LAUNCHING THE BOATS--MORE WORK, AND YET MORE--ECLIPSE OF FEB. 12TH,
1831--HEALING BY "FIRST INTENTION"--FRANK’S BIRTHDAY--PREPARING FOR A
VOYAGE--RAIN, RAIN
The boats came on swimmingly. By the end of the second week of their
systematic labours they had not only been sufficiently excavated, but
the young shipwrights had trimmed down much of the exterior. They were
two and a half feet wide, by twenty inches deep, and eighteen feet long.
At this stage Robert supposed the work to be nearly done, but Sam shook
his head, and said, "Not half." The most laborious part of the work was
over, but so much more remained, in the way of paring, smoothing,
trimming, and bringing into proper shape, that it was full a fortnight
before they were considered fit for the water.
They were ready for launching on the same day; and though Robert made
his announcement of the fact some hours in the advance of Harold, it was
agreed, that as Sam had been with him half a day more, the race should
be considered as even. The launching occupied four days. They were
distant from the water respectively an hundred and an hundred and fifty
paces. A thick forest was to be traversed. It was necessary to clear a
road, build bridges, and cut down the river bank. Robert’s was launched
on February 1st, and Harold’s on February 3d. On each occasion there
was a general rejoicing, and every person, not excepting Mary and Frank,
fired a salute.
But on being launched the boats did not float to please them. One was
too heavy at the bows, the other leaned too much to one side. Several
days were spent in correcting these irregularities, and thus closed the
fifth week of their labour.
Another week was spent in making the rudders and a pair of oars, and
fitting in the seats and masts. This caused them to make another voyage
to the wreck, for the purpose of obtaining planks, screws, and other
materials. They went, of course, in their boats, and had the pleasure
of seeing them behave admirably. They were steady, sat well on the
water, and obeyed the oars and helm almost as well as though they had
been built in a shipyard.
There were two incidents worthy of note occurring about this time. One
was the discovery, made first by Frank, of an interesting astronomical
phenomenon. About a quarter before twelve o’clock he had gone to the
water bucket beside the door for a drink of water, when all at once Mary
heard him call out,
"Run here, sister, run! The sun has turned into a moon!"
He had looked into the water, and seeing the reflected image of the sun
like a half moon, sharply horned, had strained his eyes by looking up
until he ascertained that the sun itself was of the same shape. Mary,
who had witnessed an event of the kind before, perceived at a glance
that it was an eclipse. She therefore took a basin, and hurried with
Frank to the landing, to inform the others of the fact.
"Look in the _water_, brother," said Frank, whose eyes were yet watery
from the severe trial he had given them. "You can’t look at the sun
without crying."
For a time, of course, no work was done; all were engaged in watching
the phenomenon. It was the great annular eclipse of February 12th,
1831, in which the sun appeared at many places like a narrow ring of
light around the dark body of the moon. To our young people there was
no ring. They were too far south. The sun appeared like the moon when
two days old, and the sky and earth were very gloomy.
The other incident was in itself trivial, and would not be introduced
here but that the fact it illustrates is sometimes of real importance.
It was simply the healing of a wound by what is called "_first
intention_." Mary was engaged in some of her culinary duties, when, by
an unfortunate slip of her hand, the knife which she was using missed
its place, and sliced her finger. The piece was not cut _off_, but there
was a large gash, and it bled profusely. Her first act was to wash the
wound well in tepid water until the blood ceased to flow; then seeing
that all the clots were removed, she brought the lips of the wound
together, and kept them so by a bandage and a little case, like the
finger of a glove made fast to the wrist by a piece of tape. The wound
soon underwent a process similar to that of trees in grafting, only far
more rapid. By the next morning the lips began to adhere, and in the
course of three days the wound was healed--so rapidly will the flesh of
a healthy person recover from a cut if the conditions necessary to
"first intention" are observed, viz., that the parts be _brought quickly
together, and kept without disturbance_.
The next week was spent in fitting up the sails and rigging, and
preparing the boats, so that in case of rough weather they could be
firmly lashed together.
Their work was now done. They had been labouring steadily for a month
and a half, and were ready by Friday evening to pack up and start for
home. But they resolved to wait and sanctify the Sabbath. They needed
rest: they were jaded in every limb and muscle. Moreover, the next day
was Frank’s birthday. Taking everything into consideration, they
preferred to spend that day in rest and rejoicing, partly in honour of
Frank, but more especially as a sort of thanksgiving for their
successful work. And as the voyage home promised to be long, and
perhaps perilous, they also determined that they would devote Monday to
trying their boats at sea, by an outward voyage round the island.
After Frank had retired, the rest agreed upon the plans by which to make
the following day pleasant and profitable to him.
"I," said Mary, "will make him a birth-day cake."
"And I," said Robert, "will teach him how to shoot a bird."
"And I," said Harold, "will teach him how to swim."
"And I," said Sam, "will sing him a corn song."
