The Young Ship Builders of Elm Island 22

The Young Ship Builders of Elm Island 22

Just before noon, one day, he was strapping a dead-eye, when Joe

Griffin came into the shop. If ever anybody received a hearty welcome,

Joe did from John.

 

“How are father and mother?”

 

“First rate; they are all well at home, and on the island. Uncle Isaac

and our Henry are with me in the schooner,” replied Joe, by way of

summing up.

 

“What is Charlie doing?”

 

“O, Charlie, he’s in kingdom come; he’s put the nub on now.”

 

“Do tell; what is it?”

 

“You mustn’t mention it aboard the schooner; but he has taken moulds

from the old boat that you and he split in two, timbered out and

planked up a boat of the same size, and I’m going to get the paint to

paint her; then he’s coming out, I tell you; and here’s a letter from

him.”

 

“O, how I wish I could be there, to go with him! but the boy time, with

Charlie and me, is about over; we have got to put our bones to it now.

How is Fred Williams getting along?”

 

“First rate; has all the fish he can make, and buys a good many. So

they’ve put you behind the anvil, and set you to strapping dead-eyes.

Pretty good job for a boy who has worked no longer than you have; they

don’t set bunglers to strapping dead-eyes.”

 

It was now twelve o’clock; Mr. Starrett invited Joe to dinner, and gave

John the afternoon to spend with his friend, and they went on board

the Perseverance. John sat up half the night to make an anchor for

Charlie’s boat, to send by Joe; he also made some iron bow pins for

Uncle Isaac and Ben, and an eel spear for his father.

 

 

 

 

CHAPTER XIV.

 

VICTORY AT LAST.

 

 

THE sun had nearly reached the meridian, and the wind, due north, was

of moderate strength; the time, the last week of August.

 

Henry Griffin had concluded to stay at home for one trip, and was

fishing with Sam Hadlock, in a canoe, about three miles to the

southward of Elm Island. Tempted by the fineness of the day, a large

number of the neighbors were fishing near them. Among the rest, Uncle

Sam, Captain Rhines, and Uncle Isaac, all in Captain Rhines’s big canoe.

 

“What’s that, Hen, coming down the bay?”

 

“Whereabouts?”

 

“Why, off the sou’west pint of Elm Island.”

 

“A canoe.”

 

“It don’t look like a canoe to me.”

 

In a short time Sam said,--

 

“That’s not a canoe; she’s got two sails, and is coming down ‘wing and

wing;’ there’s no canoe round here with two sails.”

 

Henry now viewed the strange craft more narrowly as she came nearer. At

length he said,--

 

“That’s not a canoe; she’s painted, and has got a bowsprit. I know what

it is. Charlie has built another boat, and he’s showing off in her.

That’s it; I know it is. Good on his head.”

 

“I thought he’d give up after the other one split in two.”

 

“Give up! Them words ain’t in his dictionary. If you want Charlie to do

a thing, just trig the wheels, and tell him he can’t. I know that’s it,

for I’ve suspected it all along.”

 

“What made you suspect it?”

 

“A good many things. In the first place, I overheard him say to John,

when he came out of the water, the day they got spilt, ‘If I live, I’ll

build a boat that won’t split in two;’ and I know he never gives up

anything. Another thing, he and I have always been very thick: whenever

we’ve met, he has always urged me to come over to the island; but

this summer he has never asked me once. Then the last time we were at

Portland, there was some privacy going on between John and Joe, that

they didn’t mean I should know; there was a great long box that went

to Elm Island. I know there was paint in it by the smell, and it was

paint for that boat; that’s what it was, though I don’t see what it

was so long for.”

 

The strange craft was now in full view, coming down before the wind and

tide, like a race horse. There was evidently but one person in her, and

he was hidden by the sails. Presently the helmsman altered his course a

little, and jibing the mainsail, exposed himself to view.

 

“It’s Charlie,” cried Henry. “O, ain’t he a happy boy this minute?

See how straight he sits; and isn’t she a beauty? How long she is!

tremendous long!”

 

“How handsome she’s painted!” said Sam. “I wish he would come here.”

 

“He will; he’s going alongside of Captain Rhines, and then he’ll come

here.”

 

But, contrary to Henry’s opinion, Charlie kept to leeward of the whole

fleet of canoes, and stood right out to sea. He then hauled his wind,

and brought both his sails on one side, Sam said, “to show _himself_.”

 

“Yes,” was the reply; “and he’ll be coming back soon, to show what the

_boat_ can do. Here he comes, Sam,” shouted Henry.

 

After running out to sea about half a mile, Charlie hauled aft his

sheets, set his jib, and brought her on a wind.

 

“Look there, Hen! See her go right straight to windward! That jib is

what takes my eye!”

 

“How is he going to handle three sails alone, when he tacks, I should

like to know?”

 

“He’s got the jib-sheets to lead aft to where he sits. I’ve often seen

that done.”

 

“I think it’s queer that our Joe, Captain Rhines, and Uncle Isaac, who

can do anything they are a mind to, should never have built a boat, but

always went about in these dug-outs,--enough to wear a man’s life out

to pull ’em.”

 

“What in the world is he doing now, Hen? He’s hauled down his jib, and

taken in his mainsail.”

 

“He’s going to show what she’ll do under a foresail.”

 

“Look! He’s putting his helm down! If she’ll go about in this chop of a

sea, without help from an oar, under a foresail, she’ll do more than I

think she will.”

 

“There, she’s about, by jingo!”

 

“The Perseverance couldn’t beat that, Hen, and she carries sail well,

too; but then he’s got a good deal of ballast in her, by the looks.”

 

“She is so crooked, and there is so much of her out of water, that he

can carry sail hard on her. Sam, I’ll have that boat, if it costs all

I’ve earned this summer to buy her.”

 

“There goes up his mainsail and jib! He has let us see what she will

do.”

 

“Yes, he knows very well that Captain Rhines, and we, and Uncle Isaac

are watching him.”

 

“The captain will buy that boat, Hen. She’ll just take his fancy. What

a nice thing she would be for him when he wants to run over to see Ben!”

 

“No, he won’t, Sam; for we will follow Charlie home, and if money will

buy her, I’ll have her.”

 

“I don’t believe he’ll sell her, at any rate till he has shown her

round a little. I’m sure I wouldn’t if I had a boat like that. I guess

you and Captain Rhines will both have to wait till she’s an old story.

He’ll want John and Fred to have a sail in her before he sells her.”

 

Charlie soon beat up alongside Captain Rhines, then came alongside

Henry. When he was within a few yards, he hauled aft his main-sheet,

flowed his fore-sheet, hauled his jib to windward, put his tiller hard

down in the notch-board, and she lay to, just like a vessel, while he

leaned over the gunwale, and talked with Henry and Sam. When he had

shown them how she would lie to, Henry flung him a rope, and the boat

being made fast to the canoe, they had an opportunity to inspect her.

 

“Charlie, will you sell this boat?” asked Henry.

 

“I don’t know. I guess not.”

 

“Yes, you will, to me.”

 

Charlie’s taste had become somewhat chastened since he made the

Twilight and West Wind. They rejoiced in painted ports, and all

varieties of stripes and colors, but this boat was quite in contrast.

She was bright-green to the water-line, white above, with a narrow

vermilion bead on top. Inside, she was a straw-color up to the rising,

above that blue--not a lead-color, made by mixing white lead and

lampblack--but blue. The spars were white, the blades of the oars

green, the rest white.

 

“Charlie, who told you how to build this boat?”