The Young Ship-Builders of Elm Island

  CHAPTER XVII.

  CHARLIE EXPLORING THE COAST.

  CHARLIE rose early one morning, intending, as Ben had gone away andgiven him the day, to work on his boat; but the beauty of the morningwas such, the wind and tide just right for a sail both ways alongshore, that he felt a strong desire to go and enjoy the day on thewater.

  “Go, Charlie,” said his mother; “you work hard enough; you’ll get theboat 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 mightkindle 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 andnooks, and when he saw a place that pleased him, land, as he had a verylimited knowledge of the coast.

  “I won’t fish any,” said he; “for if I try to do everything in one dayI shan’t do anything. I’ll have a look round, and if anything comes inmy way, I’ll shoot it.”

  The wind was so that he could fetch both ways: he was closer hauledgoing 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 wasclear, and there was just breeze enough to carry three sails withoutcramping the boat or throwing any spray.

  Charlie stretched himself on his back, and taking the tiller over hisshoulder, lazily watched the sails, occasionally casting a glanceover the bow to direct his course, till, as the bay grew narrower,bringing the shores together, the beauty of the jutting points andcoves, with their overhanging forests,--for as yet the axe had made butpartial inroads upon the wilderness,--induced him to sit upright, andcontemplate them.

  He was now many miles from Elm Island, in a part of the countryentirely unknown, and with land on both sides.

  “How like a witch she sails!” said he; “what a ways I have come! and Iknow 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 rivercomes in there. I mean to see.”

  Hauling his sheets as flat as he could get them, he shot in between thelittle islands; they where covered with a thick growth of spruce, thatintercepted every breath of wind; but the flood tide was running like amill-race, and bore him along between perpendicular precipices on eachside, that looked as though they had been one, but sundered by someconvulsion of nature, and fringed to the very edge with forest; thespruce, tenacious of life, clung to the fissures in the faces of thecliffs, not more than two hundred yards asunder.

  “What a beautiful place! I mean to come here some time with John andFred.”

  Gracefully the boat glided through the glassy water, till at length thereach 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 littlepoints and coves thickly timbered with oak, birch, and basswood; thelong branches of the oaks, with their broad green leaves, stretchingfar over the water.

  Though boys are not much given to sentiment, Charlie acknowledged atransient impression of the beauty of the scene, by silently gazingupon every object within the range of vision. Impressions thus made arepermanent, and years afterwards are recalled, and become the warp andwoof of thought.

  Rousing himself from his momentary reverie, he put his hand into thewater: it was as warm as milk; slowly flowing in a thin wave over thelarge 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, whereit comes right in from sea, cold enough to make your teeth chatter togo into it. It’s too good a chance to lose.”

  Over went the anchor, and off went Charlie’s clothes. After swimmingtill 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 atfirst slow, the ebb tide not having begun to run; but as the baywidened, the tide strengthened, the wind increased, and was, withal,more favorable than in running up; the Wings of the Morning began tojustify her high-sounding appellation, and with a wake scarce largerthan the mackerel, after which she was modelled, left point after pointrapidly astern.

  “What a racer you are, old boat!” said Charlie, slapping his handaffectionately on the gunwale.

  The misery and hardships of Charlie’s early life had produced aprecocity beyond his years: constantly thrown upon his own resources,a boy in age, he was yet a man in thought and action. As his eyewandered over the vast area of dense forest, broken only here and thereby a clearing, where there were so few occupants for so much land, hecontrasted it with the crowded acres of his native country.

  “What a country this is!” said he; “land and work for all. I’ll have mylittle 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 directroute for home, he must keep “away” and stretch off seaward; he wassome three miles above Uncle Isaac’s point.

  Clearings now became more frequent; framed and log houses alternatedwith each other, as the means of the settlers were more or lesslimited. The shore line, however, was far less picturesque and wild:it was regular and flat, with few indentations, except some littlenooks where those settlers whose clearings abutted on the shore hauledup 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 wherehe 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: heperceived that the formation of the land changed very much,--fartheralong being broken into hills and valleys,--and that the shore wasrugged and bold. The vision here was limited by a long, heavily-woodedpoint, of singular shape; and no farther view of the coast could beobtained 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 timesince I have done so. I wish I had brought more luncheon.”

  The growth of hemlock, spruce, and fir was now succeeded by whiteoak, sock maple, and beech: as he neared the point, he perceived thatit was very long, with rocky shores of a moderate height; but insteadof terminating in a sharp angle, or in many little jagged portions, itbent around somewhat in the form of a sickle, though more curved at theend. 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 growthconsisting almost entirely of canoe birch, many of them three feet indiameter, and sixty or seventy feet in height.

