Lion Ben of Elm Island

by Elijah Kellogg

  CHAPTER I.

  ELM ISLAND.

  In one of the most beautiful of the many romantic spots on the ruggedcoast of Eastern Maine lived Captain Ben Rhines. The country was justemerging from the terrible struggle of the revolution, and the easternpart of the state had settled very slowly. The older portion of theinhabitants, now living in frame houses, had been born and passed theirchildhood in log camps.

  Captain Rhines’s house stood at the head of a little cove, on thewestern side of a large bay, formed by a sweep in the main shore on theone side, and a point on the other, called (from the name of its owner,Isaac Murch) “Uncle Isaac’s Point.”

  A small stream, that carried a saw and grist mill, found an outlet atthe head of it, while the milldam served the inhabitants for a bridge.A number of islands were scattered over the surface of the bay, someof them containing hundreds of acres; others, a mere patch of rock andturf, fringed with the white foam of the breakers.

  At a distance of six miles, broad off at sea, in a north-westerlydirection, lay an island, called Elm Island, deriving its name from thegreat numbers of that tree which grew on its southern end.

  As we shall have a great deal to do with this island, it is necessaryto be particular in the description of it. It was about three milesin length, rocks and all, by two in width, running north-east andsouth-west, and parallel to the main land. From the eastern side,Captain Rhines’s house and the whole extent of the bay, and UncleIsaac’s Point, were visible. Nature seemed to have lavished her skillupon this secluded spot.

  The island was formed by two ridges of rock forming the line of theshore, the intervening valley dividing the island nearly in the middle.These ridges sloped gradually, on their inner sides, into fertileswales of deep, strong soil. The shores were perpendicular, droppingplump down into the ocean, being in some places forty feet above thelevel of the water. They were rent and seamed by the frost and waves;and, in the crevices of the rocks, the spruce and birch trees thrusttheir roots, and, clinging to the face of the cliff, struggled for lifewith waves and tempests.

  The island would have been well nigh inaccessible, had not natureprovided on the south-western end a most remarkable harbor. The lineof perpendicular cliffs on the north-west ran the whole length ofthe island, against which, even in calm weather, the ground-swellof the ocean eternally beat. The westerly ridge, which was coveredwith soil of a moderate depth, gradually sloped as it approached thesouth-western end, till it terminated in a broad space occupying thewhole width between the outer cliffs, and gradually sloping to thewater’s edge. This portion of the island was bare of wood, and coveredwith green grass. The eastern ridge terminated in a long, broad point,covered with a growth of spruce trees, so dense that not a breath ofwind could get through them, and, curving around, formed a beautifulcove, whose precipitous sides broke off the easterly sea and gales.

  Into the head of this cove poured a brook, which, like a little boy,had a very small beginning. It came out from beneath the roots of twoyellow birch trees that grew side by side in a little stream not morethan two inches deep. As it ran on, it was joined by two other springs,that came out from the westerly ridge. The waters of these springs,together with the rains which slowly filtered through the forest, madequite a brook, which was never dry in the hottest weather.

  At certain periods of the year the frost-fish and the smelts came upfrom the sea into the mouth of this brook. The cove, also, was full offlounders and minnows, eels and lobsters, and abounded in clams. Thefish attracted the fish-hawks and herons, who filled the woods withtheir notes. Sometimes there would be ten blue herons’ nests on onegreat beech. The fish-hawks attracted the eagles, who obtained theirprincipal living by robbing the fish-hawks. The wild geese, coots,whistlers, brants, and sea-ducks also came there to drink. This wasnot the natural habitat of the large blue heron, their food not beingfound there to any great extent, as the shores were too bold, and thewaters too deep; their favorite feeding grounds are the broad shallowcoves, where they can wade into the water with their long legs, andcatch little fish as they come up on the flood tide; but they preferto go after their food, rather than abandon this secluded spot, wherethey are secure from all enemies, and where the tall trees affordedthese shy birds such advantages for building their nests. As for thefish-hawks, who dive and take their food from the water, it was justthe place for them.

