CHAPTER I.
LEARNING A TRADE.
THE question, What shall I do in life? is, to an industrious, ambitiousboy, desirous to make the most of himself, quite a trying one.
Thoughts of that nature were busy at the heart of John Rhines; he nowhad leisure to indulge them, as, upon his return from Elm Island, hefound that the harvesting was all secured, and the winter school notyet commenced. The whole summer had been one continued scene of hardwork and pleasurable excitement. Missing his companions, being somewhatlonesome and at a loss what to do with himself, he would take his gun,wander off in the woods, and sitting down on a log, turn the matterover in his mind. At one time he thought of going into the forest andcutting out a farm, as Ben had done; he had often talked the matterover with Charlie, who cherished similar ideas. Sometimes he thoughtof learning a trade, but could not settle upon one that suited him,for which, he conceived, he had a capacity. Again, he thought of beinga sailor; but he knew that both father and mother would be utterlyopposed to it. While thus debating with himself, that Providence, whichwe believe has much to do with human occupations, determined the wholematter in the easiest and most natural manner imaginable. John Rhines,though a noble boy to work, had never manifested any mechanical abilityor inclination whatever. If he wanted anything made, he would go overto Uncle Isaac and do some farming work for him, while he made it forhim.
It so happened, while he was thus at leisure, that his father sent himdown to the shop of Peter Brock with a crowbar, to have it forged over.(The readers of the previous volume well know that Ben, when at home,had tools made on purpose for him, which nobody else could handle.)This was Ben’s bar. Captain Rhines had determined to make two ofit, and sent it to the shop with orders to cut it in two parts, drawthem down, and steel-point them. John, having flung down the bar anddelivered the message, was going home again, when Peter said,--
“Won’t you strike for me to draw this down? It’s a big piece of iron.My apprentice, Sam Rounds, has gone home sick; besides, when I weld thesteel on, I must have somebody to take it out of the fire and hold itfor me, while I weld it.”
“I had rather do it than not, Peter. I want something to do, for I feelkind of lonesome.”
Stripping off his jacket, he caught up the big sledge, and soonrendered his friend efficient aid.
“There’s not another boy in town could swing that sledge,” said Peter.“Do you ever expect to be as stout as Ben?”
“I don’t know; I should like to be.”
“Are you done on the island?”
“Yes.”
“They say you three boys did a great summer’s work.”
“We did the best we could.”
“I know that most of the people thought it wasn’t a very goodcalculation in your brother Ben to go off and leave three boys toplan for themselves, and that there wouldn’t be much done--at any ratethat’s the way I heard them talk while they were having their horsesshod.”
“That was just what made us work. If a man hires me, and then goeshiding behind the fences, and smelling round, to see whether I am atwork or not, I don’t think much of him; but if he trusts me, putsconfidence in me, won’t I work for that man! Yes, harder than I wouldfor myself. But what did they say when they came home from husking?”
“O, the boot was on the other leg then; there never was such crops ofcorn and potatoes raised in this town before on the same ground. Hasyour father got his harvest in?”
“Yes.”
“Well, I’ve got a lot of axes to make for the logging swamp; myapprentice has got a fever; I must have some one to strike; I tried forJoe Griffin, but he’s going into the woods, and Henry too; why can’tyou help me?”
“I don’t know how.”
“All I want of you is to blow and strike; you will soon learn to strikefair; you are certainly strong enough.”
“Reckon I am. I can lift your load, and you on top of it.”
“Well, then, why can’t you help me? I’m sure I don’t know what I shalldo.”
“If father is willing, I’ll help you till school begins.”
The result was, that John, in a short time, evinced, not only a greatfondness, but also a remarkable capacity for the work, made flounderand eel-spears, clam-forks, and mended all his father’s brokenhay-forks and other tools.
John worked with Peter till school began. The day before going toschool, he went to see Charlie, as passing to and from the island inwinter was so difficult they seldom met.
To the great surprise of Charlie, Ben, and Sally, who never knew Johnto be guilty of making anything, he presented Charlie with two ironanchors for the Sea-foam, with iron stocks and rings complete, and Benwith an eel-spear and clam-fork, very neatly made.
“What neat little things they are!” said Charlie, looking at theanchors. “Where did you get them?”
“Made them,” replied John, “at Peter’s shop.”
“Why, John,” said Ben, “you’ve broken out in a bran-new place!”
John then told him that he had been at work in the blacksmith’s shop,how well he liked it, and that, after school was out, he meant to askhis father to let him learn the trade.
“John,” said Ben, “Uncle Isaac, Joe Griffin, and myself have beentalking this two years about going outside gunning. If I go, I wantto go before the menhaden are all gone; for we shall want bait, inorder that we may fish as well as gun. It is late now, and the firstnorth-easter will drive the menhaden all out of the bay.”
“I heard him and Joe talking about it the other day; they said theycalculated to go.”
“Well, tell them I’m ready at any time, and to come on, whenever theythink it is suitable.”
John and Charlie went to the shore to sail the Sea-foam,--a boat, threefeet long, rigged into a schooner,--and try the new anchors. While theywere looking at her, Charlie fell into a reverie.
“Didn’t she go across quick, that time, Charlie?”
No reply.
“Charlie, didn’t she steer herself well then?”
Still no answer.
“What are you thinking about, Charlie?”
