GRIT AND GRATITUDE.
It was now the month of October. The early frosts had rendered the
air sharp and bracing. The nights were long, affording abundance of
sleep, and the forests were clothed in all the tints of autumn. Ben,
encouraged by the unexpected success he had met with in the sale of his
timber, assured that his wife was contented and happy, and his mind
buoyant with hope, drove the axe through the timber in very wantonness
of strength. It was no trifling addition to his happiness to find that
Charlie was not only industrious, but had a natural aptitude for the
use of tools.
He bought him a light, keen-tempered axe, that he might cut up the
small wood at the door, and split up oven-wood for Sally. When he
brought the axe from the smith’s, he said to Charles, “I will put a
handle in it, and then we will grind it.”
“I think,” he replied, “that I can put a handle in it, if you will tell
me what kind of wood to make it of.” Charles was not acquainted with
the different sorts of trees in this country.
“There is no white oak on the island,” said Ben; “but here is a
straight-grained hornbeam: I will take that.”
He cut down the tree, and splitting from it a suitable piece, left the
boy to make it himself. When he came in to dinner, the boy had made the
handle, and put it in the axe. Ben examined it with surprise.
“I couldn’t have made it any better myself,” he said. They now ground
the axe, and Charlie went into the woods every day with Ben. He would
chop into one side of the tree what little he was able, while Ben
chopped into the other; but when it was down, he was quite useful in
trimming off the limbs with his little axe: thus he learned to strike
true, and to chop with either hand forward.
Ben, every once in a while, came across a maple or oak, that stood
in the way: as he knew that by and by he should want a cart, plough,
harrow, and other tools, he cut them, and taking them to the mill with
his logs, had them sawed into joist and plank of different dimensions,
and then put them in the front room to season under cover, that they
might not warp or crack.
Charlie could not accomplish much in the woods, because he had not yet
become accustomed to chopping, and was not strong enough; yet it was
very pleasant for Ben to have company. But there were other ways in
which, boy as he was, he was exceedingly useful, and a source of direct
profit, which may serve to show to any little boy who reads this, how
much a boy, who has the will and pluck, may do. In the first place he
took care of the hens. Now, there never were any hens that enjoyed
themselves better, or laid more eggs, than Charlie’s. The stumps of
the trees Ben had cut were alive with bugs and wood-worms, also sow
bugs, that harbored in the decayed roots; here the hens scratched, and
scratched, and feasted. “Cock-a-doodle-do!” cries the rooster; “I’ve
found some worms!” and all the hens would run and gobble them up. You
will remember that the ledge, in which the middle ridge terminated,
was perpendicular; not a breath of north or east wind could get there,
because all back of it was forest, and there in the hot sun the hens
dug holes, and rolled in the mellow earth, where, even in winter, it
was warm when the sun shone, and Charlie scraped the snow away for them
down to the ground; they could also go to the beach and get gravel,
as the island was so far at sea that there was seldom any ice on the
beach.
Charlie also milked, and took care of the calf which they were raising,
and fed him with meal and potatoes. Hens like fish as well as cats, and
he caught flounders, tom-cod, and dug clams for them, so that they laid
most all winter. This was a great help to Sally, as Charlie’s coming
into the family made her a great deal more work, for she had stockings
and mittens to knit, and cloth to spin and weave, to make clothes for
him. She had to do it, too, at a great disadvantage; for, as they had
no sheep, and raised no flax, and had no loom, she was obliged to buy
the wool and flax, and send the yarn to her mother to weave. This took
a great deal of time, because her mother was only able to do Sally’s
work after she had done her own.
Charlie cut all the wood, except the large logs: these Ben cut, and
Charlie hauled them in on a hand-sled. Now, all this saved Ben’s time;
but he did more: he dug clams for chowder, and caught lobsters. The
rocks on the White Bull were a great resort of lobsters; many were
found under the eel-grass and the projections of the rocks. Whenever
he saw a bunch in the eel-grass, he would pull it away and find a
great lobster, which he would put in his basket. He would also peep
under the rocks, and say, “I see you, old fellow,” and with his
flounder-spear pick out another. He also caught smelts, which are
a first-rate pan fish. Round the points of the ledges were cunners
(sea-perch) and cod: these he caught also. This all went directly to
the support of the family.
