I BUILD A CURIOUS "BOX" BOAT--AN UNPLEASANT NIGHT AT SEA--MY SUNDAY
SERVICE--THE POEM, "ALEXANDER SELKIRK"--ITS APPLICABILITY TO MY
LOT.
During the summer my roving propensities began to assert themselves, and
I longed to go farther _afield_ over the sea. I bethought me how I might
contrive myself a boat in which to venture into the offing with, as my
canoe was too frail to go far from shore.
I looked around to see what I could utilize, and found I had a few inch
boards and plenty of rivets, nails, and screws; but after overhauling my
stock I came to the conclusion that my materials would not warrant my
commencing a craft of any size, so for several days I gave up the
project, till one day visiting the boathouse I cast my eyes on the large
tin-lined packing cases in which my goods had been packed. Why not
utilize these? There were four of them. Three were of the same
dimensions, namely, four feet long, three feet wide, and two and a half
feet deep; while the fourth was three feet and a half long, two feet
wide, and two and a half feet deep.
That night I went to bed early, so as to have a good "think" as to how I
could make a boat of these boxes, with the help of my deal boards and
tools.
I soon hit on a plan, and could scarcely get a wink of sleep for
thinking and maturing my plans; in fact, at two a.m. I got up, dressed,
and went and re-measured the cases and re-inspected them, to see if they
were really eligible for my purpose. They were, and I retired to bed
again perfectly overjoyed, so that I only dozed and woke continually
till five a.m., when I finally arose and commenced operations in the
boathouse.
"Begum" knew there was something in the wind, for I had little to say to
him, so full was I of my scheme.
I found my cases with their tin linings were quite water-tight, which
was a necessary condition for keeping my craft afloat, and having
prepared my tools and got my timber ready for a start, went homeward to
breakfast, shooting a very fine pigeon on the way, which had probably
strayed over from Guernsey. Here was a dinner provided for me which only
required cooking. Indeed, it frequently happened that at breakfast time
my dinner would be flying about round the island.
To help me in the description of the building of my craft I here give
sketches of her construction. First I took my cases 2, 3, and 4, and
firmly screwed them together, and afterwards added number 5, which was
not so wide by six inches, but still served admirably for a stern. Then
came my first difficulty. How should I form the bows? This I got over by
making another case, No. 1, of a triangular form with a bulkhead
running across, to which I nailed my side timbers, so as to give them an
outward curve. These streaks I put on clinker-wise--that is,
overlapping, and thoroughly caulked them with oakum soaked in grease.
[Illustration: The Yellow-Boy]
Next, to strengthen the hull and hold everything firmly in position, I
nailed a top streak along from stem to stern, so as to form a gunwale,
and another at the lower edges of the cases, tarring everything as I
proceeded, including myself; but as the weather was hot a pair of old
pants cut off at the knee, and a ragged shirt, were my only encumbrance
in the way of clothing. Now I proceeded to cut down the partitions
between the various sections for a depth of six inches. I then carefully
caulked the tiny crack between each of these bulkheads, and turning the
surplus tin over, nailed it to the wood. Over these bulkheads I placed
thwarts six inches wide, and then proceeded to make a keel. This I did
by bolting two thicknesses of board together and cutting them down, so
that it measured three inches deep at the stem and six at the stern. The
fastening on of this keel gave me more trouble than anything else
connected with the boat, for I had no bolts long enough to go through
six inches of timber, and then through the bottom of the boat. There was
only one way, and that was to make some bolts eight inches long, and
this I did from some pieces of three-eight iron rod I found. Nine bolts
took me a whole day to make--from six in the morning till six in the
evening. My anvil was a granite rock, which I had to carry on my
shoulders from the beach; but it served its purpose capitally.
My labours at the anvil were considerably lightened by the singing of
all the appropriate songs I could think of, especially the "Village
Blacksmith," which I think I must have worn out while making my bolts
and other fastenings.
