Charlie Bell, The Waif of Elm Island

by Elijah Kellogg

  CHAPTER XI.

  BEN REVEALS HIS LONG-CHERISHED PLAN TO HIS FATHER.

  The spring was now approaching. Ben had a large amount of lumber cut;but, as the spars had been pretty well culled out before, much thegreater proportion of it was logs, fit only for boards. He might havecut more spars, but he did not mean to clear any more of the islandthan was needed for pasture and tillage, if he could possibly avoid it.

  He had already realized a good deal of money by running some risk,when he took his spars to Boston, and saved nearly all the expense oftransportation. But he now had determined upon a still more adventurousplan, which he had been revolving in his mind, and preparing for allthe previous summer, and during the winter.

  This was no less than to take his boards to the West Indies in a raft,or rather to make them carry themselves. For this reason he had broughthis boards back from the mill, and stuck them up to dry, instead ofselling them there, as he might have done. It was for this reason thathe cut the cedar, and piled it up to dry, that it might be as light aspossible.

  But to encounter the tremendous seas of the Gulf Stream, and keep suchan enormous body of timber together in a sea way, was quite a differentmatter from going to Boston on a raft. Still the gain was in proportionto the risk.

  “If,” reasoned Ben, “men can go thirty miles up the rivers, cut logs,raft them down, manufacture them into boards, take them to Portland,Boston, or Wiscasset, sell them to another party, pay wharfage, pay forhandling them over two or three times, freight them to the West Indies,and then make money, how much could a man make who cut them at his owndoor, made them into boards at a tithe of the expense, transported themat a trifling expense compared with the others, and sold them in thesame market!”

  Ben did not lack for mechanical ability and contrivance, and was equalto any emergency. He believed he had devised a plan to hold the timbertogether, and put it into a shape to be transported.

  But another and more embarrassing question was, who would go ascaptain of the strange craft? He could think of no one who possessedsufficient capacity as a seaman and navigator, and who would be willingto take the risk, but John Strout; but John was liable to get the worsefor liquor, and therefore would not do.

  “What a fool a man is,” said Ben to himself, “to make a beast ofhimself with rum! Now, there is John Strout, as capable, noble-hearteda fellow, and as good a seaman and navigator, as ever stepped on avessel’s deck, and likes to go to sea, which I never did (only went toget money), poking about these shores in a fisherman, when he might becaptain of as fine a ship as ever swum, kept down by rum, and nothingelse. I wish Sally would let me go. I am a good mind to ask her.”

  Ben at length became so possessed with the idea, that, unable anylonger to keep it to himself, he broached it to his father, fullyexpecting to be ridiculed, when, to his utter astonishment, the oldseaman said, “I think it can be done, Ben. I see no difficulty but whatcan be got over;” and, as usual with him, forgetting all the risk inthe profits of the adventure, exclaimed, “What a slap a fellow couldmake, hey! Ben, if he only gets there. The Spaniards are hungry forlumber, for they have been kept short through the war.”

  “But the greatest difficulty of all is, who will go as master? You knowI promised Sally not to go to sea. I won’t break it.”

  “No difficulty at all, Ben. I’ll go myself.”

  “You go, father!”

  “I go? Yes; why not? I guess I haven’t forgot the road; I’ve travelledit often enough. I never promised my wife that I’d stay at home, onlythat I’d try; and I have tried bloody hard, and I can’t. I thought Iwas worn out, but I find I ain’t. I’m live oak and copper-fastened.I’ve got rested and refitted, and am about as good as new. She can’tsink, that’s a sure case; and I’m sure she can’t spring a leak.She’ll be like the Mary Dun Dover the old salts tell about,--threedecks and nary bottom, with a grog-shop on every jewel-block, anda fiddler’s-green on every yard-arm. She’ll be like the Irishman’sboots,--a hole in the toe to let the water in, and another in the heelto let it out; so there will be no pumping.”