Children reared in hardship, and thrown upon their own resources,
develop fast; and never was Charlie more happy than when, bringing home
a mess of fish, he felt he was of direct benefit to his benefactors.
In the enjoyment of abundance of food, warm clothes, plenty of sleep,
and breathing the bracing sea air, with the consciousness that he was
useful and beloved, he began to grow with great rapidity, and increase
in vigor and enterprise every day. When he first came he hardly dared
speak above his breath, and the most he attempted was a sickly smile.
But now he sang at his work or play (for he had good ear and voice),
could laugh as merry as Sally herself, and often put the squawks in an
uproar with his merriment. His pale cheeks had regained their color,
and his eyes all the fire of youth, for he loved, and felt that he
was beloved, and his finely-cut and delicate features were full of
expression.
Charlie, during his wandering life, had acquired considerable
experience in fishing. Within less than a mile of the island was an
excellent fishing-ground, where schools of large codfish would soon
come to feed. Charlie knew, if he could catch these, it would not only
be a valuable supply of food for winter, but they would sell for cash
at the westward, or at the store for half cash and half groceries.
But the great difficulty in the way was, he could not venture to go
there in the canoe. Ben was a giant, and everything he worked with was
made upon a corresponding scale. Charlie could hardly lift his axe.
His canoe was twenty-five feet in length, and the blades of the oars
were twice as wide as common, so that they might take stronger hold of
the water. Ben made them before he went to Boston, that, if the wind
came to the north-west, he might be able to exert all his strength;
otherwise, in a severe blow, he would have only pulled the oars through
the water without forcing the boat ahead.
Charlie could hardly move this great thing in the harbor, much less in
a sea, and against the wind.
Joe Griffin now came to chop, which increased Charlie’s anxiety to
catch the fish, as there were more mouths to fill, and Joe’s held a
great deal. He at length broached the matter to Ben, saying, if he only
had a light canoe, that he could pull, he could catch fish, for he had
been used to fishing.
“I would make you one,” said Ben, “if I had time; but Joe is here, and
the oxen are coming from the main, and I must chop.”
“But,” persisted Charlie, “I could dig it out; if you told me how, I
think I could make the outside.”
“Well,” said Ben, pleased with the boy’s evident anxiety to be useful,
“I will cut the tree, and you can be working it out, and we will help
you in rainy days, and at odd times.”
“O, no, don’t,” said Charlie; “I want to cut the tree, and make it all
clear from the stump.”
“Why, Charlie, it takes the largest kind of trees to make a canoe; it’s
no use to cut a valuable tree to make a plaything; it ought to be as
large as you can cleverly pull, or you’ll outgrow it. It will take you
a week to cut down such a tree with your little axe.”
“No matter; do let me try.”
Ben picked out the tree, marked out the direction of the kerf on the
bark with his axe, and left him. When Charlie came in to dinner,
the perspiration stood in drops on his face, and he was as red as a
turkey-cock.
“Well,” said Joe, “have you got through the bark?”
“Almost,” replied Charlie.
At night the boy showed evident signs of fatigue.
“Let me look at your hands,” said Ben. There were large blisters on
each; he pricked them with a needle, and Sally rubbed some butter on
them.
“I’ll give you a dozen or two of my round cuts in the morning,” said
Joe.
“O, no; I don’t want you to. I can cut it down.”
“Perhaps I shall go out after you are abed, and cut it down.”
“O, don’t,” cried the boy, his eyes filling with tears at the very
possibility of such a catastrophe.
“He don’t mean to do any such thing,” said Sally; “he’s only in fun;
nobody shall touch the tree.”
Relying on her assurance, the wearied boy went to bed.
“He’ll be sore enough in the morning,” said Joe; “but I like his grit,
any how.”
“Don’t tease him too much, Joe,” said Sally; “he’s a tender-hearted
thing, and takes everything in earnest.”
“Well, I won’t, if I can help it.”
The next day, at dinner, Charlie said to Ben, “I have cut the whole
length of the axe-handle on both sides; can’t I cut on the edges?”
“No; for then you cannot tell which way it will fall; and it might fall
on you and kill you. If you’re going to be such a chopper, you must
have an axe-handle as long as ours; take this afternoon and make one,
and that will rest you.”
