Charlie Bell, The Waif of Elm Island

  CHAPTER XVIII.

  GENEROSITY AND PLUCK.

  It was two o’clock in the morning, when Sally, who had the breakfastall ready, called the boys.

  “The wind is north-west, and there will be no surf round the rocks,”said Ben, who was up to help them away.

  “You are sure you remember the marks?”

  “Yes, father; I’ve written them all down in my birch-bark book.”

  There was a moderate breeze, the fag end of a north-wester, and thecanoe, which was large, and had excellent oars, sail, and a first-ratesteering paddle, went off before it rolling and going over the waterat a great rate. They soon lost sight of the island, and saw nothingaround them but the waves sparkling in the moonbeams, and the loom ofthe land like a dim black shadow on the horizon. The boys began tofeel a kind of awe stealing over them, as the last glimpse of it fadedfrom their sight, and they found themselves rushing into the unknownwaste, for they were steering straight out to sea, without compass, orany guide other than to keep before the wind till the daylight shouldreveal to them the land astern.

  “Was you ever so far from land before, Charlie?” asked John, after theyhad run about an hour and a half.

  “No; except in a vessel, with a crew of men, and a compass.”

  “It’s great--ain’t it? to be going through the water in this wild way,and not see or hear anything but the waves. Only see how she runs whenshe gets on the top of one of these long seas; and how they come upunder the stern, and roll over, and go boo.”

  “If we should get out so far by daylight,” said Fred, “that we couldn’tsee the land, should we ever get back?”

  “We can’t get so far; it was after three before we started; the land isbut little way astern, and we can see it fifteen or twenty miles. Wecan take in sail and lie by, if we think we are getting too far.”

  “But the wind might blow so hard that we couldn’t get back.”

  “I don’t think there’s much fun without some risk; every old womanwould go to sea if there was no danger.”

  “I’m a great deal more afraid of the wind dying,” said Charlie; “itdon’t blow near so hard as it did; we may have to row.”

  They ran on about an hour longer, when Fred cried out, “It’s daybreak,I know; there is a streak in the east.”

  Gradually the light increased. John soon declared that he saw the shadeof the land, and didn’t believe they were far enough.

  “I see Elm Island,” shouted Fred.

  “So do I,” said John; “give us your book, Charlie. Luff her up; I can’tsee Birch Point at all; the island hides it; there it comes out. Luff,Charlie; I see the lone spruce; luff more yet; there, it’s on the Junkof Pork; there’s one mark, anyhow. Fred, you keep your eye on the mark,and tell Charlie how to steer, while I look for the other one. I seeSmutty Nose, but we are not far enough; I knew we wasn’t. I can’t seeOak Island at all; Smutty covers it all up. O, good wind, don’t die!don’t die! please don’t die! for the sake of the widow Yelf.”

  In about half an hour John exclaimed, “There it comes out; I see thetall oaks on the north-eastern end. Hurrah! Keep away a little; hereit is; both marks on; let the sheet fly!” he cried, flinging theanchor overboard. As it splashed in the water, the wind gave one puff,and died away to a flat calm, just as the rising sun flung its beamsdirectly in the boys’ faces.

  “Now, brother mariners,” said John, who was in high feather at thisauspicious beginning of their enterprise, “we’ve got a fishing-groundof our own, marks of our own, all written down in a birch-bark book,and can come when we like. What do you say? shall we eat now, or waittill noon?”

  “I think,” said Charlie, “we had better take a bite before we wet ourlines, for if we get the fish round we shan’t want to stop.”

  As he spoke, he pulled out a pail and jug from beneath the head-boardof the canoe,--one containing coffee, the other bread, meat, and twoapple pies, which Sally had made the evening before, of some applesUncle Isaac brought over to them.

  “Isn’t this good?” with half an apple pie in his hand. It was somethinghe didn’t have every day, and was a rich treat to him.

  “We’re exactly on the marks,” said he, as he threw his line overboard;“and it’s just the depth of water Uncle Isaac said there would--” Hedidn’t finish the sentence, but, instead, began to haul in his linewith all his might, and soon flung a large cod in the bottom of thecanoe.

  “What a handsome fellow!” said Fred; “his fins, eyes, and gills arered, and also his back.”

