In short, he belonged to that class of men called lucky, which was one reason why men liked to go with him. In all his going to sea, he had never lost a man overboard.
“The greatest difficulty I see,” said Ben, “is keeping the timber together, and high enough out of water to keep the sea from breaking over her; but I think I have found a way, for I have been studying upon it more than six months.”
He then told his father how he meant to build the raft, or craft, whichever it might be called, which he highly approved. In maturing his plan, Ben had fixed upon the summer as the best time in which to make the voyage, as the winds were then moderate; but his father dissented from this entirely. “In the first place,” said he, “if the winds in the summer are light, they are more likely to be ahead; and such a thing as that will not work to windward; and, if you heave her to, she will make leeway at a great rate; all her play will be before the wind, or with the wind on the quarter. October is a better month than July or August; then we always have northerly or north-west winds. We might take a norther that would shove us across the gulf. The summer is a bad time on account of the yellow fever, and men will not be so willing to go.”
“I see, father, it’s just as you say; besides, there is another thing I did not consider; we cannot get canvas to put sail enough on her to do much without a fair, or nearly fair, wind.”
“Just so, Ben.”
“There is another reason, father. The boards that are sawed this spring, having all summer to season, will be dry and light, and the craft will not be half so deep in the water, which will be a great thing.”
“I guess it will; for the most danger will be of the sea overtaking and breaking on her. In the fall of the year,” said the captain, “there will be fowls, potatoes, and other things we can carry as a venture, that will help pay expenses.”
When their deliberations became known to Mrs. Rhines, she was by no means pleased with the turn matters had taken. “I thought, Benjamin,” she said, with a reproachful look, “that after you had been gone almost all the time since we were married, you would stay at home with your family, and make my last days happy, and not go beating about at sea in your old age, when you’ve got a good home, and enough to carry you down the hill of life. I declare, I think it is a clear tempting of Providence, after you have been preserved so many years. I shouldn’t wonder if something should happen to you, and I don’t thank Ben for putting it into your head. He won’t go himself, and leave Sally, but he’ll send his old father.”
“Goodness, wife! don’t take it so serious. What’s a trip to the West Indies? just to cheat the winter, and get home to plant potatoes in the spring. I’ll bring you home a hogshead of sugar, and you can make all the preserves you like. I’ll bring you home guava jelly, and tamarinds, and pine-apple preserves; and you know you like to have such things to give to sick folks. Most all the neighborhood is sick when you have them.”
“These things are all well enough in their way,” replied his wife, while a tear stole down her cheek, “but they cannot make up for your absence; but I suppose it must be.”