The Young Ship Builders of Elm Island 27

The Young Ship Builders of Elm Island 27

CHAPTER XVII.

 

CHARLIE EXPLORING THE COAST.

 

 

CHARLIE rose early one morning, intending, as Ben had gone away and

given him the day, to work on his boat; but the beauty of the morning

was such, the wind and tide just right for a sail both ways along

shore, that he felt a strong desire to go and enjoy the day on the

water.

 

“Go, Charlie,” said his mother; “you work hard enough; you’ll get the

boat done long enough before Uncle Isaac wants her.”

 

He took his gun and luncheon, and started: he kept flint, steel,

matches, and a horn of tinder in the locker of the boat, that he might

kindle a fire whenever he wished.

 

Hauling his sheets aft, he determined to run up the bay, in the middle,

and then follow the shore along on his return, look into the coves and

nooks, and when he saw a place that pleased him, land, as he had a very

limited knowledge of the coast.

 

“I won’t fish any,” said he; “for if I try to do everything in one day

I shan’t do anything. I’ll have a look round, and if anything comes in

my way, I’ll shoot it.”

 

The wind was so that he could fetch both ways: he was closer hauled

going than returning; but to offset this, it was now dead low water,

and he would have the whole strength of the flood tide. The sky was

clear, and there was just breeze enough to carry three sails without

cramping the boat or throwing any spray.

 

Charlie stretched himself on his back, and taking the tiller over his

shoulder, lazily watched the sails, occasionally casting a glance

over the bow to direct his course, till, as the bay grew narrower,

bringing the shores together, the beauty of the jutting points and

coves, with their overhanging forests,--for as yet the axe had made but

partial inroads upon the wilderness,--induced him to sit upright, and

contemplate them.

 

He was now many miles from Elm Island, in a part of the country

entirely unknown, and with land on both sides.

 

“How like a witch she sails!” said he; “what a ways I have come! and I

know by the tide I’ve not been long.”

 

He now observed, on the port side, a wide reach making into the land,

at the mouth of which were two little islands--a wild, picturesque spot.

 

“That’s a handsome place. I don’t believe but what a fresh-water river

comes in there. I mean to see.”

 

Hauling his sheets as flat as he could get them, he shot in between the

little islands; they where covered with a thick growth of spruce, that

intercepted every breath of wind; but the flood tide was running like a

mill-race, and bore him along between perpendicular precipices on each

side, that looked as though they had been one, but sundered by some

convulsion of nature, and fringed to the very edge with forest; the

spruce, tenacious of life, clung to the fissures in the faces of the

cliffs, not more than two hundred yards asunder.

 

“What a beautiful place! I mean to come here some time with John and

Fred.”

 

Gracefully the boat glided through the glassy water, till at length the

reach terminated, not in a river, as he had imagined, but in a marsh,

through which ran a creek, into which poured a large brook.

 

The shores were most beautiful, now that the tide was nearly up,

concealing the unsightly marsh, being undulating with many little

points and coves thickly timbered with oak, birch, and basswood; the

long branches of the oaks, with their broad green leaves, stretching

far over the water.

 

Though boys are not much given to sentiment, Charlie acknowledged a

transient impression of the beauty of the scene, by silently gazing

upon every object within the range of vision. Impressions thus made are

permanent, and years afterwards are recalled, and become the warp and

woof of thought.

 

Rousing himself from his momentary reverie, he put his hand into the

water: it was as warm as milk; slowly flowing in a thin wave over the

large extent of marsh heated by the sun, it had become thus warm.

 

“How different the water is here from what it is at the island, where

it comes right in from sea, cold enough to make your teeth chatter to

go into it. It’s too good a chance to lose.”

 

Over went the anchor, and off went Charlie’s clothes. After swimming

till he was tired, he reluctantly turned the bow of his boat homeward:

the wind might die; and he was afraid to lose the aid of the tide.

 

He was so embayed with lands and forests, that his progress was at

first slow, the ebb tide not having begun to run; but as the bay

widened, the tide strengthened, the wind increased, and was, withal,

more favorable than in running up; the Wings of the Morning began to

justify her high-sounding appellation, and with a wake scarce larger

than the mackerel, after which she was modelled, left point after point

rapidly astern.