  There was also on the eastern side of the western ridge a swamp, amost solitary place, so thickly timbered with enormous hemlocks andfirs, mixed with white cedar, that it was almost as dark as twilightat noonday. Here dwelt an innumerable multitude of herons, where theyhad bred undisturbed for ages. Much smaller than the great blue heron,they built their nests in the low firs and cedars; and as they fed uponfrogs, grasshoppers, mice, tadpoles, and minnows, they were not obligedto leave the island for their food: they were perfectly at home andhappy.

  They belonged to that species called, by naturalists, _ardeanycticorax_. The inhabitants called them squawks and flying foxes,from the noise they made. Like all the heron tribe, they are extremelyquick of hearing, and feed mostly in the morning and evening twilight,half asleep through the day among the branches of the firs, standingon one leg. They make shallow nests of sticks, and lay three or fourgreen eggs. You may walk through their haunts: all is still as death,apparently not a heron on the island, while thousands of them areright over your head, and all around you, listening to every step youtake, the slightest noise of which they will hear, when you do notnotice it yourself. Crack goes a dry stick under your foot; you catchyour toe under a spruce root, and tumble down; instantly the intensestillness of the woods is broken by a flapping of wings and rustling ofbranches, succeeded by quaw, quaw, squawk, squawk, producing a chorusalmost deafening. The sound they emit, which is a union of growl, bark,and scream, comes from their throat with such suddenness, breaking uponthe deep silence of the woods, like the whirr of the partridge, thatit will make you jump, though you are prepared for it and accustomedto it. Then you will see them, after flying to a safe distance, lighton the tips of the fir limbs, holding themselves up with their wingson the bending branch, like a bobolink on a spear of herds-grass, fromwhich they will in an instant crawl down into the middle of the tree,sitting close to the trunk, where it is impossible to see them. Youmust therefore shoot them when they are on the wing, or at the momentthey light.

  They will bear a great deal of killing, and even make believe dead. Iknew a boy once who shot four squawks, and after beating them with aniron ramrod, left them tied up in his pocket-handkerchief at the footof a tree while he was clambering up after eggs: when he came down, twoof them had crawled out of the handkerchief and run away. They willshow fight, too, when they are wounded, bite and thrust with theirbill, and scratch terribly with their claws. As if to compensate forthe horrible noise they make, the full-grown male is a very handsomebird. The top of the head and back are green, the eyes a bright,flashing red, and just above them a little patch of pure white. Thebill is black, the wings are light blue, the back part and sides ofthe neck lilac, shading on the front and breast to a cream color, andthe legs yellow. From the back part of the head depend three feathers,white as snow and extremely delicate, rolled together, and as long asthe neck.

  The mouth of the little brook of which we have spoken was a very busyplace when the fish-hawks were fishing, or carrying sticks to buildtheir nests, and screaming with all their might, the herons fishing forminnows, squawks catching frogs, the wild geese making their peculiarnoise, the sea-fowl diving, the ducks quacking, and the fish jumpingfrom the water in schools. It shows how God provides for all hiscreatures, for though there are thousands of these islands scatteredalong the coast of Maine, on the smallest of them, and some that aremere rocks, you will find springs of living water.

  On this island was a spring, that whenever the tide was in was six feetunder water; but when the tide ebbed, there was the spring bubbling upin the white sand, as good fresh water as was ever drank.

  Old Skipper Brown
said he knew the time when it was a rod up the bank;that when he used to go fishing with his father, he had filled many ajug with water out of it; but the frost and the sea had undermined thebank and washed it away, till the tide came to flow over it.