  “What a beauty! Good luck for the widow,” said John, as he threwanother beside it.

  By this time Fred had got his line overboard, and soon added anotherto those already caught. For hours nothing was heard but the whizzingof lines and the flapping of fish, as they were drawn from the water.Fred, who had not been so much accustomed to fishing as the others,could not help stopping often to admire the great pile of rock cod.

  They are indeed a beautiful fish when first caught, before the red huethey obtain from the kelp, among which they feed, has faded.

  In addition to their clams, the boys had an abundance of lobsters andwrinkles; they had also brought some of the smelts caught in the mouthof the brook the day before. They pounded these up, and threw them intothe water, which, as they sunk down and drifted astern, drew the fishfrom all quarters.

  “I wonder what I’ve got,” cried Fred, who was tugging at his line, andmaking awful faces, it hurt his fingers so.

  “Perhaps it’s a shark,” said John.

  “O, I hope it is! I’ll take out his backbone and make a cane of it.”

  “It may be a halibut,” said Charlie, taking hold of the line to helphim. But John, looking over the side, burst into laughter, as heexclaimed, “You’ve got the anchor!”

  “I’ve got something; it ain’t an anchor, neither,” said Charlie, andpulled up an enormous lobster.

  “How much bigger they grow off here in the deep water, than they doround the shores! I mean to eat him.”

  It was now near noon, and about low tide; the sun shone bright, thewater was glassy, and they could plainly see the bottom, which was areef of rocks covered with long kelps; the largest of which now came tothe top of the water, spreading their great red leaves over its surface.

  They had now caught a great many fish, and began to feel somewhattired. Their hands, too, were sore and parboiled from the friction ofthe line and constant soaking in the water, especially those of Johnand Fred, who did not know how to take out the hook without puttingtheir fingers into the fish’s mouth, and scratching and cutting themwith his teeth and gills. But Charlie, who was better versed in thebusiness, took out the hook with his killer--a stick made to fit thehook, and with which he knocked the fish on the head as he pulledthem in. So, while one of them fished, and threw bait to keep thefish round, the others leaned over the side of the canoe, and amusedthemselves by looking down into the clear water, and seeing the fishswimming about among the kelp, like cattle in the pasture. There weresculpins, lobsters, perch, cod, pollock, and once in a while a haddock,all living as socially together as could be. Sometimes a cusk wouldstray in among them, and a sea-nettle come drifting along just outsidethe kelp, his long feelers streaming a yard behind him.

  “Look at the muscles down there,” said Fred; “I never knew muscles grewon rocks way out in the sea; I thought they grew in the mud.”

  “These,” replied John, “are rock muscles, a much smaller kind; they arewhat the sea-ducks live on; they dive down and tear them off the rockswith their bills.”

  “What kind of a thing is that? I should like to know; there, he’s closeto that great rock.”

  “I don’t know; Charlie, come here and tell us what this is.”

  “That,” said Charlie, “is a lump-fish; he don’t belong here, on a rockcod ledge, but I suppose he’s out making calls this pleasant day.”

  “I should think he was a lump,” said John; “he’s square, both ends.”

  “They are fir
st rate to eat,” said Charlie; “let’s try and catch him,and give him to Uncle Isaac, together with that great lobster.”

  “What is the best bait for him, Charlie?”

  “I don’t know. You and Fred bait him with lobster, and I will bait himwith clams.”

  They baited their hooks, and lowering them gently into the water,watched the result. The lump, who was nearest to Charlie’s bait, swamup to it, turned it round, smelt of it, and then moved off in thedirection of the other lines.

  “He don’t like my bait,” said Charlie; “he’s coming to taste of yours.”

  But before the clumsy creature arrived at the spot, two rock coddarted at both baits, and were caught. They now all three baited withlobster, and Fred caught him. An ugly-looking, misshapen thing he was,with a black, dirty skin, like a sculpin, and called, from his lack ofproportions, a lump-fish.

  “How curious some of these fish do!” said John; “they come up to thebait, and go right away from it, as though they didn’t like it, andthen turn right about and snap it up.”

  “They do just like some folks at the store, when anybody asks them totake a dram; they say they don’t know as it’s worth while, or as theyhave any occasion, but they always take it, for all that.”