  It is often the case in our plans that one prominent difficultyprevents for the time all considerations of others, which beingremoved, the lesser ones present themselves. It was thus with Ben. Atfirst the great difficulty was to find a master; now others presentedthemselves.

  “Can you sell a cargo of lumber for money? Won’t you have to take sugaror molasses? They all do; and then you will have no way to get it home,without costing more than it is worth, for you will have to pay justwhat freight they have a mind to ask.”

  “The Spaniards have got money enough; your lumber is of an extraquality, and if you offer it a little less for cash, there will be notrouble. They will jump at it like a dolphin at a flying-fish. You canafford to sell it a good deal less, and then make your jack.”

  “Do you think you can get men to go in such a craft?”

  “Go? yes. These boys round here will go to sea on a shingle with me.John Strout will go for mate, to begin with. I tell you, my boy,”slapping him on the back, “you’ve hit the nail on the head this time.Only think what the doubloons will be worth here, where it takes fivedollars of our Continental money to buy a mug of flip. If you offeredMr. Welch the gold, he would discount the interest on your debt, andpart of the principal, and be glad of the chance. Suppose you shouldtake the gold, and go to the farmers, who haven’t seen any hard moneythis ten years,--think you wouldn’t get your corn, wheat, and meatcheap!”

  Our readers will bear in mind, that in the war of the Revolution theContinental Congress issued bills that became depreciated, so that atthe close of the war they were not worth much more than the rebel moneyin the Secession war; and Captain Rhines’s statement that it took fivedollars of it to buy a mug of flip, was literally true.

  Some of the soldiers, who were paid off in this currency, were soenraged when they found how worthless it was, that they tore it up andthrew it away; but wealthy and far-seeing men bought it of the soldiersfor a song, kept it till it was redeemed, and thus became immenselyrich.

  This will explain to our young readers why it was that the people wereput to such shifts to get along; had to use withes for chains andropes, make their own cloth and dye-stuffs, and resort to all kinds ofcontrivances to get along; because, although the country after the warwas filled with foreign goods of all kinds, none but the wealthiest hadany money to buy them with; and the wealthy people were very few indeed.

  Almost all the trade was by barter--swapping one thing for another.Rum, coffee, and sugar were more plenty on the seaboard than anythingelse, because they could exchange lumber for them in the West Indies.Lumber, too, was sold to the English vessels for money, in the form ofspars, and ton-timber ten inches square, which led the people to workin the woods to the neglect of the soil--a thing which, as we shall seeby and by, Ben took advantage of.

  “I can tell you, my boy,” continued the captain, “your going to Bostonwith the spars wasn’t a priming to this; there’s money in it; I knowthere is.”

  Ben then told his father about the wreck of the masts and spars thatcame ashore. “Isn’t that a God-send, now?”

  “What sails were they?”

  “A fore-course, fore-topsail, fore-topmast staysail, andfore-topgallant yard, with the sail on it, and almost the whole of thetopsail halyards, with both blocks.”

  “They will make glorious throat-halyards. Were the shear-poles wood oriron?”

  “Iron.”

  “They will be first rate to cut up for bolts. Now, Ben, you get yourlogs to the mill, and get them sawed, and the boards home; and when theweather comes a little warmer, I’ll hire somebody to work on the farmwith John, and I’ll come over to the island, and we will put her rightthrough. I can hew and bore, but you must be master-carpenter. When itcomes to making sails and fitting rigging, I can do that, or we’ll doit between us.”

  Ben now dismissed all misgivings. He knew that his father was at homein all kinds of craft, from a canoe to
a ship; had stowed all mannerof cargoes; and having from boyhood been flung upon his own resources,was fertile in expedients. The quickness of decision manifested by thecaptain was by no means an indication of superficial knowledge, but hismind was quick in all its movements; and all seafaring matters had beenwith him subjects of mature thought and practical experience from earlylife, and his judgment was equal to his resolution.