I made heads to my bolts, and thrusting them through the keel, fastened
them off on the inside with iron collars or burrs. To make the keel more
secure I ran a strap of iron up the stern, from the heel of the keel,
and screwed it in place.
For the mast I made a step by crossing two pieces of board, and where
they crossed cut a hole through sufficiently large to take my mast,
which was a short one, being only about ten feet long. These cross
pieces not only held the mast, but also greatly strengthened the bows,
which felt the first and full force of the waves.
Then the rudder had to be made and attached, thole pins provided, and
the whole concern tarred inside and out, tin and all.
Oars had to be made, and with these I had some little difficulty; but by
steadily pegging away I at length turned out three very serviceable, if
not elegant, ones. The third was in case of a breakage, for it would
never do to go to sea without a spare oar, as in case of accident I
might have drifted helplessly goodness knows where.[1]
The Bay of Avranches is a large place, and as the Channel Islands do not
lie in the direct course of ocean-going vessels, it would be extremely
awkward, even on a calm day, to be alone in a boat with but one oar.
I found a large roll of old sails in the loft of the boathouse, all much
too large for my boat; but I selected a jib, and cut it down to form a
lug-sail. This sail being discoloured, I gave it a coat of yellow ochre
and boiled oil on each side, which gave it a very curious appearance.
The upper strake of my boat I also painted yellow, and to finish off
christened my craft the "Yellow Boy."
The launch was a Herculean task, as I had built her too high above high
water-mark, and it took me nearly a day to get her down and afloat.
Finding I could not move her with my own bodily strength, I had to carry
an anchor out and attach a block-tackle and thus, with the help of my
faithful old comrade, "Eddy," haul the boat gradually down below high
water-mark, where I left her for the tide to rise and float her. She
seemed large while I was at work upon her, but the huge bulk of
Creviçhon towering up in the background dwarfed her to a cockle shell.
While the tide was rising I busied myself in selecting large flat pieces
of granite for ballast, and fastening them down to the floor with
battens, which operation was scarcely finished when the tide came into
the little cove, and in half an hour the "Yellow Boy" was afloat.
"Hurrah!" I shouted, while "Begum" barked with joy. I could not refrain
from taking the good fellow with me for the trial trip, for I must have
someone to talk to, as I felt in such a joyful mood.
It was late in the afternoon when we started off, and I had not broken
my fast since dinner, so letting the boat drift on the now sluggish
tide, I opened my tin provision box, and with capital appetites my dog
and I fell to.
The water found its way in in two or three places, but these I quickly
caulked, and soon had everything water-tight. Then the sail did not sit
to my liking, so down it came, and having my palm and needles I soon
altered it. Then I shifted the ballast somewhat, and got everything
square and snug.
After about a couple of hours, as the tide was quite spent, I thought it
was about time to turn towards home, but on looking back the islands had
disappeared in the evening haze which was springing up, so turning the
boat's head I guessed at the position of Jethou, and hauled up the sail.
There was but a breath of wind, and before half an hour of our homeward
voyage was accomplished it was (with the sea fog and the approach of
night) quite dark. Still I kept on, not sure where I was going, as I
could not see a light anywhere, till presently a steady rain set in, and
then I knew we were in for a night of it. The weather was warmish, but I
was so lightly clothed that I was quickly drenched to the skin. I looked
eagerly for a ship's light, but not one could I see, or I would have
borne down upon her and got the bearings of Jethou from her skipper. I
did what best I could under the circumstances, resolving never again to
be led away by any new fad, so as to be oblivious to everything else, as
I had been in getting my new boat into trim. It was a dreadful time for
me, as I knew Jethou to be surrounded by rocks on all sides, so that I
had to keep a very sharp look out, for fear of running on them and
getting stove in, which would probably have resulted in my death, if the
rocks were submerged at high water.