  They had now loaded the canoe as deep as they dared; it was low waterand a flat calm; the prospect was, that they would have to row theheavy-laden boat home; in that case they would need the whole of theflood tide to do it with.

  “Let’s reel up our lines,” said Charlie; “the tide has turned.”

  “Let’s wait a little while, and eat up the rest of our grub; perhapsthere will be a southerly wind.”

  After reeling up their lines, they amused themselves a while bydropping pieces of bait into the water, and seeing the fish run afterit, and try to take it away from each other. While they were eating,they saw a dark streak upon the water, about a mile off.

  “There’s the fair wind coming,” said Charlie; “now we’ll just wait forit.”

  They pulled up the anchor, and, setting the sail, continued theirrepast, while the canoe drifted along with the flood tide. With a fairwind and tide, they now made rapid progress, and Elm Island, with thehouse, was soon in full view. They were so wet with hauling in theirlines, and the wind from the sea was so damp and chilly, that they wereobliged to take turns at the oars to keep themselves warm.

  While they were thus engaged, Fred, who was steering, exclaimed, “I seea smoke in Captain Rhines’s cove.”

  “So do I,” said John, “and a blaze, too; what can that be for?”

  “I expect,” said Charlie, “Uncle Isaac is there, and has got afire--won’t that be good?--to dry our wet clothes; and won’t he laughwhen he comes to see all these fish? We couldn’t have carried fiftyweight more; she almost dips her side under every time she rolls. Keepher off a little, Fred, so that I can see by the point.”

  Fred changed the direction of the canoe, thus enabling them to lookinto the cove.

  “Why, he’s got two fires, a big and a little one; and there’s Tigealong with him.”

  “I tell you, boys,” said Fred, “I like to eat; I think half the fun ofthese times is, that things taste so good out doors. It feels so good,too, when you are wet, tired, and a little chilly, to stretch outbefore a good, roaring fire!”

  “That’s so,” replied John; “and when you make the fire of old logs andstumps, with great prongs on them, to sit and eat, and see the blaze gokrinkle krankle in and out among the roots, that go all criss-cross,and every which way.”

  “When we start off so in the night,” said Charlie, “find afishing-ground, and get lots of fish, it makes a fellow feel as thoughhe was somebody.”

  “Kind of mannish,” said John.

  “Yes, that’s what I mean.”

  As they neared the shore, they were equally astonished and delightedat what they saw. From a great pile of drift slabs, logs, and stumpsthat lay in the cove, Uncle Isaac had made two fires,--one to sit by,and the other to cook by; he had made at the small fire a crotch tohang the pot on, and placed stones to keep the fire in place underthe kettle. With his broad-axe he had made a long table and seats,of slabs. His cart stood on the beach, with the oxen chained to thewheels. In it he had brought tubs to salt the fish in, knives to split,and salt to salt them; a kettle, pork, potatoes, new cider, apples,cheese, bowls, spoons and plates, knives and forks, and some eggs toroast in the ashes. He had put the table by the big fire, and on abench beside it sat Hannah Murch, with her white apron on, knitting,and Uncle Isaac smoking his pipe, and striving to keep from laughing.

  “I hope they’ve got the table big enough,” said John; “it’s big enoughfor a dozen people. But only see Tige; just you look there, Charlie;he’s got a chip in his mouth; when he’s awful glad he always gets achip, and gives little, short barks. O, I wish he could talk! Look,Fred! here he comes; only see how fast he swims!”

  In a few moments Tige was alongside, licking John’s hands, which hereached out to him, when he swam beside them till they came to thebeach.

  “Uncle Isaac,” screamed Charlie, “I guess you’ll say something when yousee what we’ve got. O, the master lot of fish!”

  “I guess I shall,” he replied, standing up on his toes, and lookingover the boys’ heads, right into the canoe. “I shall say you have beenraal smart boys, and done a fust-rate thing. ’Tisn’t every three boysthat have pluck enough to go fifteen miles outside, and load a bigcanoe, as you have done. I make no doubt you have enjoyed yourselves.”

  “You’d better believe we have,” said Fred; “fair tide and fair windboth ways; no rowing, and no slavery of any kind.”

  “I guess,” said Hannah Murch, “you’ll enjoy yourselves better when youget that chowder, and that something else I am going to make.”