  There is another thing in relation to this little harbor, of greatimportance; for though the high rocks and the thick wood sheltered thelittle cove from all but the south and south-west winds, yet it wouldhave been (at any rate the mouth of it) very much exposed to the wholesweep of the Atlantic waves in southerly gales; and though the cove wasso winding that a vessel in the head of it could not be hurt by thesea, yet it would have been very hard going in, and impossible to getout in bad weather, had it not been for a provision of nature, of whichI shall now speak, consisting of some ragged and outlying rocks.

  One of these was called the White Bull, deriving its name from thepeculiar hoarse roar which the sea made as it broke upon it, and alsothe white cliffs of which it was composed. It was a long graniteledge, perpendicular on the inside, and far above the reach of thehighest waves. On the seaward side it ran off into irregular brokenreefs, covered with kelp, the home of the rock cod and lobster, andthe favorite resort of all the diving sea-fowl, who fed on the weedsgrowing on the bottom.

  In the centre of these reefs was a large cove. Between this rock andthe eastern point of the island was another, of similar shape, butsmaller dimensions, called the Little Bull: they were connected by areef running beneath the water, against which the sea broke, in storms,with great fury; and even in calm weather, from the ground swell of theocean, it was white with the foaming breakers.

  On the western side was a long, high, narrow island, called, from itsshape, the “Junk of Pork,” with deep water all around it, and coveredwith grass. The two ends of this island lapped by the western pointof the White Bull and the western point of the main island, thuspresenting a complete barrier against the sea. The whole space betweenthe main land and these outlying rocks and islands was a beautifulharbor, the bottom of which was clay, and sand on top, thus affordingan excellent hold to anchors.

  There were two passages to go in and out, according as the wind mighthappen to be, with deep water close to the rocks. This harbor was afavorite resort of the fishermen, who came here to dig clams in thecove, and catch menhaden and herring for bait; they also stopped herein the afternoons to get water, and make a fire on the rocks, andtake a cup of tea, before they went out to fish all night for hake;they also resorted to it in the morning to dress their fish and makea chowder, and lie under the shadow of the trees and sleep all theafternoon, that they might be ready to go out the next night.

  The bottom of the cove on the White Bull was of granite, slopinggradually into deep water, and smooth as ice. Beneath this formationof granite was a blue rock of much softer texture than granite. Thesea, in great storms, rolled the fragments of blue stone back and forthon this granite floor, and wore away and rounded the corners, makingthem of the shape of those you see in the pavements of the cities. Theaction of these stones for hundreds of years, on this granite floor,had worn holes in it as big as the mouth of a well, and two or threefeet in depth. Sometimes a great square rock would get in one of them,too big for the summer winds to fling out, and the sea would rollit round in the hole all summer, wear the corners off, and then theDecember gales would wash it out. Among the quartz sand in the bottomof this cove you could pick up crystals that had been ground out of therocks, from an eighth of an inch to an inch in diameter.

  It was a glorious sight to behold, and one never to be forgotten,either in this world or the next, when the waves, which had beengrowing beneath the winter’s gale the whole breadth of the Atlantic,came thundering in on these ragged rocks, breaking thirty feet high,pouring through the gaps between them, white foam on their summitsand deep green beneath, and when a gleam of sunshine, breaking from aragged cloud, flashed along their edges, displaying for a moment allthe colors of the rainbow. But when in the outer cove of the White Bullthe great wave came up, a quarter of a mile in length, bearing beforeit the pebbles, some weighing three hundred pounds, others not largerthan a sparrow’s egg, all alive and moving in the surf, and rollingover each other on the smooth granite bottom, how solemn to listen tothat awful roar, like the voice of Almighty God!

  Amid all this commotion, the little harbor, protected by its graniteramparts, was tranquil as a summer’s lake. The surface of it was indeedflecked with the froth of the breakers that drifted in little bunchesthrough the gaps of the rocks, and there was a slight movement causedby the last pulsation of some dying wave; but that was all, and way upin the cove there was no motion whatever.

  It may be interesting as well as instructive, having the old traditionsof the island to guide us, to consider the manner in which thispicturesque and most useful harbor was formed.