Charlie did so, and in the morning, as soon as he could see, was in
the woods. About nine o’clock the enormous tree began to totter. He
had received a promise from Ben that nobody should come near him till
the tree was down. He stood at the end of the kerf, just where he had
been told to, and watched the top of the tree as it wavered in the air,
trembling all over, half with fear, and half with excitement, while
the perspiration, unheeded, dropped from his chin. Still the enormous
tree did not fall. Charlie put his shoulder against it, and when he
felt it waver, pushed till the sparks came in his eyes; but he soon
found this was useless. He didn’t like to stand right in front and cut;
at length, summoning all his resolution, he stepped to the larger
kerf, on the side towards which he expected it would fall, and, with
set teeth, plied the axe: snap went the wood; he jumped aside; the top
now began evidently to incline; crack! crack! and then with a great
crash, that made the boy’s heart leap into his throat, the enormous
cone fell, crushing the smaller growth, and sending broken limbs thirty
feet in the air, and shaking the ground all around. The boy leaped upon
the prostrate tree, and burst into loud cheers. It was the battle of
Waterloo to him.
“Let us go and see,” said Ben; “it will do him so much good.”
“You’ve done well, Charlie,” said Joe; “you never will cut many bigger
trees than that, if you work in the woods all your lifetime.”
“Now, father, where shall I cut it off?”
Ben marked the place. “You had better go in now, Charlie, and rest till
dinner-time, and cool off.”
[Illustration: CHARLIE’S BIG JOB.--Page 56.]
“I ain’t a bit tired,” said the proud, resolute boy; but Ben made him
go in, when he found, after the excitement was over, that an hour or
two of rest did not come amiss, for he laid down before the fire, and,
falling asleep, did not wake till dinner-time. After dinner he began
to dig it out, and, under Ben’s direction, hewed off a good deal of
the outside. Ben then took it on his shoulder, and carried it into the
front room, so that he could work on it rainy days and evenings till it
was done. He made the oars himself, and seats and thole-pins, and dug
it out, so that it was very light for a canoe; and, for fear it might
split, Ben made some oak knees and put in it. When put into the water
she was found to be stiff, and row easy.
No captain was ever prouder of his new ship than was Charlie of his
canoe. It was his own (the first thing he had ever owned), and by the
best possible right, for he had made it from the stump.
“There’s a mechanical principle in that boy, Ben,” said Joe; “do you
see how naturally he takes to tools, and what good proportions there is
to them oars, and how true the bevel is on the blades, and how neat he
cut the head and stern boards into that canoe?”
There was nothing Charlie now longed for so much as a calm day. In the
mean time he made himself a fisherman’s anchor. He took an oak limb,
which was a little sweeping, made it flat, and broader than it was
thick, and sharpened the ends; then he procured a crotch, and boring
two holes in the flat piece, put a flat stone, larger a little than
the piece of flat wood, edgeway upon it, and run the two forks of the
crotch down each side of the stone, and through the holes, and wedged
them, and put a wooden pin through to hold them. When this was thrown
overboard, the sharp points of the wood would stick into the bottom,
and the weight of the stone would hold them there. The stone, being so
much larger than the cross-piece of wood, always brought the wood into
the ground. These anchors, when the bottom is rocky, are much better
than iron ones, as you can pull them out of the rocks, or pull them to
pieces; and they will hold a boat as long as it is safe to stay, or
smooth enough to fish; whereas an iron one will often stick fast in the
rocks, and you must cut your cable. Hence these sort of anchors are
much used by fishermen who are often round the rocks; besides, they
cost nothing but the making.
The pleasant day came at last; by light Charlie was on the
fishing-ground, all in sight of the house. By two o’clock in the
afternoon he was rowing home with three hundred weight of fish.
A prouder boy there never was, as he came home before a pleasant
southerly wind, not having to pull any, only just to steady the boat
with the oars. Every few moments he kept looking over his shoulder to
see if anybody saw him; but Ben and Joe were where they could not see
him. By and by he saw Sally come to the door and look; he put his cap
on an oar, and held it up; she waved her hand to him, caught up some
dry brush, and ran in. Presently he saw a black smoke. “She’s putting
on the tea-kettle to get me a good hot supper. Won’t it go good? for
haven’t I earned it?” said he, as he glanced at the codfish, some of
which he had hard work to master, and get into the boat, they were so
large. By the time he had eaten his supper and dressed his fish, the
men came in from their work, when he received many and well-deserved
praises for his day’s work.