  “What else, Mrs. Murch?”

  “That’s telling.”

  “How I wish father and mother were here!” said Charlie.

  “Here they are,” was the reply; and Ben, Sally, and the widow Hadlockcame out from behind the cart.

  “This is too good,” said Charlie, hugging them both. Indeed, it was asmuch of a surprise to Ben and his wife as to the boys. Uncle Isaac,knowing that they must come to the beach, on their return from thefuneral, to take the boat, had said nothing to them of his intentions.

  Hannah Murch, who was a great friend of Sally, had entered into herhusband’s plans with all her soul, and she was not one of the kind thatdid things with a slack hand.

  “I wish my mother was here, too,” said John.

  “Here she is,” was the reply; and Mrs. Rhines and her daughters cameout from some alder bushes at the head of the cove.

  “What’s in that pot over the fire now?” said Fred, who was a dear loverof good cheer, and could eat as much as a heron.

  “Never you mind, Fred,” replied Mrs. Murch, “the pot is doing verywell; but get me those fish Isaac has just cleaned, and hand me thatthing full of potatoes. Sally, will you wash and pare the potatoes?Mrs. Rhines, won’t you be good enough to draw the tea? Girls, put thedishes on the table; you’ll find them in a tub in the cart; and thepies are there, too, and the milk and sweetening.”

  While the chowder was preparing, the men, who were workmen at thebusiness, aided by the boys, split the fish and salted them.

  “Now, John,” said Uncle Isaac, “these fish can stay in the pickle tillyou get back from the island; I’ve salted them slack, so they will notbe hard and dry; then you can take them out, put them on the flake,and dry them. I’ll come and look at them once in the while, and, whenthey are cured, you can take your steers and cart and take them to thewidow’s; she is in no hurry for them, as the neighbors have given herall she needs for the present.”

  “I think, Uncle Isaac, we all caught them, and we all ought to carrythem. If I should go alone it would look as though I had done it all.If she ain’t in any hurry for them, why can’t they stay at our housetill we go to haul her wood? and then we might dig her potatoes, andput them i
n the cellar, and she will be all fixed up for winter.”

  “That will be the best way, John.”

  They now washed out the canoe, and the day’s work was done. As the boyswere still some wet, they piled whole slabs on the fire, and lay downbefore it, waiting for supper, their wet clothes smoking in the heat.The great pot was now put in the middle of the table, and Hannah Murchfilled the bowls as fast as they were emptied, which was not seldom.

  “Don’t give Fred any more, Aunt Hannah,” said John; “he’ll killhimself, and his blood will be on your head.”

  “Shouldn’t think you need say anything,” growled Fred; “that’s thethird bowlful you’ve eaten.”

  “I don’t believe there ever was so good a chowder as this,” saidCharlie; “I never tasted anything so good in all my life.”

  After the chowder came the roasted eggs. Uncle Isaac now brought abroad, thin flat rock from the beach, which, after Hannah had washedin boiling water, he placed in the middle of the table. She then wentto the pot which had so excited Fred’s curiosity, and took from it anapple pudding, which she had made at home, and brought with her, andput it on the rock; she also brought a jug of sauce.

  “I knew,” she said to Sally, “how well you liked my apple puddings whenyou was a girl, and I mean’t you should have one. I’ve done my best; ifit ain’t good I shall be sorry.”

  If the proof of a pudding is in the eating, Mrs. Murch certainlysucceeded, for every morsel was devoured. The cheese, apples, and ciderfurnished the dessert, of which the boys freely partook, as cider wasnot mentioned in Uncle Isaac’s pledge, or even thought of. Indeed, thatwas but the germ in a thoughtful, benevolent mind, of principles thatwere to be widely extended in after years. It was found, when all weresatisfied, that a large portion of the eggs, cheese, butter, bread,pies, and milk, had not been tasted.

  “I’ll just leave these,” said Uncle Isaac, “as I go home, at the widowYelf’s; the boys, I reckon, can take care of the apples.”

  It was far into the evening before the party separated. The boyslingered after the rest were gone, declaring they had eaten so much itwas impossible for them to row over at present. They lay by the firelistening to the dip of Ben’s oars, and the rumble of Uncle Isaac’scart, till both died away in the distance.