They went to bed and slept soundly. It is astonishing how habit can
reconcile us to our necessities! Had these young people been set down
by any accident, a few months before, in the midst of a lonely prairie,
surrounded by a wild forest, full of bears and panthers, afar from their
friends, and without any other protection than that which they had long
enjoyed, they would have been miserable. But they went to sleep that
night, not only free from painful apprehension, but happy--yes, actually
_happy_--when they knew that their nearest neighbours were treacherous
savages, and that they were surrounded nightly by fierce beasts, from
whose devouring jaws they had already escaped more than once, only by
the blessing of God upon brave hearts and steady hands. How came this
change? It was by cheerful habit. _The labours, dangers, and exposure
of men, had given them the hearts of men_. God bless the children! They
slept in the midst of that leafy forest as sweetly as though they were
at home, and the bright stars that rose by turns to measure out the
night, looked down like so many angel eyes, to watch the place of their
habitation.
Mary and Frank were the first to awake in the morning. The others,
wearied by their long labours, and free from pressing responsibility,
abandoned themselves to a repose as sweet as it was needful. Frank
moved first, and his moving awaked Mary, who, on calling to mind the
nature of the day, and the resolutions of the night before, put her arms
affectionately round his neck, and said, "Good morning, Mr.
Eight-years-old; I wish you many pleasant birthdays."
Frank put his arms round her neck, also, and kissed her; then both began
to dress. Wishing not to disturb the sleepers, they slipped softly from
the tent. Mary went first to the poultry-pen, which she opened. The
ducks quacked with pleasure at her approach, and she watched them as
they dodged through the narrow hole opened for their passage, and ran in
a long line with shaking tails and patting feet after the leading drake.
Then she raised the portcullis-like gate for the goats and deer; Nanny
bleated, no doubt intending to say "good morning," but the unmannerly
kid and fawn pranced away, mindful of nothing but their expected feast
of grass and leaves.
While Mary was engaged with these, Frank went to look after his own
particular pets. She heard him at the back of Nanny’s pen, where the
cubs were kept, calling out, "Come along, sir!" then he laughed
heartily, but a moment after his voice sounded impatiently, "Quit it,
you Pollux! quit it, sir!" then in a distressed tone, "Sister, sister,
come help me!" Mary ran to his assistance, yet she could scarce
restrain her risibles at the sight which greeted her eyes. Frank had
loosed the cord which confined the cubs, and was leading them out for
the purpose of a romp, when Pollux, who was a saucy fellow, and knew as
well as his young master what was intended, rose, with a playful growl,
upon his hind legs, and walking behind him, pinioned his arms close, and
began trying to throw him down. Frank was much pleased with what he
regarded as a cunning trick in his young scholar; but he soon found that
it was by no means pleasant to be hugged in that way by a bear. He
tried in vain to break loose, and when Mary came to his assistance, the
bear had thrown him down, with his face and nose in the dirt. Frank
rose, looking very much mortified, and more than half angry.
"You ugly beast," he said to the bear, that seemed amazingly to enjoy
the joke, and was rising for another frolic. "Get out, sir. I have a
great mind to give you a beating."
"O, no, Frank," said Mary, "don’t be angry with your playmate. Remember
who taught him to wrestle, and remember besides that this is your
birthday."
Frank’s wrath instantly subsided, and jerking down Pollux by the cord,
he led both cubs back to the pen, where he secured them, and then washed
from his face the traces of his defeat.
Sam had by this time come from his shed-room and made the fire for
breakfast, and Robert and Harold, awaked by Frank’s call for help,
dressed themselves and made their appearance. They all wished Frank a
pleasant birthday, and hoped he might have as many as would be for his
good.
"Now, Master Frank," said Harold, while they were sitting together,
"what would you have us do for you today? We are all your humble
servants, and ready to do whatever we can for your pleasure."
"Then," said Frank, "the first thing I want you to do, is to carry me
right home to father and mother."
"I wish we could, Buddy," said Robert; "but as we cannot do all that
today, you must try to think of something else."
Frank could think of nothing. Robert suggested that he might spend part
of his birthday in learning to shoot.
"But I can shoot now," he replied. "Sister and I have shot many times
already since we came to the island."
"I mean," said Robert, "that you should learn to use a gun, so as to
kill whatever you wish."
"O, yes," said Frank, "I should like that very much. For who knows but
some old bear or panther may come after sister or me yet, before we get
away."
"O, as for bears," Robert maliciously remarked, "I think you will never
need a gun. I think you will always find a tree."
Frank’s face reddened as he returned, "I don’t care if I did, sir.
Cousin Harold knows that I did exactly right. Didn’t I, cousin?"
"Pardon me, Frank," Robert implored, "I did not suppose that you felt so
sore about that climbing. I only said it to teaze you. I am sure I
should have done exactly as you did. But I can’t help laughing to think
how your feet _twinkled_, as you climbed that tree."