 

“What a racer you are, old boat!” said Charlie, slapping his hand

affectionately on the gunwale.

 

The misery and hardships of Charlie’s early life had produced a

precocity beyond his years: constantly thrown upon his own resources,

a boy in age, he was yet a man in thought and action. As his eye

wandered over the vast area of dense forest, broken only here and there

by a clearing, where there were so few occupants for so much land, he

contrasted it with the crowded acres of his native country.

 

“What a country this is!” said he; “land and work for all. I’ll have my

little spot, and perhaps some one to make it a home for me.”

 

Charlie had now arrived at a point where, if he sought the most direct

route for home, he must keep “away” and stretch off seaward; he was

some three miles above Uncle Isaac’s point.

 

Clearings now became more frequent; framed and log houses alternated

with each other, as the means of the settlers were more or less

limited. The shore line, however, was far less picturesque and wild:

it was regular and flat, with few indentations, except some little

nooks where those settlers whose clearings abutted on the shore hauled

up their log canoes. He debated with himself whether he should keep

“away,” and run for home, or run the shore down till he came to where

he was acquainted.

 

He did not like to leave this large portion of the shore unexplored.

He hove the boat to, and standing on the head-board, looked around: he

perceived that the formation of the land changed very much,--farther

along being broken into hills and valleys,--and that the shore was

rugged and bold. The vision here was limited by a long, heavily-wooded

point, of singular shape; and no farther view of the coast could be

obtained without running off, so as to look by it.

 

“There’s a shore worth looking at. I’ll know what is beyond that point,

if I don’t get home to-night. I’ll sleep in the woods: it’s a long time

since I have done so. I wish I had brought more luncheon.”

 

The growth of hemlock, spruce, and fir was now succeeded by white

oak, sock maple, and beech: as he neared the point, he perceived that

it was very long, with rocky shores of a moderate height; but instead

of terminating in a sharp angle, or in many little jagged portions, it

bent around somewhat in the form of a sickle, though more curved at the

end. At the distance of a quarter of a mile was an island of six acres,

very long in proportion to its width; level, and covered with a growth

consisting almost entirely of canoe birch, many of them three feet in

diameter, and sixty or seventy feet in height.

 

“There must be a cove round this point,” said he. He picked the flint

of his gun, and freshened the priming. As he rounded the hook, some

coots, that were feeding under the lee of it, took wing. Though taken

by surprise, he fired and brought down one: he now sailed into a

spacious cove formed by the long point on one side, and a shorter one

on the other, facing south-west; by its position, the sweep of the

northern part of the point and an outlying island completely protected

from all winds.

 

The long point, which was more than a quarter of a mile in breadth,

with the adjacent land, sloped from a high ridge gradually to the

south-west, terminating in a spacious interval of deep, moist soil,

extending to the south-west point, which rose abruptly from the

beach,--a high, rocky bluff, covered with spruce and white oak,--while

at the very extremity a leaning pine, clinging by its massive roots to

the edge of the cliff, supported the nest of a fish-hawk. Although the

growth was very heavy, few evergreens were to be seen.

 

From the south-western edge of this sunny and sheltered valley the

ground rose abruptly into rounded hills, with valleys intervening, the

high ground covered with a noble growth of white oak.

 

Exclaiming, “I’ll not go from here this blessed night till I have seen

all there is to be seen,” after taking a hearty luncheon, he began to

explore. The level, at the water’s edge, was timbered with a mixed

growth of canoe and yellow birches, shooting up to a great height,

many of the trunks of the yellow birches having a flattened shape,

which appeared very singular to Charlie: along with these were ash,

and occasionally an enormous hemlock; there were a few round stones

scattered over the surface, covered with moss of various colors, and

clasped by the tree roots.

 

“What a splendid field this would make! Wouldn’t grass grow here, I

tell you!”--kicking up the black, rich soil with his foot. “What a

nice place to set a vessel! what splendid timber to build her of! and

it would come right down hill. What a place for a saw-pit, under the

side of that steep ledge! Anybody could build a stage there, and roll

the timber right on to it. What a place for a garden!--falls right off to the sun. O! O!”