CHAPTER XXVI.

PROGRESS.

Charlie now possessed what in those days was considered a handsome

property.

As the spring came on, he made sugar, and determined to cut and burn

the growth of white maple, birch, and ash that covered the flat, that

he might have field pasturage, and indulge his taste for farming. But

his plans were brought to a sudden termination, and the land was to be

cleared in a manner quite different from that which he had anticipated.

About four o’clock one afternoon, as he and Ricker were grinding their

axes, in preparation for the morrow, Ben, Captain Rhines, Uncle Isaac,

and Fred landed in the cove. As Charlie went to meet them, Fred held up

a letter.

“We’ve come to set you to work,” said Captain Rhines. “We were afraid

that, living here by yourself, with plenty of money, you would get

rusty and lazy.”

“I was afraid I should myself, and so am getting ready to go into the

woods. Come, go into the house, all of you.”

The letter was from Isaac. He was at Cadiz, waiting for a cargo of salt.

“He says he wants a larger vessel; that the demand is for large spars

for men-of-war, lower masts, yards, and bowsprits; that he can’t carry

them in that vessel, and that the few he did carry he had to run over

the rail forward and aft, and he liked to have lost his vessel going

out by one getting adrift.”

“How large a vessel does he want, Captain Rhines?” asked Charlie.

“Seven hundred tons,--a proper mast ship,--large enough to carry

real whoppers, one hundred and eight feet long and thirty-six inches

through, with a port at each end big enough to drive in a yoke of oxen.”

Neither Charlie, nor even Fred, who thought the Hard-Scrabble a monster

for size, seemed startled by this.

“Is he in a hurry for her?”

“No; he said he wanted you to be thinking about it; and he will let the

masts alone, and take fish, boards, and staves to Madeira, or some of

the Danish islands.”

“I will go to cutting the timber to-morrow. I’d rather cut it into

ship-timber than burn it. It won’t be fifty rods from the yard. As I am

clearing, I can save what I come across, and set up the vessel in the

fall, if he is in no hurry. Who’ll be the owners?”

“Mr. Welch, Ben, Uncle Isaac, myself, and you ‘Hard-Scrabble boys.’

There’s eight of us. We’ll all own alike. Give her a hard-wood floor,

white oak top, buy the timber of you, and take her at the bills.”

“I’m agreed. What’s the dimensions?”

“I’ve got them here. Isaac has seen an English mast ship out there, and

sent home her proportions. But you must build a two-story frame-house

first to lodge your men. You’ll want fifty or sixty men before you get

through.”

“I can get along with a log house--make it bigger. Some can sleep in

the barn in warm weather. I want something else a great deal more than

I do a frame-house.”

“What is that?” asked Ben.

“A saw-mill right on this brook, where I can saw all my deck, ceiling,

outboard plank, and waterways.”

“That’s a fact,” said Uncle Isaac. “I go in for a mill. I’ll build in

it, and work on it.”

“I hope you won’t have a wooden crank,” said Fred.

“Nor tread back with the foot,” said Ben, “like this old rattle-trap on

the river.”

“There’s water and fall enough,” said Captain Rhines; “and we’ll

have an iron crank if we send to England for it, and all the modern

improvements. I move that Charlie, Ricker, Yelf, and Joe Griffin go

to work hewing the timber; and that we send Uncle Isaac off to the

westward to learn the new improvements, and come home and build it.”

Having agreed upon all these matters, they separated; and that is what

became of Charlie’s farming that year.

The pond, of which the brook was an outlet, furnishing a steady supply

of water, not affected by droughts, offered a splendid mill privilege.

The dam was almost built by nature, and the labor of constructing the

whole was greatly lessened, as the timber grew upon the spot.

Instead of going to work upon the mill, Charlie, who knew that the

moment it was noised abroad that a mill was to be built on the outlet

to Beaver Pond, the price of timber land in the immediate vicinity

would rise, started off to Portsmouth, where the proprietor lived, and

bought the whole lot, between him and Joe Griffin, which was heavily

timbered with pine and hard wood. It was not the desire of speculation

that influenced him: he wanted ship-timber, spars, and lumber, and

didn’t want to strip all the forest from his home farm. Charlie loved

the trees: a bare and barren landscape had no charms for him.

Uncle Isaac did not go to the westward to see the new improvements, but

to Thomaston, where General Knox (with whom he was acquainted, having

served under him in the war of independence) was building mills, and

making all kinds of improvements.

The general, who was a noble, hospitable man, received Uncle Isaac most

cordially, took him to his house, and gave him every facility in his

power. He looked over the mills, made his observations, and took plans

of the machinery, came home, and went to work.

Ricker now proved a most valuable man: he had been accustomed to mill

work, and knew how to take care of a saw. Since his reformation, he had

renewed his engagement, broken off by his loose habits. He went home,

got married, took charge of the mill, and went to sawing out plank for

the vessel.

Charlie built a first-rate frame blacksmith’s shop, with a brick

chimney. John came home, bringing a complete set of tools.

Fred was fully occupied in getting fish ready to send in the

“Hard-Scrabble” to Madeira, and exceedingly interested in some timber

Ricker was sawing to order in the mill, and a cellar Uncle Sam Elwell

was stoning not far from his store.