  “What say for going in swimming?” asked John.

  “It’s too cold,” replied Fred; “who ever heard of anybody going inswimming in the night, at this time of year?”

  “I’ll stump you both to go in.”

  “I won’t take a stump from anybody,” said Charlie; “go ahead; I’llfollow.”

  John got his clothes off first, and, running in half leg deep,hesitated.

  “Is it warm?” asked Fred.

  “Splendid!” was the reply, as he soused in.

  The others followed.

  “Murder!” screamed Fred, the instant he got his head above water; “Ishould think it was splendid;” and, catching up his clothes, ran tothe fire, followed by the others, their teeth chattering in theirheads. Standing before the great fire, they put on their clothes, andwere soon as warm as ever. They now took the apples that were left,put them in the canoe, and piling a great heap of slabs on the table,set it on fire, and pulled away by the light of it, Charlie steering,and singing to them an old English song about one Parker, who was hungat the yard-arm for mutiny at the ----. It must be borne in mind thatslabs were not considered worth anything in those days, and were thrownout of the mill to go adrift, and the shores were full of them, so thatboys had plenty of material for bonfires. John had prevailed upon hismother to let Tige go with them, as the widow Hadlock said Sam mightcome over and stop nights till John came back.

  “Haven’t we had a good time to-day, Fred?” asked John, after they wereonce more in bed on Elm Island.

  “Never had such a good time in my life. I’m real glad Tige bit me, thatI got to going with you and Charlie, and you like me. I used to thinkthere couldn’t be any good time without I was in some deviltry. Thento think how good Uncle Isaac and his wife were to come down there andbring all those good things, just that we boys might have a good time!Wasn’t that apple pudding and sauce good?”

  Fred slept in the middle, and, in the fulness of his heart, he huggedfirst one and then the other of his companions.

  “It seems,” said John, “that Uncle Isaac knew what we wanted betterthan we did ourselves.”

  “What shall we do to-morrow, Charlie?”

  He received no answer; Charlie was fast asleep; and all three of themwere soon buried in those refreshing slumbers that succeed to exerciseand exposure in the open air. It was impossible that Uncle Isaac’sdealings with the boys should be kept secret, although he mentioned itto no one; and the only witness was a crow that sat on the top of aneighboring birch.

  Ben was in the house when Charles came for the auger. “What does hewant it for?” asked he.

  “I don’t know; he told me to get it.”

  Ben returned to the woods, wondering what Uncle Isaac could be going todo with the auger. But at night, before Charlie went to bed, he toldBen and his wife all that had been said and done on both sides. Benremained silent after he had told the story.

  At length Sally said, “I don’t think, myself, that boys ought todrink spirit till they are old enough to have discretion, and to makea proper use of it; but to promise _never to drink_, I never heardof such a thing. For my part, I don’t see how anybody that works,and is exposed, can get along without it; and I’m sure they can’t insickness.”

  “Yes,” replied Ben; “and by the time they come to have discretion (asUncle Isaac says), they have formed the habit, and half of them diedrunkards. Everybody can see what rum has done for poor Mr. Yelf. Howmany times I’ve heard my father and mother tell what good times theyused to have going there visiting; how well they lived; and that thehouse was full of everything! and now to think, that the week before hedied he sold his axe for rum.

  “I’ve heard Uncle Isaac, a number of times within a year, talk aboutdrinking, in what I thought a strange way, and as he never did before.I don’t believe he has done this without thinking about it a goodwhile: the promise won’t do the boys any hurt.”

  “That’s very true,” replied Sally; “for last summer, when Mr. Hanson’sbarn was raised, the York and Pettigrew boys, mere children, got holdof the spirit that was brought for the raising, and were as drunk asfools; some laughed, but mother said she thought it was an awful sight.”

  “I must needs say,” continued Ben, “when I saw old Mrs. Yelf, who hassuffered so much from liquor, and is so destitute, bring it on to treatthe mourners, and old Jonathan Smullen (who is going as fast as he canin the same way as Yelf) drink it, it kind of went against my feelings.I couldn’t help thinking that money had better have gone for food andclothing.”

  “I suppose she thought she must.”

  “That’s what makes me think the whole thing is wrong--that a poorcreature must spend her last penny to treat her friends.”