  Captain Rhines said his father told him, that when he was a boy (nearlyseventy years before the date of our tale) these outer rocks were allconnected with the main island. Between the eastern end of the islandand the Little Bull, and between the Little Bull and the White Bull,was a strip of clay loam, covered with a growth of fir, hemlock,and spruce; and between the White Bull and the Junk of Pork, and thewestern point of the main island, were sand-spits mixed with stones,and salt grass growing on them. What is now the harbor was then aswamp, into which the brook and all the rain-water from the higherportions of the island drained. In the middle of this swamp was a pond,margined with alder bushes, cat-tail flags, and rotten logs. In highcourses of tides the salt water came into it, and this brackish waterbred myriads of mosquitos.

  When people went on there, they had to pick a smooth time, and go righton the top of the tide, and haul their boat over a sand-spit into theswamp. It was impossible to land, or get away from there, when it wasrough. Captain Rhines went on there once a gunning, in December, andhad to stay a week. Having no axe to build a camp, he turned his boatbottom up to sleep under, and getting fire with his gun, cooked and atesea-fowl; but he got awful tired of them.

  He said, moreover, that the land on the outside kept caving off everyspring when the frost came out, and falling into the sea, till therewas only a little strip of land, with three old hemlocks upon it, left;and he used to pity them as they stood there shivering in the gale,their great roots sticking out drying in the wind, and dripping withsalt spray, for he knew they were doomed, and must go.

  At length there came a dreadful high tide and south-east gale; the seabroke in and swept the whole soil off, and in the course of ten yearsturned it into a clam bed. It was the greatest place to get clams,for a clam chowder, that ever was in the world. He said that it keptgradually scouring out and deepening, till it became a first-rateharbor.

  This island was owned by a merchant of Boston, in whose employ CaptainRhines had sailed for many years, who gave him liberty to pasture itwith sheep, as a recompense for taking care of and preventing squattersfrom plundering it of spars and timber. As sheep are very fond ofsea-weed and kelp, they would make a very good living on a place likethis island, where most of our domestic animals would find pretty hardfare.

  An island like this of which I have spoken is a very pretty spot todescribe or visit; but I should like to ask my young readers if theythink they could be happy in such a place, especially after they haveenumerated with me the things, those we suppose to be living therewould be deprived of, and which they often imagine they could not livewithout.

  There was not a road on the island, nor a side-walk, only foot-paths;not a horse, a store, church, school-house, post-office, museum, ortoy-shop; not a piano, nor any kind of musical instrument, except thegrand diapason of the breakers; no circus, caravan, soldiers, norfireworks; no confectionery nor ice-creams.

  The island stood alone in the ocean; and though you could land at anytime when you could get there, yet there were weeks together in winter,when, in case of sickness or death, not a boat could live to cross fromthe main land; they were completely shut out from all the rest of theworld. But you say, perhaps,
these people must have been very poor.

  O, not at all. If you mean, by being poor, that they had not muchmoney, or horses, or carriages, or rich dresses, and servants towait on them, why, then they were poor; but if you mean by the termpoor, such poverty as you see in the cities or in the large countrytowns, where you may see aged women in rags begging from door to door;children with their little bare feet as red as the pigeons’ with thecold, picking the little bits of coal out of the ashes that are thrownout of the stores and houses; gathering pieces of hoops and chipsaround the wharves and warehouses to carry home to burn; with the tearsrunning down their little cheeks, crying, “Please give me a cent to buysome bread,”--O, there was no such poverty as that there: they neverknew what it was to want good wholesome food, and good coarse warmclothing to keep out the frost and snow.

  “But how did they get it, if they had not much money to buy it?”

  “Get it? Why, they worked for it; and if any one had called theseisland people beggars, they would have broken his head, or flung himoverboard.”

  You may think as you like, my young friends; but people did live onthis island, and were happy as the days are long, though they had theirtrials and “head flaws,” as we all must.