  “There must be a cove round this point,” said he. He picked the flintof his gun, and freshened the priming. As he rounded the hook, somecoots, that were feeding under the lee of it, took wing. Though takenby surprise, he fired and brought down one: he now sailed into aspacious cove formed by the long point on one side, and a shorter oneon the other, facing south-west; by its position, the sweep of thenorthern part of the point and an outlying island completely protectedfrom 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 thesouth-west, terminating in a spacious interval of deep, moist soil,extending to the south-west point, which rose abruptly from thebeach,--a high, rocky bluff, covered with spruce and white oak,--whileat the very extremity a leaning pine, clinging by its massive roots tothe edge of the cliff, supported the nest of a fish-hawk. Although thegrowth was very heavy, few evergreens were to be seen.

  From the south-western edge of this sunny and sheltered valley theground rose abruptly int
o rounded hills, with valleys intervening, thehigh ground covered with a noble growth of white oak.

  Exclaiming, “I’ll not go from here this blessed night till I have seenall there is to be seen,” after taking a hearty luncheon, he began toexplore. The level, at the water’s edge, was timbered with a mixedgrowth 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 stonesscattered over the surface, covered with moss of various colors, andclasped by the tree roots.

  “What a splendid field this would make! Wouldn’t grass grow here, Itell you!”--kicking up the black, rich soil with his foot. “What anice place to set a vessel! what splendid timber to build her of! andit would come right down hill. What a place for a saw-pit, under theside of that steep ledge! Anybody could build a stage there, and rollthe timber right on to it. What a place for a garden!--falls right offto the sun. O! O!”

  As he ascended the slope, great long beeches, and once in a while aNorway pine, shot up skyward, with scarcely a limb except at the top,where every fork boasted the nest of a great blue heron.

  “How are you, old acquaintance?” said Charlie, as they flew over hishead; “reckon we’ve met before, or some of your relations.”

  He now came to a place where the ledge occasionally cropped out, andthe beech and pine gave place to a growth of sugar maple.

  “What a chance to make sugar!--build the camp at the bottom of thehill, and haul the sap down. Wouldn’t apple trees grow here! you betterbelieve it!”

  His attention was now arrested by the sound of running water. Turningaround, he came upon a broad, deep brook, with water of a reddishtinge, running very swiftly, leaping over logs half imbedded in thesoil, till, with a broad mouth, bordered by enormous basswood trees,composed, as is often the habit of that tree, of many trunks springingfrom a common root, it met the sea at the base of the cliffs of thesouth-western point.

  “How handsome these trees must look in blossom! and the water is deepenough at high tide to sail right into the mouth of this brook, andunder the trees: won’t I do it some time?”

  He now perceived, at a distance, something glancing white through themass of foliage.

  “I’ll see what that is when I come back. I want to see what is on theheight of land.”

  Proceeding up the ascent, he beheld a level surface of apparently alight loam.

  “Here,” said he, “is some black wood, at least.” There were clumps oflarge white pines and spruce, with red oak, but no continuous growthof pine, as on Elm Island. “Here is corn, grain, and potato land. Whata splendid farm this would make! so many kinds of land, and no wasteland.”

  Going farther, he again came upon the brook.

  “I shall get lost. I’ll follow the brook, and see what that white thingwas.”

  Looking through the trees into a broad opening, he saw a bear with twocubs, picking blueberries.

  “I’ve nothing but small shot in my gun: if you’ll let me alone, I’lllet you alone;” and he passed on.

  The brook led him to a rocky ridge, through a chasm, in which the brookflung itself over bowlders large and small, old logs, and over andunder great tree roots, that ran and twisted in among them from bank tobank.

  It was the white foam of this waterfall Charlie had caught glimpses ofthrough the foliage.

  “There’s a brook for you,” said he; “it’s another kind from our brook:that’s a quiet, cosy little brook; but this is a tearing fellow. What achance for a dam in that gap! ’twould cost next to nothing to build it,and there’s water enough to carry a saw mill, spring and fall.”

