GUNNING ON THE OUTER REEFS.
BEN thought it was now a favorable time to do something to the house,
and made up his mind to speak to Uncle Isaac and Sam when they came on
for their gunning excursion, in order to obtain the aid of one to do
the joiner, and the other the mason work, for he and Charlie could do
the outside work. While preparing the cargo of the Ark, Ben had laid
by, from time to time, such handsome, clear boards and plank as he came
across, which were now thoroughly seasoned, having been kept in the
chamber of the house. He also had on hand shingles and clapboards.
They now began to remove the hemlock bark from the roof, and replace it
with shingles. To work with tools, to make something for his father and
mother, was ever a favorite employment of Charlie.
Aside from this, his great delight was to make boats; his house under
the big maple was half full of boats, of all sizes, from three inches
to two feet long. As he sat by the fire in the evenings, he was
almost always whittling out a boat. When he went to Boston, in the
Perseverance, he sought the ship-yards and boat-builders’ shops. He had
a boat on each corner of the barn, one on the top of the big pine, and
one on the maple, besides having made any number for John, Fred, and
little Bob Smullen.
He was now greatly exercised in spirit in respect to the boat he was
to make from the big log. He had resolved to make a model, and then
imitate it, and was racking his brain in respect to the proportions;
for he was very anxious she should be a good sailer.
He had not a moment to spare while they were shingling the house, it
being necessary to do it quickly, for fear of rain; but the moment the
roof was completed, he hid himself in the woods, and with blocks set to
work upon the model.
While thus busied, he recollected having heard Captain Rhines say, that
if anybody could model a vessel like a fish, it would sail fast enough.
He thought a mackerel was the fastest fish within his reach.
“There are mackerel most always round the wash rocks,” said he. “I’ll
model her after a mackerel.”
The next morning, just before sunrise, he was off the reef, in
the “Twilight,” and succeeded in catching three mackerel and some
rock-fish. Not wishing any spectators of his proceedings, he hid the
biggest mackerel in some water, to keep him plump, took the others,
and went in to breakfast. He next took some of the blue clay from the
bed of the brook, that was entirely free from stones and grit, and
would not dull a razor; and, mixing it with water and sand, till it
was of the right consistence, put it into a trough. Into this paste he
carefully pressed the fish; then he took up the trough, and, finding a
secret place at the shore, where the sun would come with full power, he
placed it on the rocks, and sifted sand an inch thick over the clay and
fish, and left it to harden.
In the course of three days, he found the fish had putrefied, and the
clay gradually hardened under the sand without breaking. He now swept
off the sand, exposing it to the full force of the sun till it was
completely dry; then he made a slow fire, and put the trough and clay
into it, increasing the heat gradually till he burned the trough away,
and left the clay with the exact impress of the mackerel in it, as red
and hard as a brick.
“There’s the shape of the mackerel, anyhow,” said Charlie,
contemplating his work with great satisfaction; “but how I’m going to
get a model from it is the question; however, there is time enough to
think of that between this and spring.”
He deposited his model in his house under the great maple, and devoted
all his time to helping his father improve the appearance of the house.
Our readers will recollect that the logs, of which the house was built,
were hewed square at the corners and windows; so Ben and Charlie
just built a staging, and, stretching a chalk line, hewed the whole
broadside from the ridge-pole to the sill square with the corners. They
accomplished this quite easily at the ends, but on the front and back
it was more difficult to hew the top log under the eaves; but they
worked it out with the adze.
Originally the house had but two windows on a side, and, as these were
on the corners to admit of putting in others, it looked queer enough.
They now cut out places for two more in a side, and intended, after
having smoothed the walls, to clapboard them; but their work was
interrupted for the time by the arrival of Uncle Isaac, Joe Griffin,
Uncle Sam, and Captain Rhines, to go on the long-talked-of gunning
excursion.
“I don’t see,” said Uncle Isaac, “how you do so much work; I think it
is wonderful, the amount you and this boy have done since we were here.”
