The Young Ship Builders of Elm Island 16

The Young Ship Builders of Elm Island 16

The day before, little Ben had come upon a hen that had stolen her nest

in the edge of the woods, and was just beginning to sit. He came into

the house full of the matter to his mother, who, taking the hen from

the nest, put her under a tub to break her from wanting to sit. As

there was no other hen that wanted to sit, Charlie put the partridge

eggs in the same nest, and put the hen on them, as he was afraid she

would leave them if he put them in a new place: he intended to keep

watch of her, and as soon as the eggs were pipped, to take the mother

and young into the barn.

 

Whenever Charlie had a little leisure amid his numerous avocations, he

enjoyed a great deal in watching the proceedings of his large family,

commonly as they retired for the night, as he was generally about the

barn, and more at leisure then.

 

Although Charlie is now verging on early manhood, resolute to grapple

with danger, and yielding to no difficulties, yet he was peculiarly

boyish in his tastes; this tendency, in part native, had been fostered

by his isolated position, which compelled him to find enjoyment in

different sources from boys in general; his pets were his companions.

It is a great mistake to suppose that roughness is an attribute of

courage. It was Nelson who said, as he was dying, to his comrade

through whole days of bloodshed, “Kiss me, Hardy.”

 

Charlie had more moral and physical courage than Pete Clash, though he

had never lost his childish innocence. He loved to see the hens calling

their chickens together for the night, and collecting them under their

wings, to see their little heads sticking out from under their mothers’

breasts, and chirping, as though saying, “Mother, it ain’t night yet;

it ain’t time to go to bed;” or in another case, where the chickens

had outgrown their swaddling-clothes, two of them roosting on their

mother’s back. He also noticed the contrast between the hens, as they

went to roost, and the swallows, whose nests were hung to the rafters

and purlins, just above the high beams, on which they roosted. The hens

seemed inspired with the very spirit of discord the moment the hour

of retiring arrived. Madame Ebony, rejoicing in the dignity of age,

and a grandmother, was shocked that a yellow-legged, last year’s late

chick, that had not yet laid a litter of eggs, and those she had laid

not but a trifle larger than potato balls, should presume to roost next

to her, and began picking at her to drive her off the perch, while Mrs.

Yellowlegs exclaimed, “I’m a married woman! I’m as good as you are any

day in the year! I’ll call my husband!”

 

In the midst of this brawl, the white rooster, who prefers to do all

the fighting himself, flies up, and knocks them both down into the barn

floor, when every hen in the barn screams out at the top of her voice,

“Served them right!”

 

At length all is measurably quiet. A dispute commences between Mrs.

Brown and Mrs. White, in which all take sides, as to which has had the

most children. This is hardly over, and all about to compose themselves

for the night, when the old white rooster espies a younger one on the

end of the same beam, close to the eaves, and instantly calls out, “Ah,

you thought I didn’t see you! Get off that beam, you miserable upstart!”

 

“I won’t. I’ve as good right here on this beam as you have. It ain’t

any of your beam.”

 

Upon this, outraged dignity, to avenge himself, goes walking along the

beam, knocking the hens off, who, sputtering and fluttering, fly down

into the floor, where they are followed by the young upstart.

 

The pugnacious fowls have become quiet at last, except that

occasionally some aggrieved one cries in angry tones, “You crowd,”

while the other replies, “I don’t--’tis yourself.”

 

How different the swallows, who, having tarried later out of doors

than the fowls, to catch the insects that are then abundant, now

come gliding on swift and noiseless wing to their nests, through the

holes Charlie had cut for them. Here all is harmony, love, and social

affection. No bickerings, no struggle for preëminence, but, sitting

on the edge of the nest, they bid each other good night in a pleasant

twitter, and with head beneath their wing, sink to rest.

 

He also took pleasure in seeing the male swallow put flies into the

mouth of his mate, as she sat patiently upon her eggs, or watch them

feed their young on the wing. It amused him to see the ducks coming up

from the brook in Indian file.

 

As he had derived much pleasure from watching the eave-swallows as

they built their nests, he was equally interested in looking at them

after they were built and filled with birds,--their heads protruding

from the doors of their dwellings,--also the courage they displayed in

driving intruders from their premises.

 

He found they were not quite so mild in their dispositions as the

swallows that built within, and frequently engaged in contests with

them, in which they were generally the aggressors.

 

 

 

 

CHAPTER X.

 

WHERE THERE’S A WILL THERE’S A WAY.

 

 

WHEN Charlie had put his garden in order, and accomplished other

necessary things, he began again to work at his boat.

