The Young Ship Builders of Elm Island 14

The Young Ship Builders of Elm Island 14

Robins are a right sociable bird, and they didn’t seem to be the least

mite disturbed by Sally’s operations, but, whenever she sang, replied

to her with all their heart. Whenever she left the tub to sprinkle

water on the linen spread out to whiten, they would light on the edge

of it and sing. More tardy in their arrival than the others, but not

less welcome, were four bobolinks. Many times in a day, Charlie would

come racing down to the brook, and say,--

 

 

“Mother, do listen to that fellow, singing on the top of that

fire-weed; don’t he go it as if it did him good? Come, mother, let’s

you and I sing;” and they would strike up, “Johnny has gone to the

Fair.”

 

When all these excitements were over, those natural impulses which can

never be suppressed for any great length of time began to assert their

claims, and Charlie’s thoughts to run in their wonted channel; his

fingers itched to be once more handling tools. He began to talk with

his father, while they were hoeing together, in respect to the best

kinds of wood for boat-building, who told him that ships’ boats were

generally built of oak, both plank and timbers, because they had to

undergo a great deal of hard usage, and were often beached with heavy

loads in them; but that he had seen a great many boats made of pine and

spruce; that they were more buoyant, would carry more, were lighter to

handle, and if kept afloat, and off the rocks, were just as good. We

would observe here, that the covering of a boat is called plank, though

it has only the thickness of a board.

 

Ben also told him that cedar was an excellent material to build boats

of; that in Bermuda he had seen vessels of thirty tons built entirely

of cedar; that it was strong enough, very durable, and would not soak

water; that a boat built altogether of cedar would live forever in a

sea, they were so buoyant, just like an egg-shell, top of everything;

you couldn’t get any water into them; and that was the wood whale boats

were built of.

 

The moment Charlie began to talk with his father on this subject, the

smouldering fire began to burn. He remembered how gloriously the West

Wind was streaking it just as she split in two; again he heard the

music of the water at her bows, and felt it rushing along under her

counter, and thought how gracefully she rose on a sea, as he put his

helm down to shake out a flaw.

 

Long before night he had decided to build a boat that could not split

in two, and also the material he would use. There were some large

straight-grained sticks of cedar on the beach, which had been cut to

put into the Ark, that would make excellent plank. As soon as he left

off work at night, he hurried through his chores, then took his axe and

went into the woods.

 

During his visits to Boston and Portland, he had spent most of his

leisure time in the ship-yards and boat-builders’ shops. During his

last visit he had seen three boats in different stages of progress. One

of them had the stem and stern-post fastened to the keel, and a couple

of floor timbers put on; another was completely timbered, and one

streak of plank, the one next to the top, put on. He asked the builder

why that one alone was put on. He said that was the binding streak,

which kept the boat in shape, and confined all the timbers, and that

now the boat might be laid by, and finished at any time, as she would

not get out of shape; that the top streak was left off in order that

the sheer (crook) of the boat might be taken out of that.

 

Although he did not even then think seriously of trying to build a

boat, or do anything more than fasten the West Wind together and secure

her with knees, yet his mechanical turn led him to measure the depth,

length, and breadth of beam of this boat, the distance apart of the

timbers, and the size of them, and to notice the manner in which they

steamed the plank to bend them. He also perceived that the transom of

a boat (square end of the stern), instead of being made of timber, and

covered like that of a vessel, was made either of one or two pieces of

plank, and fastened to the stern-post.

 

Thus he knew what material he wanted. Finding an oak, the body of which

would afford material for stern, keel, transom, and thwarts, and the

limbs make knees and breast-hooks, he cut it down, and hauled it to the

beach, intending to lash the cedar to it, and towing them both to the

mill, have them sawed to answer his purpose.

 

“I wouldn’t go to all that trouble,” said Ben. “The first rainy day

that comes, we will take them into the barn, and saw them with the

whip-saw.” (During the winter Charlie had learned to saw with it.)

He decided to build her in the barn, where were a large workshop and

bench, and he could work there rainy days.

 

He built an arch, with stones and clay mortar, near the barn, set the

small sap kettle in it, and made a steam box to steam his planks, in

order to bend them. His next operation was to haul the two halves of

the West Wind to the barn, and fasten them together. With pieces of

thin board he took the exact shape of her side in different places--in

the middle, a little forward of that, then nearly to the stem forward,

and nearly to the stern aft. These moulds reversed would answer equally

well for the other side.

 

The first rainy day, Ben helped him saw out his oak and cedar; he stuck

the cedar up to season. The next two days being too wet to hoe, he made

the keel, stem, and stern-post by that of the old boat, and put in the

deadwood.

