CHAPTER XII.
CHARLIE UNCONSCIOUSLY PREFIGURES THE FUTURE.
The hay harvest was now secured. From the additional land cleared on the island, and from the large field of natural grass on Griffin’s Island, Ben had obtained a noble crop, and also one of rye.
He had a large piece of corn planted on a burn, also potatoes, flax, and wheat. The garden was in fine order, and everything wore the appearance of plenty and comfort. The land, at the burning of which Fred Williams had so nearly met his death, he had not planted again, as he intended it for an orchard, and did not want to wear it out.
On this piece Charlie and his father now set to work. They cut all the sprouts that had come up from the stumps, cut down a good many old stubs that had been left in clearing, picked up all the brands and pieces of logs, then mowed down all the fire and pigeon weed, that had come up in quantities, and when it was dry, set it all on fire.
Ben intended, in the fall, to set out his apple trees right among the stumps and ashes, and never to plough the ground, but to keep the growth of sprouts and weeds down with the axe and scythe.
When Charlie again resumed work upon his boat, a new train of thought took possession of his mind, which, although it troubled him not a little, led eventually to very important results. It was this—that notwithstanding he had succeeded thus far, received the praises of Ben and Sally, and felt sure he should complete his boat, yet thus far he had been, and would still be, a copyist; that he had taken the model of the West Wind from a mackerel, the model of this boat from the West Wind, and that all he had originated were the trifling alterations he had made in the first model. Resolved to be something better than an imitator, he set to work, and modelled a boat from a solid block, three feet long, and entirely different from the West Wind.
“There,” said Charlie, “that is mine, at any rate; and now, if I take the shape of that with pieces of boards and imitate it, it will be my own contrivance.”
It now struck him that this was a roundabout way to build a boat, and that no person could ever get his living building boats in the way he was doing—making a model, and then taking the shape of that with pieces of boards. There must be some general principles, as there were in framing buildings.
“There’s some rule, I know,” said he, “and I’ll not strike another clip till I have done my best to find out what it is. I don’t like to work altogether by guess, and in the dark.”