 

If he had flattered himself that his difficulties were over when the

boat was timbered out, he now found they had but commenced. It was now

time to put on the binding streak. He measured up from the keel at

the stem and stern for his sheer, and marked it on the timbers; then

marked the depth of the old boat on the midship timbers, and measured

down from these marks for the width of his top streak. He then worked a

ribband along these marks from stem to stern. Those marks, which formed

the guide for the lower edge of his top streak, also answered for the

top of his binding streak. He had made the top streak of one uniform

width, but he now perceived that the distance was so much greater

from the keel to the gunwale of the boat, over the middle than at the

ends, that he should get up at the ends before he was more than two

thirds up at the middle. He also saw that, by reason of the greater

fulness aft, the planks must be wider at the ends aft than forward. He

therefore divided them into proportionate widths to fill up; but as he

thought he had noticed that the upper streak on boats was of a uniform

width, he resolved to let that remain. He now measured down from the

ribband for his binding streak, got it out by the marks, and put it on;

but to his mortification it stuck up in the air at both ends. He could

scarcely believe his eyes. He went over his marks again. They were all

right, and yet the ends stuck up far above the marks. Had these marks

been made on a flat surface, the plank would have gone on fair. It was

the twist of the boat that threw them up. He now saw, to his cost, that

planking a boat was quite a different thing from boarding a barn. The

upper edge of the plank came all right along the marks, but the lower

edge stood away off, and the moment he crowded that down to its place,

up came the upper edge.

 

“Guess I’ve got a job before me now,” said Charlie. Foreseeing that he

should spoil many plank, and that they would be too stiff to bend and

work with as patterns, with Ben’s aid he sawed out some oak pieces

very thin, and as these were green, they would bend easily.

 

“Father, how do carpenters put plank on a vessel?”

 

“I don’t know. I never noticed.”

 

“Didn’t you put the wales and garboards on the Ark?”

 

“No; Joe Griffin and Uncle Isaac put them on, while you and I were

towing rafts to the mill.”

 

But Charlie had not the least idea of relinquishing effort, or yielding

to difficulties, however great.

 

There was one essential thing in Charlie’s favor. Timber was then worth

very little, and it didn’t matter much how many patterns he spoiled. It

was only the loss of labor in sawing the oak.

 

He now went resolutely to work.

 

“It must be done, and I can and will do it,” was Charlie’s motto.

 

After a great many trials, which produced no satisfactory results,

he at length hit upon a plan. Noticing that his plank ran up when he

brought it to, he took a board wide enough when brought to the timbers

to cover the mark for the lower edge of the streak, notwithstanding

its running up. He made his marks on the sides of the timbers where

he could see them from the inside, and then getting into the boat,

marked the distance on both edges at every timber, then struck a line

from mark to mark, leaving some wood “to come and go upon,” as the

carpenter’s phrase is. In this way, by great care, cutting and paring,

he brought his pattern to an exact fit, and got out his streaks by it,

the same pattern answering for both streaks, both sides being alike.

 

It was an everlasting sight of work, but Charlie possessed that

indispensable attribute to success, patient perseverance. Ships and

boats, in their present state of perfection, are the results of the

efforts of hand and brain for ages, each century adding its mite.

 

In boat-building, as in all mechanical employments, there are certain

rules which are taught by masters to their apprentices, having

themselves received them from others, by which hundreds of men work,

who could never have discovered them themselves. It was no marvel,

then, that this boy, though a natural mechanic, did not know how to

work plank, since, without instruction, he must begin at the bottom

and work it out himself. He put on his top streak the same way as the

others.

 

The two planks of a boat next the keel are called the garboards, and

are the most difficult to put on, as the workman there has to contend

with the peculiar twist which the planks of a boat receive at the stem

and stern, and also to fit the plank to the circular rabbet at the

ends. However, he was equal to the task. Taking a very wide, thin oak

board, he steamed it a long time, till it was as limber as a rag; then

he put the lower edge against the keel, and setting shores against it,

jammed it into the timber the whole length. He then removed one of the

end shores, so that he could take the plank off a little to see where

to mark, and began to scratch and cut.

 

When he had fitted the wood ends and the lower edge, he got inside, and

scribed along the timbers for the width of the plank. It was slow work,

but encouraged by feeling that ultimate success was only a question of

time, he persevered till his pattern fitted to a shaving. By this he

got out his two streaks, and put them on, only nailing sufficiently to

keep them in shape, as he thought he might possibly wish to make some

alteration in the width. When he had driven in the last nail, he flung

his hammer the whole length of the barn floor, and stretched himself on

the hay, completely tired.

 

“I don’t see what makes me feel so tired! I feel as tired as though I

had been lifting rocks all day, and yet I’ve only been tinkering about

this boat.”

 

Charlie had in reality been sweating his brain, and experienced the

fatigue which results from mental labor. Indeed, he was so wearied that

Sally, after blowing the horn in vain for him to come to supper, went

to look for him, and found him sound asleep on the hay. He now resolved to do no more on his boat till haying was over.