“There’s one thing you don’t consider,” said Ben: “a person here is not
hindered; there’s not some one running in and out all the time, and
he is not stopping to look at people that go along the road; he’s not
plagued with other people’s cattle, and don’t have to fence against
them; he’s not out evenings visiting, but goes to bed when he has done
work, and the next morning he feels keen to go to work again. It’s my
opinion, if a man is contented, he will stand his work better, live
longer, and be happier, on one of these islands than anywhere else.”
As they were to start at twelve o’clock at night, they went to bed at
dark. Captain Rhines slept on board the vessel, as he could wake at
any hour he chose. He was to call the others if the weather was good;
if not, they were to wait for another chance. It was bright moonlight;
a little wind, north-west, just enough to carry them along, and
perfectly smooth. The place to which they were bound was an outlying
rock in the open ocean, more than seven miles beyond the farthest land,
upon which, even in calm weather, the ground swell of the ocean broke
in sheets of white foam, and with a roar like thunder; but when a
strong northerly wind had been blowing for a day or two, it drove back
the ground swell, and when the northerly wind in its turn died away,
there would be a few hours, and sometimes a day or two, of calm, when
there was not the least motion, and you might land on the rock; but it
was a delicate and dangerous proceeding, requiring great watchfulness,
for although there might be no wind at the spot, yet the wind blowing
at sea, miles distant, might in a few moments send in the ground swell
and cut off all hope of escape. As the north wind made no ground swell,
the rock could be approached on the south side, even when a moderate
north wind was blowing.
They were familiar with all these facts, and had accordingly chosen the
last of a norther, that had been blowing two days, and was dying away.
Some hours before day they arrived at the place--a large barren rock,
containing about three acres, with a little patch of grass on the
highest part of it, and a spring of pure water, that spouted up from
the crevices in the rock; a quantity of wild pea vines and bayberry
bushes were growing there, among which, in little hollows in the rock,
the sea-gulls laid their eggs, without any attempt at a nest.
As they neared the rock, they sailed through whole flocks of sea-birds;
some of them, asleep on the water, with their heads beneath their
wings, took no notice of them; others, as they heard the slight ripple
made by the vessel’s bows, flew or swam to a short distance, and then
remained quiet.
Not a word was spoken save in whisper, when, at a short distance
outside the rock, the sails were gently lowered, and the anchor
silently dropped without a splash to the bottom. The “decoys,” that
is, wooden blocks made and painted in imitation of sea-birds, and the
guns, were put into the canoe, and landing in a little cove, they
gently hauled the canoe upon the sea-weed, and anchored their decoys
with lines and stones a little way from the rock, so as to present the
appearance of a flock of sea-fowl feeding, and, lying down, awaited
daybreak.
The sea-fowl lie outside during the night, but as the day breaks they
begin to fly into the bay after food and water, and when they see the
decoys, they light down among them and are shot; they are also shot on
the wing as they fly over; and in those days they were very numerous
among all the rocks and islands.
It was a terribly wild and desolate place; the tide at half ebb
revealed the rock in its full proportions; on the shore side it ran out
into long, broken points, ragged and worn, with innumerable holes and
fissures, fringed with kelp, whose dark-red leaves, matted with green,
lay upon the surface of the water; while on the ocean side, the long,
upright cliffs dropped plump into the sea, and were covered with a
peculiar kind of sea-weed, short, because, worn by the ceaseless action
of the waves, it had no time to grow: all impressed the mind with a
singular feeling of loneliness and desolation.
These hardy men, born among the surf, and by no means given to
sentiment, could not repress a feeling of awe, as they lay there
silent, and listened to the roar of the sea, that rolled in eddies of
white foam among the ragged points, being raised by the north wind,
while on the other side there was not a motion.