 

The extreme ends of a boat or vessel, being too thin to admit of

timbering, are filled up by putting in knees and timber, which afford

support to both the stem and stern-post, and a place to fasten the

upright timbers that form the extremity of the bow and stern. This is

firmly bolted to the keel, and called the deadwood.

 

Taking the shape of the stern, he by this cut out his transom from

a whole piece of plank, and secured it to the stern-post. There is

quite a difference between the timbering of a vessel and a boat. The

timbers, which form what is called a frame in ship-building, reaching

from the keel to the top, are numerous, and are named floor timbers,

futtocks, top timbers, and naval timbers, or ground futtocks. The floor

timbers are placed at right angles with the keel, forming the flat

bottom or floor of a vessel, which gives her buoyancy and stability to

carry sail, and the other timbers are fastened to these, the futtocks

first, forming the curvature of the side, and the top timbers last.

But a boat has only two timbers in a frame. The boat-builder puts his

floor timbers on the keel, and fastens them there, then makes all the

rest of the frame in one piece, which he calls a naval timber, which

laps by the floor timber to the keel, is fastened to it, and forms the

side. Builders now make their timbers out of plank, which they steam

and bend to suit them. They pursued this course in England, and some

other parts of Europe, even at that period; but in this country they

used the natural crooks, branches, and roots of trees, and even to this

day, in Maine, boats are built in this way, though not by professional

builders. They use natural crooks for breast hooks, knees, and floor

timbers, and sometimes for sharp risers, and the V-shaped timbers

that form the ends, but bend all the rest. Some of them bend knees

and breast hooks by slitting the timber to let one part crowd by the

other; thus they can make the angle to suit them. And latterly, at East

Boston, a ship has been built in which all those great timbers that

make the frame and knees of a vessel were steamed and bent.

 

You must remember, young readers, that Charlie was compelled to dig

everything out as he went along. He was very differently situated from

an apprentice, who has the instructions of his master, and learns all

the rules of his art step by step. He was alone on Elm Island, thrown

entirely on his own resources, and with only such information as he had

derived from transient visits to a boat-builder’s shop.

 

He now wanted a mould for his floor timbers. As he had taken the whole

measure of the side to the keel, this gave him the rise (crook) of the

floor timbers, but he was at loss how long to make them. However, he

had now become so full of boat that nothing would stop him.

 

The Perseverance lay at anchor in the harbor, having come in for bait.

He cut out the ceiling in two places to look at her floor timbers, and

made his, as he thought, of a proportionate length.

 

He now drew two lines on the barn floor as long as the keel, and as far

apart as it was thick; then, placing his naval timber moulds against

this line, he marked out the shape and length of the floor timbers, and

made moulds for them, cut the rabbet on the keel, and at the stem and

stern, to receive the plank. He then took his moulds, and, going to the

woods, cut limbs and dug out roots to correspond to the shape of them,

and with broadaxe, saw, and draw-shave, brought them to the right shape

and dimensions, which was ten times the work it would have been to get

them out of plank sawed at the mill to the right thickness, and bend

them.

 

Fastening his timbers to the keel, and measuring the width of the West

Wind, he brought them by cross-pawls to the same width. He next took

some long, narrow strips of boards, called ribbands, and fastening

one of them to the stem, he brought it along the heads of the floor

timbers, and nailed it to the stern-post and floor timbers. He put

another along the tops of the naval timbers, and one between; then made

moulds for all the other timbers by shoving them out against these

ribbands, and shaping them by his eye. After the timbers were all in,

he carefully adjusted the tops by crossbands and shores on the outside,

till a plumb-line, dropped from the centre of one stretched from stem

to stern, struck the centre of the keel; then, by measuring from each

side to this line, he knew she was just as full on one side as the

other. He also ascertained that he could get the bevel of the timber by

the ribbands by taking off the wood wherever they bore on the edges of

the timbers.

 

As the boat sharpens, the timbers straighten, and take the form of the

letter V. As they no longer require bending, the boat-builders saw them

from straight plank, and crow-foot (notch) them to the keel, and at

the stem and stern-post, and scarf them to the deadwood; but Charlie

procured crotches, as there were plenty of them in the woods, where the

branches of trees forked, presenting the most acute angles.

 

Working a narrow plank all around the inside for the thwarts to rest

on, called a “rising,” he put them in, planing and putting a bead

on the edges, and rubbing them smooth with dog-fish skin, Charlie’s

substitute for sand-paper, although he could not knee them till the

boat was farther advanced. He now found that she was not widest

amidships, but that her greatest breadth was forward of the middle

timber. Thus, in taking a fish for his guide he had obtained what is

now ascertained to be the best proportion for speed.

 

He felt pretty nice when he had accomplished all, as he had done it by

rising as soon as it was light, working at night as long as he could

see, and on rainy days. He thought he had done the thing, and won the victory.