  Following the course of the brook, which from the point of the fallto the mouth was very devious, he at length came to a place whereit almost returned upon itself, forming a little tongue, with abeautifully rounded extremity, entirely bare of underbrush, and coveredwith a thick mat of grass. Near the end stood a magnificent elm, theonly one Charlie had as yet noticed. Its trunk was begirt with thatnetwork of foliage formed by the interlacing of many small twigs andgreen leaves, which often, in its natural state, impart such singularbeauty to that noble tree. Among these meshes the wild ivy crept andtwined, half imbedded in the cork-like bark. Far above the roots, twoenormous branches diverged from the trunk, and nearly at right angleswith it; after running some distance in that direction, curved upward,separating at a great height, the one into three, the other into fivebranches, and there again subdividing, together with those of the maintrunk and others springing from the surface of the side branches,terminated in a vast tracery of pendent foliage, covering the wholeof the little promontory with their shadow, and almost touching thebrook that washed its shores. As Charlie burst from the gloom of thethick forest upon this sweet spot and this lordly tree, among whosebroad masses of foliage the rays of the declining sun seemed to love tolinger, he paused in mute admiration. At length he approached the greattree, and standing on tiptoe, managed to barely reach the extremity ofa twig, and drew down the limb: he then stepped back and looked uponthe tree, and noted every feature of the landscape.

  “Was there ever so beautiful a spot as this!” he said at length. “Imust have a piece of this land. I never can like any other place,except Elm Island, after this. I wonder who it belongs to. Here’severything--timber, water, good land, I know by the growth, and O, howbeautiful! Fish in the brook too: there’s no fish in our brook, onlythe smelts and frost-fish that come from the salt water.”

  Heated and weary, he sat down between the spur roots of the great tree,and looked up between the boughs, watching the play of the sunlightquivering among the leaves, and espied two hangbirds’ (orioles) nestspendent from the branches.

  “You’ve been stealing the tow from my grafts, I guess, you rogues,”noticing the material of which the nests were made.

  Returning to the shore, he found the tide was out, and had left aconsiderable extent of smooth, gravelly beach. He walked down to thewater’s edge; the clams were spouting all around him.

  “A bold shore and plenty of clams: it’s a great thing to have clams;we’ve often found it so on the island. If I had an axe to cut logs andbuild a big fire, I’d sleep here to-night; but I haven’t,and that shebear, or some wolf; might pay his respects to me in the night. I’lltell Uncle Isaac about that bear, and we’ll have her, cubs and all.”

  He now picked up some dead wood, and making a fire, cooked his coot,took a drink of water from the brook, anchored the boat in the middleof the cove, and wrapping himself in the sails, was soon fast asleep.

  With the break of day he weighed anchor, and made sail for UncleIsaac’s. He arrived there just as they were eating breakfast.

  “You’ve come in a good time, Charlie; sit down with us.”

  No sooner was appetite appeased than he described the place he had beenso much delighted with, to Uncle Isaac, and told him all about it, andalso about the island; what large birches there were on it; that he sawa cove in one end of it, as he passed, that wound around as it went in.

  “That cove,” said Uncle Isaac, “is the safest little harbor that canbe: no sea can get in there, the mouth is so narrow, and it is socrooked. The bark on my birch came from that island, and better landnever lay out doors.”

  “Who owns it?”

  “Nobody.”

  “Nobody?”

  “No. I suppose it belongs to the state; but it don’t belong to anyindividual. We don’t think anything here of a little thing like that.”

  “Could I buy it?”

  “Yes, you could buy it of the state, and then you would get a deed ofit; but if you should go on there, clear a spot, plant it, and keephold of it, nobody would ever consarn with you, and after a while youwould hold it by possession.”

  “Is there any name to it?”

  “Not as ever I knew.”

  “How do you distinguish it?”

  “Some call it Birch Islan
d, and some Indian Island, because the Indiansused to make canoes there.”

  Charlie told him about the bear.

  “Shall I get Fred, and you go with us, and kill her?”

  “No, Charlie; she’s nursing her cubs, and is poor now; let her alonetill my corn is in the milk; she’ll be getting into that; be fat then,and the cubs worth something, and we will get the whole of them. I’llkeep track of her. How do your partridges come on?”

  “First rate; before they hatched I cut away the bushes, and built atight fence around the hen, and when I go there, they run right underher.”

  “You may keep them this summer, and next winter; but you’ll lose themin the spring, unless you put them in a cage.”

  “How can that be? I let them out the other day, and they followed thehen, and acted just like any other chickens.”

  “Because that wild nature is born in ’em; you may take an Indian boyand send him to school; but when he’s grown, he’ll take to the wigwamagain. I tell you, when the partridges begin to drum next spring, lookout.”

