“Exactly, my boy. But it did not, so we must set to work at once and see what we can do. Now what do you say? How are we to make a boat?”
“I’ve been thinking about it a great deal, uncle,” I said, “and I was wondering whether we could not make a bark canoe like the Indians.”
“A bark canoe, eh, Nat?”
“Yes, uncle. I’ve seen a model of one, and it looks so easy.”
“Yes, my boy, these things do look easy; but the men who make them, savages though they be, work on the experience of many generations. It took hundreds of years to make a good bark canoe, Nat, and I’m afraid the first manufacturers of that useful little vessel were drowned. No, Nat, we could not make a canoe of that kind.”
“Then we must cut down a big tree and hollow it out, uncle, only it will take a long time.”
“Yes, Nat, but suppose we try the medium way. I propose that we cut down a moderately-sized tree, and hollow it out for the lower part of our boat, drive pegs all along the edge for a support, and weave in that a basket-work of cane for the sides as high as we want it.”
“But how could we make the sides watertight, uncle?” I said; “there seem to be no pine-trees here to get pitch or turpentine.”
“No, Nat, but there is a gum to be found in large quantities in the earth, if we can discover any. The Malays called it dammar, and use it largely for torches. It strikes me that we could turn it into a splendid varnish, seeing what a hard resinous substance it is. Ebo would have found some very soon, I have no doubt.”
“Then I must find some without him, uncle,” I said. “I shall go hunting for it whenever I am not busy boat-building.”