if it would really be able to defend myself.

Today, I walked through the village that was the colony established by the mill. There were cottages and shops that were built to accommodate the workers in the mill. All the cottages looked the same, as did the shops that served the residents.

Mr. Melville! You look lost, good sir!

It was Charlene, and the image of her bare calf invaded my mind. She was standing outside of one of the cottages. She seemed to be without supervision.

I am not lost, Miss Charlene. I am a nature lover, and I merely seek out all the influence of the birds and the flowers and the squirrels and the wind making its way through the trees and the song that that wind does invoke.

Oh, Mr. Melville, your words melt my heart and my defenses. I am flustered with your charm!

Would you like to accompany me into the woods across this field? I can introduce you to the sounds and feelings of the nature that resides beyond our fences.

And she did.

In any woods, there was halfway in and halfway out. We tested that affirmation. In this wooded land, I had found a sparkling brook and a small waterfall that dropped only four feet. Yet the four feet created the sound that mesmerized any visitors. We sat beside the waterfall and played many word games until we found some common ground that led to us starting to kiss.

That kiss was a startling opening. My very essence was charged with profane desire, but I did not know how to deal with it until the kiss occurred. After that first kiss, something about my feelings and drive were released, and I followed my desires.

I blundered with trying to fondle her breasts. She demurred but quickly relented, and I was caressing and squeezing her breasts. To my great surprise, she was bold and grabbed at my manhood.

As I lay back to offer no resistance, we both heard approaching voices. We reassembled our clothing quickly and moved apart on the fallen log. Another young couple walked into the clearing and were shocked at our presence.

Hello to you good people. I assume you too want to enjoy the vision and sound that this brook offers.

Yes, good sir, we have heard of the peacefulness of this spot.

I had crossed my arms over my enlarged member. It had started to retreat upon hearing the voices, but I spied that the young woman’s clothing was somewhat disheveled, and a bright-pink nipple was protruding from her bodice! My member again became hard and then harder! I could not contain my thoughts.

Good woman, I can see that you two were coming here for the same reason that my friend and I arrived here. You have exposed a lovely breast that does not offend.

She readjusted her bodice and hid the lovely nipple.

Do not think me too bold. When he heard your voices, we were engaged in the naughtiest play as well!

To my surprise or probably not, Charlene made a suggestion.

Where did you run off to, and with this young popinjay?

He showed me a lovely waterfall, Mother. There were others there, and he was the perfect gentleman, Mother!

My dear lady, I am familiar with Charlene from the mill where I too am employed. She is a good Christian woman as she often asks that Bible verses be read by me as my role as mill reader.

Not likely.

And as Charlene walked past her mother, her mother gave her bottom a good hard slap. And that bottom was already red and raw from our dalliance with the other sporting couple.

I took my leave as Charlene’s mother chased daughter into the cottage, swinging freely at the much-worshipped bottom.

As I predicted, there was a veritable feast waiting for me in my room above the inn. The cook had not disappointed me. And it was delivered by Molly. I dared not take the sort of liberties I would take with her older sister, Melanie.

My first shift came at six in the morning. There was the Boston paper and a two-day-old New York paper along with the King James. I also had my own literature, some poems and prose from England. I climbed to the top of my stool and announced the benefit provided by the mill owners. As the women started