About what I should judge to be the middle of the night, as I sat
shaking with cold with my hand on the tiller, I suddenly became aware of
the presence of huge rocks right in front of me. I lowered the sail
instantly and got out the oars, pulling gently to the lee side of these
rocks, and with some difficulty landed and made fast my boat between two
lofty pillars of granite, which rose sheer from the sea. I was
dreadfully cold and could find no shelter from the rain, which had
completely saturated my paltry clothing. I therefore had a dip in the
sea, which appeared to me warmer than the cold rain and night air, and
less likely to have bad after effects upon my constitution. Oh, poor
Robinson Crusoe! here was a pretty kettle of fish at the very first
trip. How gladly would I have changed places with my donkey, who was
safely under shelter, listening to the rain beating down, and saying to
himself, "No work for me to-morrow!"
The longest night must have an end, although I began to fear this
particular one would not do so, till I was past caring whether the sun
ever rose again or not. But by-and-bye the dawn began to break, and
quickly spread itself over the sky, and with the light the fog dispersed
slowly, and showed me a barrel upon the top of a pole perched on the
highest rock of the group I was a prisoner upon, by which I knew I was
on the Ferriers, which lie about a short mile south-west of Jethou. I
climbed to the pole and took a survey, and could just make out Jethou's
back above the haze which still rolled silently above the still waters.
Down I scrambled to my boat, eager to push off and reach home, but alas,
my craft was high and dry four feet above the sea, on a ledge which
just held her comfortably cradled, in derision to my anxiety. "Begum"
lay calmly sleeping in the stern sheets. How I envied him his power of
passing the dull hours away, oblivious to wet or cold.
Half an hour--an hour--two hours passed, and then the kindly sea had
compassion on my lonely, forlorn condition, and rose and toyed with my
boat, and finally lifted her and bore her safely back to my home.
Home! what a word after such a night! I almost fell ashore, so great was
my anxiety, and so desperately hungry did I feel.
My surroundings had now changed from what they were three hours since;
for now I was on my island home, with the birds singing and the sun
shining brightly and warmly upon me, so that I threw off my wet clothes
and worked in a state of nature to get my tackle ashore, while "Begum"
fetched "Eddy" to help me to get my craft above tide mark.
Good old "Eddy." I felt he was indeed a friend as he came trotting down
the rocky path with a regular royal salute of braying. He tugged, and I
tugged, till when the boat was safely beached I felt as nearly exhausted
as ever I have been in my life. I scarcely had strength to get up the
path which usually I took at a run. However, I _did_ get up, and took a
good nip of brandy, following it with some solid refreshment, eating as
I lit the copper fire and filled the copper with water. While I waited
for the water to become hot, I became so drowsy that I could scarcely
keep awake, and yawned till an observer might have seen the roots of my
hair, such an open countenance did I present. The water (although I
watched it) boiled at last, and this I poured into a big tub partly
filled with cold water, and had a bath for ten minutes as hot as I could
bear it, after which I hopped into bed and slept, and slept, and slept.
It was eight a.m. when I went to bed, and I did not wake for fourteen
hours--that is till ten p.m.; and knowing that I had slept the entire
day away without a thought for my poor live stock, I turned over,
resolving to be up and feed the said live stock at dawn. But when I
again woke the sun was high above the horizon, and up I jumped, or tried
to, but found that I was very stiff and sore all over from my night
adventure. As I walked about and worked, feeding my animals, I gradually
felt better, especially after a hearty breakfast, of which I stood much
in need, after twenty-four hours' fast.
After this adventure I was very careful not to go out again without
protection from the weather in the shape of a good thick coat and
sou'wester, beside which I always put a tin of biscuits and a two-pound
tin of preserved meat in the lockers near the stern, in case of
emergency, and more than once I had to break bulk when a trip
unexpectedly kept me out longer than I anticipated.
I now had all I could desire in the way of comforts and engagements, and
not an idle day did I spend, except Sundays, upon which day I never did
a stroke of work nor fired a shot. Even my rabbit gins were neglected
that day. All I did was to feed my animals, walk or doze in my hammock
and meditate, and this to me was a great enjoyment. When the wind was
westerly I could hear the Guernsey church bells ringing for service, and
when they ceased I knew it was eleven o'clock, and regulated my watch
accordingly; that being done I always spent the time between that hour
and twelve in going through the church service for the day, and the
regulation three hymns, with one or two added, and a chapter or two from
the Bible in place of a sermon. Then I felt comfortable, and contented,
and without fear.