Robert well knew that this half apology would be satisfactory. Frank
prided himself on his nimbleness, being so lithe and active that his
playmates used to call him "squirrel." The allusion to his "twinkling"
feet restored him to good humour.
"Now, Frank," said Robert, beginning his lecture with the gun in hand,
"the first lesson I wish to teach you is this, _never let the muzzle of
your gun point to yourself, or to any person_, and never allow any
person to point one towards you. A gun can never kill where it does not
point. Even when you are loading, or walking, be careful to hold it so,
that if it should go off it could hurt nothing."
He then related several stories, illustrating the fact that almost all
accidents from guns are from careless handling. Frank was a prudent
child. He listened attentively, and then replied,
"Brother Robert, I think I had better let the gun alone till I am older.
May be, if I begin so early, I shall shoot myself or somebody else."
Robert was pleased with this mark of caution in his little brother, and
said, "Hold on to that, Frank, it is a remark worthy of your birthday,
and I trust that every return of this day will find you as wise in
proportion to your age."
The further instructions intended for Frank that day, being of an
out-door character, were interrupted by a rain that commenced about nine
o’clock, and held on steadily all day. They employed themselves
leisurely in packing and preparing, first for the short voyage
contemplated on Monday, and also for the longer voyage home. During the
whole day the tent was strewed and confused with the various bags,
boxes, trunks, and kegs, intended to receive the articles to be carried.
They looked and felt like travellers on the eve of departure. About
sunset the rain ceased. The preparations being now complete, they came
together in the tent, and rested on the sofa. Sam was missing. He had
not been seen for half an hour, and now it was getting dark. Presently
they heard a voice ringing musically through the woods, in the direction
of the boat landing, "Join, oh, join, oh! Come, boys, we’re all here!
Join, oh! join, oh!" Frank sprang to his feet, exclaiming, "That is a
corn song!"
The music was very simple, and of the kind that may be termed
persuasive. It was the song usually sung by the negroes of one
plantation, when inviting those of the neighbourhood to join them in
their "corn-shuckings." This practice is much more common in the up
country of Georgia, where the corn crop is large, than on the seaboard,
where the principal attention is given to cotton. A corn-shucking
frolic among these light hearted people, is a scene worth witnessing; it
is always held at night, and concluded about midnight with a feast, and
is to the negro what a quilting party is to country people.
When Frank heard the first stave of Sam’s song, he recalled vividly the
merry scenes of the corn-shucking, and running towards the landing, met
him, and returned, holding him by the hand, and joining in the chorus.
It was late ere they retired to rest. They began to realize a tender
nearness to the loved ones at home, such as they had not felt since
parting from them. They talked long and gratefully over past
deliverances and future hopes; then closed the evening as those should
who wish to find the Sabbath a day of blessing.
The next morning dawned more dark and uncomfortable than the day
preceding. The whole sky was loaded with clouds, and the rain fell
every minute through the day. The young people probably would have
found their time pass away very dismally had it not been for the pious
vivacity of Harold, who laid himself out to make it agreeable. He
frankly avowed that one reason why he wished to have them unite with him
in spending the Sabbath aright, was his desire to succeed in the effort
to see their friends that week; and he referred for authority, to the
story told of Sir Matthew Hale, High Chancellor of England, who advised
that, if there were no higher motive, the Sabbath should be kept sacred
as a matter of _policy_; remarking that, for his own part, he could
almost foretell his success during the week to come, by the way he spent
the Sabbath.
The others, influenced by a variety of considerations, united with him
in this effort, and the day passed off not only with pleasure, but with
profit. Robert had always thought in his heart that this story of Sir
Matthew Hale smacked strongly of superstition; but when he came to
reflect that if the Bible is true, of which he had no doubt, the God who
speaks to us now is the same who spoke to Moses, and who actually
prospered or hindered the children of Israel according to their
observance of the Sabbath, he changed his opinion so far as this--he
resolved for the present to adopt the advice of that great man, and then
to watch whether the same results were verified in his own case. And
although his reflections upon this point partook of the merely
philosophic character that, to some extent, marked the operations of his
mind, the course upon which he resolved had several good effects; it
made him realize more sensibly his practical relation to God, and caused
him to watch more closely the consequences resulting from the discharge
or neglect not only of this particular duty, but of duty in the general.
That resolution, apparently so trifling, and expressed to no one,
started him on a perfectly new track, and enabled him to learn, from his
own experience, that "_whoever will watch the providence of God, will
never lack a providence to watch_."
On Monday the weather was worse than before. They did indeed go out,
well protected by thick boots, watercoats, and tarpaulin hats, to see
after their boats; but the day was so chilly, as well as wet, that their
most comfortable place was near the fire. Before sunset, however, the
rain ceased, the clouds rapidly dispersed, and when the sun flung his
last slanting beams across the earth, Robert pointed to Harold a red
spot upon a cloud, which spread so fast, that soon the whole western sky
was blazing with the promise of a fair morrow. With this expectation
they made every preparation, and went to bed.