The Young Ship Builders of Elm Island 17
Perhaps some of our young readers, who have not Charlie’s mechanical
turn, may be a little weary of these details. We shall therefore tell
them, in confidence, why we have been so minute, and also why we intend
to deal a little more--that is, after haying--in these technicalities.
CHAPTER XI.
POMP’S POND.
NO matter what year we were at Andover. There was then, and I suppose
is now, in that staid old town, a certain pond, called Pomp’s Pond, in
which grew any quantity of pond lilies, and some small fish.
These lilies grew in deep water, which was black, full of sediment and
slime, and withal not very pleasant to go into. These lilies were in
great request among the theological and Phillips Academy students.
The Academy boys were also very fond of fishing there; and the only
available boat was a wherry, belonging to a man by the name of
Goldsmith, who, to keep the boys from getting her, kept her at his
house near by.
When any parties wished to hire her, he hauled her down with his oxen,
and, when their time was up, hauled her back again.
We were as fond of lilies and fishing as the next one; but the idea of
being tied down to Goldsmith did not agree at all with our notions. We
required a larger liberty, and altogether more searoom. We therefore
resolved to build a wherry of our own, to go and come when we liked,
moonlight nights and all. We had at first intended to make her large
enough to take a friend or two with us, but the difficulty that
presented itself at the outset was, where we should keep her. If we
kept her at the pond, all the Academy boys would be in her from morning
till night, and when we wanted her, they would be off in the pond, or
the oars would be lost or broken, and besides, she would be too heavy
to haul out and hide in the woods.
As a preliminary, we made a critical survey of the pond and
surroundings, when it appeared that upon one side was a quagmire,
abounding in cat-tail (cooper’s) flags, abutting on some sandy land
covered with a thick growth of pitch-pine and brush. In view of
these circumstances, we resolved to make a wherry only large enough
to contain our own person, and so light that we could carry it on
the shoulder, or, by tying the ends of our neckerchief together, and
flinging it over the stem, drag it through this flag swamp, where no
one could follow, and hide it in the woods. We had also ascertained a
fact not known to the boys--that the roots of the flag will support
one; but if you step between, down you go.
What a nice thing it would have been, then, to have had some one tell
us how to make the boat! But there was no one, and, like Charlie on
Elm Island, we were flung upon our own resources; nor was material so
plentiful with us as with him: however, we procured some apple tree
limbs, where Jacob Abbot had been trimming his orchard, for timbers,
and went into Mr. Hidden’s carpenter’s shop to build her.
I shan’t tell you how wide she was, but when we sat in the middle of
her, there was very little room between our body and the sides; and
in order to have her as light as possible, the planks were only three
sixteenths of an inch thick, and the timbers and knees in proportion.
It was necessary to keep a little ballast in, both to keep her steady,
and to put at one end when we were in the other, and which, to
economize room, consisted of some flat, thick pieces of iron. In so
narrow a craft, which it required almost the skill of a rope-dancer to
keep on her bottom, it is evident the seat must be low: it consisted of
a board laid across the bottom, with three cleats, three inches thick,
nailed across the under side, to keep it up a little from the bottom;
for though she was perfectly tight, as far as leakage was concerned,
her planks were so thin, as, after a while, to soak water, which was
at length in a great degree remedied by painting her; she was as light
as an Indian canoe of the same size, which we, at one time, thought of
making, but were prevented from want of bark.
When she was done, and a paddle made, one evening when there were
stars, but no moon, we carried her on our shoulder to the sandy ground
at the edge of the flag swamp, and dug a hole large enough to receive
her, carrying all the earth dug out, in a basket, and throwing it into
the pond; we then put her in the hole, and covered the mouth of it with
brush that had lain a long time in the woods, so that nothing appeared
to attract notice.
Great was the surprise of the visitors to the pond, the next Saturday
afternoon, to see a person in a boat, anchored, and quietly fishing.
Strenuous were the efforts of the Academy students to find where this
new craft was kept, increasing in vigor as pond-lily time drew near.
Every nook and corner of the woods was searched, and every bush peeped
under in vain.
It was equally idle to watch and see where he landed: all they knew
was, that he disappeared among the flags, and before they could make
their way through the mud and thick mat of bushes that margined that
side of the pond, the boat was no longer visible, and he would be found
sitting under a tree, or with his hands full of lilies.
Equally unsuccessful were all attempts to persuade him to let them get
into her, a very good reason for which being the certainty of their
upsetting, which the following occurrence will attest.
One sunshiny morning we were strolling with a friend, who has since
made some stir in the world, along the shores of the pond in quest of
berries. There were a great many lilies in bloom, some of which he
desired to present to a _friend_.
“Come, K., go and get your boat and pick some of those lilies.”
“I will if you’ll give me your word that you will remain here, and not
follow, to see where I take her from, or where I put her.”
“Well, I will; I’ll sit down on this rock, and won’t stir from it till
you return. Let _me_ go and get them,” he said, as we brought the
little affair to the beach.
“You can’t go in her; you’ll upset.”
“Tell me I can’t go in a boat! I was born and brought up on Cape Cod,
and have been used to boats all my life.”
“Can’t help where you were born; going in a thing like that isn’t a
matter of birthright. I have a cousin who is a watchmaker, and I used
to sleep with him, but I can’t make a watch for all that; you’d have
her bottom up in five minutes.”
“Nonsense; take my gun, and let me get the lilies.”
We took the gun and went into the woods; but it was not long before
we heard the cries of, “Help! help!” and returning to the pond, found
the surface covered with floating lilies, in the midst of which was a
broad-brimmed hat, the boat bottom up, and our Cape Cod friend clinging
to her.
Those were pleasant days, rainbow-tinted; and though more sombre hues
have since succeeded, I love to look even on the sky from which they
have faded.
There was a fine set of boys at Phillips Academy then, many of whom
have nobly justified their early promise; while others, the centre of
many loving hearts, have gone to early graves, like a leaf that falls
in June. It is sometimes hard to keep back the tears, as I recall
those bright faces, and the pleasant hours we have spent together,
especially in the Sunday school.
Gus Daniels was a splendid boy: how we all loved him! Well do I
remember when he came to the mansion-house, fresh from home, a
shrinking, diffident boy, and was set down at the breakfast-table, with
a large company of theological students, too frightened to ask for
anything, and trying to make himself as small as possible. We helped
the little fellow, endeavored to converse with and assure him, and at
dinner found him again beside us. The next Sunday morning found him in
my class in Sunday school; and, as those will who are like attempered,
we gradually grew together: how I loved him! and perceiving what was
in him, I began to stimulate and encourage him to worthy effort; he
leaped under it like a generous horse to the pressure of his rider’s
knee. Many a Phillips Academy boy and Harvard student will remember
him, who died just as he was putting on his harness. But then there was
no shadow of the sepulchre, nor taint of disease, upon him. There was
an innate attractiveness which made it pleasant even to sit in the same
room with him, though no word was spoken, and his lovable and taking
ways won every heart.
The lilies were now in full bloom, and he, with others, had resolved
upon a mighty and combined attempt to find the whereabouts of that
mysterious boat. I was made aware, while quietly fishing, of the
presence of a great number of boys on the the shore.
“Mr. K.!”
No reply.
“Mr. K.!”
“In Zanadu did Kubla Khan
A stately pleasure dome decree,
Where Alph, the sacred river, ran,
Through caverns measureless to man,
Down to a sunless sea.”
“Speak louder, Gus.”
“_Mr. K.!_”
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