“You see what a good wind she holds, John?”
“Yes.”
“And how well she works, just like any vessel?”
“Well, then, what is the reason we couldn’t dig out a boat big enoughto sail in, and model her just like that? These canoes are not muchbetter than hog’s troughs.”
“It would take an everlasting great log to have any room inside, exceptright in the middle.”
“We could dig her out very thin, and make her long enough to make upfor the sharp ends.”
“It would be a great idea. I should like dearly to try it.”
The boys now went to bed and talked boat till they worked themselvesinto a complete fever, and were fully determined to realize thisnovel idea; for, as is generally the case in such matters, the morethey deliberated upon and took counsel about it, the more feasible itseemed; then they considered and magnified the astonishment of Fredand Captain Rhines when they should sail over in their new craft, andfinally settled down into the belief that, if they realized their idea,it would not fall one whit short of the conception and construction ofthe Ark herself.
But the main difficulty--and it was one that seemed to threaten failureto the whole matter--was, where to obtain a log, as one of sufficientsize for that purpose would make a mast for a ship of the line, andwas too valuable, even in those days, to cut for a plaything, as itwas by no means certain that she would ever be anything more: therewere indeed trees enough, with short butts, large enough for theirpurpose, had they wanted to make a common float, or a canoe, with roundends, like a common tray; but, as they were to sharpen up the endsvessel fashion, give her quite a sharp floor, and take so much from theoutside in order to shape her, it was necessary that the tree should belong, as well as large, to be recompensed by length for the room thustaken from the inside, and leave sufficient thickness of wood to holdtogether.
Wh
ile Charlie was debating in his own mind whether to ask his fatherto permit him to cut such a tree, John, with a flash of recollectionthat sent the words from his lips with the velocity of a shell from amortar, exclaimed, jumping up on end in bed,--
“I have it now! there’s a log been lying all summer in our cove, thatcame there in the last freshet, with no mark on it, more than thirtyfeet long, and I know it’s more’n five feet through: it’s a bouncer, Itell you; but it’s hollow at the butt, and I suppose that’s what theycondemned it for; but I don’t believe the hollow runs in far. It’smine, for I picked it up and fastened it.”
“But you are going to school. You can’t help me make it; and we shouldhave such a good time. It is too bad!”
“Well, I can do this much towards it. I don’t care a great deal aboutgoing to school the first day; they won’t do much. I’ll help you tow itover, and haul it up; and if you don’t get it done before, when schoolis done, I’ll come on, help you make sugar, and finish the boat.”
“Then I won’t do any more than to dig some of it out. I won’t make theoutside till you come.”
In the morning they went over to look at it, and found the hollow onlyextended about four feet. It was afloat and fastened with a rope,just as John had secured it in the spring. They towed it home withoutattracting notice, as they considered it very important to keep thematter secret till the craft was completed.
“Then,” said Charlie, “if we should spoil the log, and don’t make aboat, there will be nobody to laugh at us.”
Putting down skids, they hauled it up on to the grass ground with theoxen, and, with a cross-cut saw, made it the right length. As all abovethe middle of the log had to be cut away, and was of no use to them,it was evident, that if they could split it in halves, the other halfwould make a canoe, clapboards, or shingles.
“This is a beautiful log,” said Charlie. “It is too bad to cut half ofit into chips. It is straight-grained and clear of knots; we will splitit.”
“Split it!” said John; “‘twould take a week!”
“No, it won’t. We can split it with powder.”
“I never thought of that.”
They bored holes in the log at intervals of three feet, filled thempart full of powder, and drove in a plug with a score cut in the sideof it. Into this they poured powder, to communicate with that in thehole. They then laid a train, and touched them all at once, when thelog flew apart in an instant, splitting as straight as the two halvesof an acorn.
“I’ll take the half you don’t want, boys,” said Ben, who, unnoticed,had watched their proceedings; “it will make splendid clapboards.”
During the winter, on half holidays, and at every leisure moment, JohnRhines was to be found at the blacksmith’s shop. At length he couldcontain himself no longer, but went to his father and asked permissionto learn the blacksmith’s trade of Peter. John anticipated a hardstruggle in obtaining his father’s consent, if indeed he obtained it atall, as there was a large farm to take care of, plenty to do at home,and enough to do with. But Captain Rhines, who had always said, if aboy would only work steadily, his own inclinations should be consultedin choice of occupation, was so rejoiced to find he didn’t want to goto sea, of which he had always been apprehensive, that he yielded thepoint at once.
“It is a good trade, John,” said he, “and always will be; but Iwouldn’t think of learning a trade of Peter.”
“Why not, father?”
“Because he’s no workman; he’s just a botcher.”
“Who shall I learn of?”
“I’ll tell you, my son; go to Portland and learn to do ship-work;there’s money in that; ship-building is going to be the great businessalong shore for many a year to come. You’ll make more money forgingfishermen’s anchors, or doing the iron-work of a vessel, in one season,than you would mending carts, shoeing old horses and oxen, makingaxes, pitchforks, and chains in three years. My old friend, CaptainStarrett, has a brother who is a capital workman, a finished mechanic,learned his trade in the old country--and his wife is a first-ratewoman; she went from this town. I’ll get you a chance there.”
Captain Rhines went to Portland in the course of the winter, andsecured an opportunity for John to begin to work the first of May.