Budd Boyd's Triumph; or, The Boy-Firm of Fox Island

by William P. Chipman

Of these hummocks, for there are but two, the northern one is much the smaller, embracing perhaps an acre of rough soil, covered with a stunted grass, and dotted here and there with red cedars. The southern one, on the other hand, covered like its smaller mate with a scanty vegetation and scattered trees, broadens out so as to nearly land-lock the cove behind it, and causes its waters to rush in or out, according to the tide, through an exceedingly contracted passage-way at its extreme southern end, popularly called "the narrows." The point of contact of the southern with the northern hummock, like the northern hummock with the main-land, is also very narrow; and to its narrowness is added another feature: it is so low, or in more technical language it is so nearly on a level with the high-water mark, that when there happens to be a strong wind from either the northeast or the southeast, the waters of the bay, on the incoming tide, will rush with great force over the slight barrier and mingle with the waters of the cove, making an island, for the time, of the larger and more southern hummock.

Perhaps half or three-quarters of a mile off shore, and a little to the northeast of these hummocks, there is an island of an irregular shape, and a few acres in extent, that bears the name of Fox Island. The name has belonged to it since Colonial days, but the reason therefor is unknown, unless at some remote period some solitary animal of that specific genus which gives the island its title may have there made its home.

This island had in later years, however, a more illustrious if not less solitary inhabitant. A gentleman of some means, tired of society, or for some reason at enmity with it, crossed over from the main-land, erected a small house, dug a well, set out trees, planted a garden, and built a wharf--in fact set up thereon a complete habitation. Not long, however, did he endure his self-imposed solitude. Scarcely were his arrangements completed when an unfortunate accident caused his death, and the island and its improvements were left to be the home of the sea-fowls or the temporary abode of some passing fisherman.

This extended description has been given here because it is essential that the reader should form some definite idea of the island and its relation to "The Hummocks," for on and about them no small portion of our young hero's summer was destined to be spent.

Mr. Benton owned what is termed "a shore privilege" on the lower half of the southern hummock, and the peculiar situation of that rocky formation to the bay made it a valuable one, for heavy winds from any eastern or southern quarter brought onto the beach there immense quantities of sea-weed, so highly prized by the farmer as a fertilizer.

During the fall and winter months previous to Budd's coming to the farm, owing to the repeated storms there had been landed on "The Hummocks" so large and unusual an amount of this weed that Mr. Benton had contented himself with simply gathering it into a huge pile on the summit thereof, above high-water mark, intending to remove it to the farm in the spring. So it fell to Budd's lot to cart from the heap to the farm as the weed was needed, and one day near the middle of May found him engaged in this work.

It was a cloudy, threatening day. The wind was from the southeast, and blew with a freshness that promised a severe storm before the day was over. Perhaps it was on this account that Mr. Benton had directed the lad to engage in this particular work. He was himself obliged to be off on business, and this was a job at which Budd could work alone, and the weather was hardly propitious for any other undertaking. So immediately after breakfast Budd yoked the oxen to the cart and started for his first load.

"There ain't over four loads more down there, an' if ye work spry ye can git it all up by nite," Mr. Benton shouted after him as he drove off.

The distance to "The Hummocks" from the farm was such that with the slow-walking oxen one load for each half-day had been regarded as a sufficient task. But Budd knew he had an early start, and he determined to do his best to bring all the weed home that day. He therefore quickened the pace of the oxen, and before nine o'clock had made his first return to the farm. Unloading with haste, he immediately started back for his second load. When he crossed from the north to the south hummock he noticed the incoming tide was nearly across the roadway, but thought little of it.

On examining the heap of weed, he became convinced that by loading heavily he could carry what remained at two loads. He therefore pitched away until in his judgment half of the heap was upon his cart. It made a tremendous load; but the oxen were stout, and bending their necks to the yoke, they at Budd's command started slowly off.