There is something in the hoarse roar of the surf, when heard in the
dead hours of night on such a spot, that is more than sublime--it is
cruel, relentless. As we listen to it in such a place, from which
there is more than a possibility that we may not escape, we realize
how impotent is the strength or skill of man against the terrific rush
of waters. We call to mind how many death-cries that sullen roar has
drowned, how many mighty ships that gray foam has ground to powder, and
look narrowly to see if the giant that thus moans in his slumbers is
not about to rouse himself for our destruction. Yet to strong natures
there is an indescribable charm that clings to places and perils like
these, and does not fade away with the occasion, but lives in the
memory ever after. These men could have shot sea-fowl enough near home,
without fatigue or peril; but that very safety would have diminished
the pleasure.
It was evident that thoughts similar to those we have described were
passing through Ben’s mind.
He said, in a whisper, “Uncle Isaac, do you suppose the sea ever breaks
over here?”
“I suppose it does,” was the reply; “but only when a very high tide and
a gale of wind come together. Old Mr. Sam Edwards came on here once
in November, and his canoe broke her painter and got away from him,
and he had to stay ten days, when a vessel took him off; but they had
a desperate time to get him; and when they got him he couldn’t speak.
He piled up a great heap of rocks to stand upon, to make signals to
vessels, and to keep the wind off; and when he went on the next spring
they were gone.”
“But there is white clover growing here, and red-top, which shows that
the salt water cannot come very often, nor stay very long when it does
come.”
It was now getting towards day; they had three guns apiece, which they
loaded, and placed within reach of their hands. As the day broke, the
birds began to come, first scattering, then in flocks; as they came on,
they continued to fire as fast as they could load, the birds falling by
dozens into the water, until the birds were done flying, the sun being
well up.
They now took the canoe and picked up the dead and wounded birds, many
of the latter requiring a second shot, then going on board the schooner
with their booty, got their breakfast, after which they ran off ten
miles to sea, on to a shoal, to try for codfish; and as they had
menhaden and herring for bait, they caught them in plenty.
“Halloo!” said Ben; “I’ve got a halibut; stand by, father, with the
gaff.”
They caught three more in the course of the forenoon. After dinner they
split and salted their fish, and cutting out the nape and fins of the
halibut, threw all the rest away, as in those days they did not think
it worth saving.
“Now,” said Uncle Isaac, “what do you think of having a night at the
hake?”
They ran into muddy bottom near to the rock, anchored, and lay down to
sleep till dark, and then began to catch hake. The hake is a fish that
feeds on the muddy bottom, and bites best in the night.
Just before day they went on to the rock again, and shot more birds
than before. Uncle Isaac and the others were so much engrossed with
their sport, that they thought of nothing else. But Ben, who was
naturally vigilant, and had noticed that there was a little air of
wind to the south, and the sea had a different motion, kept his eye
upon it, and shoved the canoe to the edge of the water. All at once he
exclaimed, in startling tones,--
“To the boat! The sea is coming!”
They seized their guns, and sprang into the canoe.
“I’ll shove off,” said Ben.
Uncle Isaac and Captain Rhines took the oars, while Uncle Sam, on his
knees, was ready to bale out what water might come in.
The great black wave could now be seen rolling up higher and higher
as it came. Ben, giving the canoe a vigorous shove, which sent her
some yards from the rock, leaped in, and grasped the steering paddle,
keeping her directly on to meet the threatening wave. As she met it
and rose upon it, she stood almost upright; and for a moment it seemed
as if she would fall back and be dashed on the rock; but the powerful
strokes of the resolute oarsmen, added to the momentum she had already
attained, forced her up the ascent, and they were safe. Had they been
twice her length nearer the rock, they had been lost, as the sea,
arrested in its progress by the rock, “combed” (curled over), when
nothing could have saved them.
“A miss is as good as a mile,” said the captain, as he looked back and
saw the spot where they had so lately stood white with foam.
“I’ve left my best powder-horn,” said Ben.
“We’ve left a couple dozen of birds,” said Uncle Isaac; “but we’ve
enough without them.”