One Sunday afternoon, swinging in my hammock in the grove reading a book
of poetry, I came across those beautiful verses by Cowper, entitled,
"Alexander Selkirk," and could not but think how true they were to my
own lot in many points; in fact, few persons reading the poem _could_
appreciate it as I did in my solitude, with nought but the sea and sky
with their teeming creatures around me. The first half of the first
verse fitted me capitally, and I could not get it out of my head all
day; it tickled my fancy:
"I am monarch of all I survey,
To my right there is none to dispute;
From the centre all round to the sea,
I am lord of both fowl and of brute."
In the second verse occur the lines:
"I am out of humanity's reach,
I must finish my journey alone;
Never hear the sweet music of speech--
I start at the sound of my own."
Certainly it was very seldom I heard a human voice, even in the
distance, sometimes not for weeks together; but as to starting at the
sound of my own, well, that is not at all correct. Probably if my
friends could have heard the voice of either "Eddy" or myself, when in
full song, _they_ would have had a _start_, if not a severe shock to the
system.
Again:
"Society, friendship, and love,
Divinely bestowed upon men;
Oh, had I the wings of a dove,
How soon would I taste you again!"
Dove's wings would not have borne my thirteen stone weight. Perchance
the giant wings of the Albatross would have been more practicable, if
less poetical, and with these appendages I might have been tempted to
have a peep at my friends in England, despite the supremely ridiculous
figure I should have cut in the air, and the chance I should have stood
of being shot as a very _rara avis_. Fancy me lighting down on our old
thatched-roof house, and frightening everyone out of their seven senses,
including my darling Priscilla, who, if she were not too frightened,
would certainly bring me down with a charge of No. 4 (chilled) shot.
The next verse is nearly true of my state in its entirety:
"Religion! what treasure untold
Resides in that heavenly word!
More precious than silver and gold,
Or all that this earth can afford;
But the sound of the church-going bell
These valleys and rocks never heard;
Never sighed at the sound of a knell,
Or smiled when a Sabbath appeared."
It is scarcely true to say that the rocks _never_ hear the sound of the
church-going bell, for with a westerly breeze the bells can be heard
quite plainly, and I have even heard a dog bark at that distance, which
shows how distinctly, and to what a great distance sound will travel
over water.
If rocks have ears they must occasionally have been ravished by my
rendering of Sankey and Moody's hymns. If they have a memory they must
have learnt several of them by heart; in fact, have been so familiar
with them as to desire a change for something secular. They never
applauded me, but when the Heavens spoke with thunder they clapped their
granite hands till they cracked again.
The last verse hits me again--quite a bull's eye:
"But the sea fowl is gone to her nest,
The beast is laid down in his lair;
Even here is a season of rest,
And I to my cabin repair.
There's mercy in every place,
And mercy, encouraging thought!
Gives even affliction a grace,
And reconciles man to his lot."
Yes, I nightly had to repair to my cabin, and in the wet season had my
cabin to repair; but I made it so cosy, that like the last line, "it
reconciled me to my lot."
Oh, Crusoe! how I would have loved to have shared Juan Fernandez with
thee! What a Friday I would have been, and what enjoyment I should have
discovered in everything--except black man killing! But even that I
should have taken my part in it if it came to the question "kill or be
killed."
[Illustration: Decorative scroll]
FOOTNOTE:
1: It so happened that only a few years since, a young lady,
taking a row after church one Sunday evening, lost an oar overboard and
drifted out to sea. In the morning she was picked up (being then quite
out of sight of land) by a vessel bound for Canada, and actually taken
to Newfoundland, from whence in about a month she arrived home safely,
much to the joy of her sorrowing friends, who had given her up as
drowned.
[Illustration: Decorative scroll]
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