“Yes, somewhat; but they do not have to be so particular, except at the fore and after woods: they line them as crooked as they can, and then jam them down edgewise with wedges; and you can’t do that with boat plank, but must cut to a sixteenth of an inch, if you want your work to look well.”
“You are very good, Joe; now all my difficulties are over; but I’m glad you didn’t come before.”
“Why so?”
“Because, if you had shown me about the dead rise, I shouldn’t have found it out myself. Joe, I’ll tell you what I’m going to do, if I get this boat off.”
“And she don’t split in two, you mean.”
“If she works well, I’m going to make one out of my own head, without any model to work from.”
“I tell you what it is, Charlie: there will be some staring when you appear out in this craft.”
“I guess there will; they all think what happened to the West Wind sickened and discouraged me; but I reckon they’ll find out to the contrary. I do hope that neither Uncle Isaac, nor Fred, your Hen, Captain Rhines, nor any of them, will find it out till I come out. Don’t tell; will you, Joe?”
“You will soon finish her now; you can take a spruce pole, split it in two with a saw, and it will make a grand gunwale: that’s what they use in Nova Scotia.”
“A spruce pole! I guess I shall. I’ll have a nice piece of oak, planed and rubbed with dog-fish skin. Do you know what I want to do, Joe?”