They now dressed the fish they had caught, went to sleep, and slept
till noon; then, as they had a fair wind home, debated, while sitting
in the little cabin, what they should do more.
“We have some bait left,” said Uncle Isaac; “we ought to do something
more.”
“Hark!” cried the captain, whose ear had caught a familiar sound;
“mackerel, as I am a sinner!”
Rushing on deck, they saw mackerel all around the vessel, leaping from
the water, their white bellies glancing in the sun. In a moment lines
were thrown over with bait, and soon numbers of them were flapping on
the deck.
It was now near sundown, the wind began to blow in fitful gusts, and
once in a while, amid the constant dash of waves, a great sea would
come and break with a roar far above the general dash of waters. But
they were too eager in the pursuit of their prize to heed the weather.
At length a few drops of rain falling on the captain’s bare arms caused
him to look up and around.
He instantly exclaimed,--
“Haul in your lines; we must be out of this; we are full near enough to
these breakers to have them under our lee, and night coming on.”
It was a most perilous position to the eye of a landsman, and not
without risk to them. The vessel was rolling heavily at her anchor less
than a quarter of a mile from the rock, and abreast of the middle and
highest part of it, while its long, shoal points stretched out each
way for more than a mile, white with foam; the whole ground also, for
three or four miles around the rock, was full of shoal spots and sunken
reefs, which made a bad, irregular sea; and the roar from so many
breakers was terrible. But if there is anything that will do its duty
in a heavy head-beat sea, it is an old-fashioned pinkie.
As the little craft, gathering way, came up to the wind, the sea poured
in floods over her bows, while, with whole sail and her lee rail under
water, she jumped through it, and gradually drew off from the dangerous
reefs.
Leaving the long reefs to the leeward, they now kept away before it
with a fair wind for home. Taking in all but the foresail, they went
along under moderate sail, that they might split their fish as they
went, and before dark.
When they reached the island, it was quite dusk. The sea was pouring
in sheets of foam upon the rocks, and the white froth, drifting to
leeward, had filled the main channel; so that to enter it seemed, to
an inexperienced eye, to be rushing into the very jaws of destruction;
but, as they dashed along by the very edge of the surf that fringed the
“Junk of Pork,” just when the little vessel, rising on the crest of a
tremendous wave, seemed to be rushing directly on the rocks, Ben, who
stood at the fore-sheet, hauled it aft, the captain put down his helm,
and the vessel, luffing up, shot through the froth and around the point
into the quiet harbor in front of the house. Uncle Isaac let go the
anchor, and in a moment she was peacefully riding where there was not
a ripple, with the roar of surf all around her, and bunches of white
froth drifting lazily alongside.
It is these strong contrasts which make the charm of life along shore,
and that so attach rugged spirits to the sea; and though those who live
among these scenes do not talk about them as others do, who seldom
witness them, yet they feel them, and they are a part of their life.
Taking out the birds and guns, they put them into the canoe to take on
shore. Charlie met them there, and was dumb with astonishment at the
sight of so many birds.
They were wet, tired, cold, and hungry, for they had been fishing day
and night; but as they entered the house, all was changed. A blazing
fire was roaring in the great chimney, and flinging its cheerful light
on the bright pewter on the dressers and snow-white floor.
The table stood in the floor, covered with smoking victuals, and
Sally, with her handsome face shining with joy, stood ready to greet
her husband. Sailor was at her side, wagging his tail with frantic
violence, ready to jump upon his master as soon as Sally should release
him. There were also warm water, soap, and towels to wash the “gurry”
from their hands, and the salt of the spray from their faces. Great was
the physical and mental happiness of these tired, hungry men, as they
sat down to eat, conscious that they had succeeded in their efforts,
and obtained the means of comfort and support for their families.
Perhaps some of our readers may think it strange that Ben should want
to go fishing when he had been engaged in that business all summer; but
the fish caught in the hot weather were salted very heavily, in order
to keep them, and that they might bear exportation to all parts of the
world; but these were to be slack salted for their own use.