  “What is the name of this place where I slept last night?”

  “It has no name; it’s wild land, wilderness: didn’t you see a bearthere?”

  “Yes, sir; and I heard wolves howl in the night; but is there not somename to tell it by?”

  “There’s a number to the range,--I forget what it is,--and we call thecove Pleasant Cove.”

  “That’s a first-rate name: what made them call it that?”

  “Because it is such a nice harbor, and a sheltered, sunny spot; peoplein the winter time, bitter cold weather, pulling up the bay in a canoe,get under the lee of that long p’int, and then go into the cove, andare safe.”

  “Does anybody own that?”

  “Yes, there’s a man in Salem owns twelve hundred and eighty acres, andthat is part of it.”

  “Would he sell it?”

  “I suppose so. He has sold a good deal.”

  “What would he ask an acre for that part of it?”

  “There are no masts or spars on it of any great amount. It’s settlingland--hard wood growth. It ought not to bring more than fifteen centsan acre; but he don’t care whether he sells or not, and might askfifty.”

  “Do you know him?”

  “Yes, indeed; known him this twenty years. He stopped at my house whenhe bought that land, and three times as much more. I carried the chainfor Squire Eveleth when he run it out.”

  “Uncle Isaac, I want a piece of land. You don’t know how much I’vethought about it! None of my folks ever owned an inch of land. Nightand day I have thought and dreamed about it, and I want _that_, and noother in this world. The moment I came round the point into the cove,and saw the sun shining on the trees, something said to me, That’s yourhome.”

  “I know what that feeling is, and all about it; and if you feel thatway, you’ll never be worth a cent, or be contented in any other spot.There’s something comes out of the soil you love that puts thestrength into your arm, and the courage into your heart.”

  “But how shall I get it?”

  “Buy it. You’ve got money enough, when Fred pays you, to buy enough fora farm, and more too.”

  “But before that, some one that has got money to pay down might see it,like it just as well as I have, and buy it right off; perhaps it’s soldnow.”

  “No, it ain’t. People are not so fond of going on to wild land. Theyhad rather buy land that has been partly cleared. I’ll write to Mr.Pickering, and get the price, and the refusal of it, and I’ll buy itfor you. When you get your money from Fred, you can pay me. You’ll haveenough from your boats, probably, to buy two hundred acres; and when wehear from him, I’ll go over it with you. There’s a heavy growth of pineback from the shore: I should want that; and there’s a pond, that thebrook is an outlet of: I should want command of that water. The brookis a mill privilege. Boards will be worth something by and by; not inmy day, perhaps, but you are young, and can afford to wait.”

  “Then there’s bears on it, Uncle Isaac. It is worth a good deal morefor that.”

  “Most people wouldn’t consider that any privilege.”

  “O, I should!”

  “But the thing that toles the bears there, and makes them like it, is aprivilege.”

  “What is that?”

  “Acorns. There’s a master sight of acorns and beech-nuts on the wholeof that range along the shore, and hog-brakes in the swales. Hogs canget their living in the woods, and, by clamming on the beach, all thesummer and fall.”

  “Won’t the bears kill ’em?”

  “Once in a while one; but then you can kill the bear, and he’ll beworth as much as the hog. I would rather have ten bears round than onewolf.”

  “You know, Charlie,” said Hannah Murch, “bear’s grease is good to makeboys limber to wrestle. If you had served my bed-clothes as you didSally’s, I don’t know what I should have done to you.”

  “I would have spoilt all the beds in the house for the sake of throwingHenry Griffin.”

  “It appears to me you are beginning in good season to get a farm. Youare not going to housekeeping?”

  “The sooner the better,” said Uncle Isaac. “When a rat gets a hole, hecarries everything to it.”

  “No, Mrs. Murch, nothing of that kind; but I do want a piece of thesoil that I can walk over and call my own, and have crops of my own,that nobody can take from me. I love to work with tools; but I love theearth that God made, and the woods. I love that spot, and am afraidI shall lose it if I don’t get it now. If I can only know it’s mine,that’s enough. Mrs. Murch, I think there’s something substantial aboutthe earth.”

  “So there is, Charlie; and when you’ve got the land, you’ve somethingunder your feet, and it can lay there till you want it. There will beno taxes of any amount till there’s a road made through it.”

  “Hannah,” said Uncle Isaac, “the Bounty is loading with bark and woodfor Salem, in Wilson’s Cove. I’ll send my letter by her.”

  “And I,” said Charlie, “must go home.”