  In short, he belonged to that class of men called lucky, which was onereason why men liked to go with him. In all his going to sea, he hadnever lost a man overboard.

  “The greatest difficulty I see,” said Ben, “is keeping the timbertogether, and high enough out of water to keep the sea from breakingover her; but I think I have found a way, for I have been studying uponit more than six months.”

  He then told his father how he meant to build the raft, or craft,whichever it might be called, which he highly approved. In maturing hisplan, Ben had fixed upon the summer as the best time in which to makethe voyage, as the winds were then moderate; but his father dissentedfrom this entirely. “In the first place,” said he, “if the winds in thesummer are light, they are more likely to be ahead; and such a thingas that will not work to windward; and, if you heave her to, she willmake leeway at a great rate; all her play will be before the wind, orwith the wind on the quarter. October is a better month than July orAugust; then we always have northerly or north-west winds. We mighttake a norther that would shove us across the gulf. The summer is a badtime on account of the yellow fever, and men will not be so willing togo.”

  “I see, father, it’s just as you say; besides, there is another thing Idid not consider; we cannot get canvas to put sail enough on her to domuch without a fair, or nearly fair, wind.”

  “Just so, Ben.”

  “There is another reason, father. The boards that are sawed thisspring, having all summer to season, will be dry and light, and thecraft will not be half so deep in the water, which will be a greatthing.”

  “I guess it will; for the most danger will be of the sea overtaking andbreaking on her. In the fall of the year,” said the captain, “therewill be fowls, potatoes, and other things we can carry as a venture,that will help pay expenses.”

  When their deliberations became known to Mrs. Rhines, she was by nomeans pleased with the turn matters had taken. “I thought, Benjamin,”she said, with a reproachful look, “that after you had been gone almostall the time since we were married, you would stay at home with yourfamily, and make my last days happy, and not go beating about at seain your old age, when you’ve got a good home, and enough to carry youdown the hill of life. I declare, I think it is a clear tempting ofProvidence, after you have been preserved so many years. I shouldn’twonder if something should happen to you, and I don’t thank Ben forputting it into your head. He won’t go himself, and leave Sally, buthe’ll send his old father.”

  “Goodness, wife! don’t take it so serious. What’s a trip to the WestIndies? just to cheat the winter, and get home to plant potatoes in thespring. I’ll bring you home a hogshead of sugar, and you can make allthe preserves you like. I’ll bring you home guava jelly, and tamarinds,and pine-apple preserves; and you know you like to have such thingsto give to sick folks. Most all the neighborhood is sick when you havethem.”

  “These things are all well enough in their way,” replied his wife,while a tear stole down her cheek, “but they cannot make up for yourabsence; but I suppose it must be.”

  “Don’t cry, wife. I don’t want to grieve you, and I’m sure I don’t wantto leave you; but you know what a good child Ben has been to us; hownobly he stepped forward when I was in trouble, and helped me out, andis now feeling the want of the money he then gave me. There’s nobodycan take charge of this craft, and help him now as I can, and I think Iought to do it.”

  When Ben returned from his visit to his father, he told Sally and Joethe whole matter.

  “Now I know,” said Sally, “what you have been thinking about so long,and talking about in your sleep all this winter.”

  “And I,” said Joe, “know what all these boards stuck up to dry, andthat cedar, mean; and what made you so delighted when all that riggingand iron-work came ashore. I should have thought you would. Good onyour head, Ben! I’ll stand blacksmith, for I have worked most a yearin a blacksmith’s shop; and when you get her ready for sea I’ll go inher; and, if I go, Seth Warren will go, too, for he can’t live withoutme, and there will be two good corn-fed boys at any rate.”

  They now improved the few remaining days of winter in hauling theremainder of the logs from the woods, and then began with all despatchto raft them to the mill, bringing the boards back as fast as they weresawed, and sticking them up to season. They found the Perseverance,that lay in the cove, very convenient for towing their rafts.