The Young Ship-Builders of Elm Island

by Elijah Kellogg

HAPS AND MISHAPS.

It is frequently the case that trials, which are very hard to bear at the time, prove, in the end, to be the source of great and permanent benefit. The sequel will show that the wreck of the West Wind, which was so galling to Charlie and John at the moment, was, in the result, to exert a favorable influence upon their whole lives.

The spring was now well advanced, and there were so many things to occupy Charlie’s attention that boat-building was altogether out of the question. Indeed, for a time, he felt very little inclination to meddle with it, and thought he never should again. There were sea-fowl to shoot, and Charlie had now become as fond of gunning as John. The currant bushes were beginning to start, the buds on the apple, pear, and cherry trees in the garden, whose development he watched as a cat would a mouse, were beginning to swell, and early peas and potatoes were to be planted. The robins also returned, and began to repair their last year’s nests, bringing another pair with them,—their progeny of the previous summer.

Charlie was hoping and expecting that the swallows, who came in such numbers to look at the island and the barn the summer before, would again make their appearance; but, notwithstanding all these sources of interest and occupation, and though he felt at the time of his misfortune that it would be a long time, if ever, before he should again think of undertaking boat-building, it was not a fortnight before he found his thoughts running in the accustomed channel, and, as he tugged at the oars, pulling the Twilight against the wind, he could but think how much easier and pleasanter would have been the task of steering the West Wind over the billows; and he actually found himself, one day, in the sugar camp, looking at the pieces of the wreck, and considering how they might be put together; but several other subjects of absorbing interest now presented themselves in rapid succession, which effectually prevented his cogitations from taking any practical shape.

A baby, whose presence well nigh reconciled Charlie to the loss of the boat, made its appearance. He was exceedingly fond of the little ones, and was looking forward to the time when he could have the baby out doors with him.

Mrs. Hadlock had come over to stay a while, and one day undertook to put the baby in the cradle; but little Ben stoutly resisted this infringement on his rights. He fought and screamed, declaring, as plainly as gestures and attempts at language could, that the cradle was his; that he had not done with it, and would not give it up. In this emergency, Charlie bethought himself of the willow rods (sallies), which the boys had helped him peel the spring before, and determined to make the baby a cradle, which should altogether eclipse that of Sam Atkins. The rods being thoroughly dry, he soaked them in water, when they became tough and pliant. He stained part of them with the bright colors he had procured in Boston the year before, some red, others blue and green. He then wove his cradle, putting an ornamental fringe round the rim, and also a canopy over it. The bottom was of pine, but he made the rockers of mahogany that Joe Griffin had given him. When the willow was first peeled, it was white as snow, but by lying had acquired a yellowish tinge, and was somewhat soiled in working. Charlie therefore put it under an empty hogshead, and smoked it with brimstone, which removed all the yellow tinge, and the soil received from the hands, making it as white as at first. When finished, it excited the admiration of the household, none of whom, except Ben, had ever seen any willow-work before.

“Well, Charlie,” said Mrs. Hadlock, “that beats the Indians, out and out.”

“It will last a great deal longer than their work,” said he; “but I don’t think I could ever make their porcupine-work.”

Ben, Jr., appreciated the new cradle as highly as the rest, instantly clambered in, and laid claim to it, and was so outrageous, wishing to appropriate both, though he could use but one at a time, that his father gave him a sound whipping. He fled to Charlie for consolation, who, to give satisfaction all round, made him a willow chair, and dyed it all the colors of the rainbow.

Charlie now prepared to give a higher exhibition of his skill. He selected some of the best willows of small size, and made several beautiful work-baskets, of various sizes and colors. He then took some of the longest rods, of the straightest grain, and with his knife split the butt in four pieces, two or three inches in length; then took a piece of hard wood (granadilla), made sharp at one end, and with four scores in it; inserting the point in the split, he put the other end against his breast, and pushed it through the whole length of the rod, thus dividing it into four equal parts. He then put the quarters on his thigh, and with his knife shaved off the heart-wood, leaving the outside sap reduced to a thin, tough shaving, like cloth. This he made up into skeins, and kept it to wind the rims and handles of his baskets. He told them that a regular workman had a piece of bone or ivory to split the rod with, and an instrument much like a spoke-shave to shave it to a ribbon, but he made a piece of wood and a knife answer his purpose.