It was snapping times now all round, everybody on the clean jump from

morning to night. The mill was going night and day, and the short click

of the saw rang in the still midnight through the old woods, that had

before echoed only to the war-whoop of the red man, or the blows of the

settler’s axe.

The younger portion of the community were wide awake, ready for

anything, and a spirit of emulation was rife among them. Walter

Griffin, Fred’s clerk, kicked out of the traces at once; he went to

Fred, and said, “Mr. Williams, I must leave.”

“Leave!” cried Fred, in amazement. “What for?”

“I want to go to sea.”

Fred more than liked Walter: he loved him; he was a splendid boy,

industrious, trustworthy, and smart; but his wrist-joints were three

inches below the sleeve of his jacket, for his mother couldn’t make

clothes as fast as he grew.

“Why, Walter, I didn’t dream of your ever leaving me. I want you, when

you are older, to go into business with me. Don’t you like me?”

The tears came into the boy’s eyes in a moment.

“_Like_ you, Mr. Williams! My own father ain’t nearer to me: you’ve

done everything for me; but, Mr. Williams, I never was made to weigh

flour, measure molasses and cloth; it don’t agree with our kind of

people. I can’t stand it; I shall die: indeed I can’t.”

“But you wouldn’t leave me now, when I have so much to do?”

“Not by any means, sir. I don’t want to go till the big ship is done.”

“I think you’ll miss it, Walter.”

“I don’t, sir. I don’t see why I can’t do as well at sea as Isaac

Murch. I’ll leave it to Uncle Isaac.”

“Uncle Isaac, he’s always ready to shove any boy ahead.”

“Didn’t you like to have him shove you ahead when you was a boy, sir?”

That was a thrust which Fred knew not how to parry, and he was silent.

“Don’t feel so bad, Mr. Williams. My brother William is only eighteen

months younger than I am; he would like to come in here, and would get

well broke in before I shall want to go.”

“But he’s a Griffin, too,” said Fred, despondingly, “and will clear out

just as he becomes useful.”

When the ship was ready for sea, half the boys in the neighborhood

wanted to go in her. Isaac took four, and several young men, who had

been some in coasters, as ordinary seamen.

She was called the Casco.

Fred was married to Elizabeth Rhines the day before she sailed, the

wedding being somewhat hastened, in order that Isaac might be present.

This was a most eventful year. Uncle Isaac, one Saturday night, created

surprise enough by riding down to the store with his wife in a wagon,

the first one that had ever been seen in the place.

“You’ve got yourself into business, Isaac,” said the captain. “Either

you or Charlie have got to make me one this winter.”

“Then I must do it, Benjamin; for Charlie’s got enough to do this

winter to take care of that baby.”

Seth Warren assumed command of the Hard-Scrabble, that still continued

to make money for her owners, who built more vessels, and acquired

property, of which they made a most praiseworthy use, in affording

employment to others, and doing all in their power to promote the

welfare of society; and the prosperity and happiness of hundreds

resulted from that pile of boards Captain Rhines navigated to Cuba; and

fleet and beautiful vessels, visiting the most distant seas, were the

successors of the Hard-Scrabble.

OLIVER OPTIC’S

ARMY and NAVY STORIES.

A Library for Young and Old, in six volumes. 16mo. Illustrated. Per

vol., $1.50.

=The Sailor Boy=, or Jack Somers in the Navy.

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=The Young Lieutenant=, or The Adventures of an Army Officer.

=Fighting Joe=, or the Fortunes of a Staff Officer.

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and vivacity about them which is very engaging to older readers.

The benefit which a young mind will obtain from reading the healthy

descriptions, full of zest and life, and, withal, containing a great

deal of very useful information, is almost incalculable.”--_Toledo

Blade._

=LEE & SHEPARD=, Publishers, Boston.

* * * * *

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MAGAZINE.

OLIVER OPTIC, Editor.

PUBLISHED IN WEEKLY AND MONTHLY PARTS.

Each number contains:

Part of a NEW STORY, by the Editor.

STORIES and SKETCHES, by popular authors.

An ORIGINAL DIALOGUE.

A DECLAMATION.

PUZZLES, REBUSES, &c.

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TERMS: $2.50 per Year; $1.25 for Six Months; 6 cts. per number.

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☞ =Remember, this Magazine contains more reading matter

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* * * * *

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Twelve volumes. Profusely illustrated from new designs by Billings. In

neat box.

Cloth. Per vol., =45c.=

Little Merchant.

Young Voyagers.

Christmas Gift.

Dolly and I.

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Birthday Party.

Proud and Lazy.

Careless Kate.

Robinson Crusoe, Jr.

The Picnic Party.

The Gold Thimble.

The Do-Somethings.

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is best.”--_News._

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* * * * *

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A Library of Travel and Adventure in Foreign Lands. 16mo. Illustrated

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SIX VOLS., ILLUST. PER VOL., $1.25.

* * * * *

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=Switch Off=; Or, The War of the Students.

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Oliver Optic owes his popularity to a pleasant style, and to a ready

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SIX VOLS., ILLUST. PER VOL., $1.25.

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are yet devouring them out in the summer-house (albeit autumn leaves

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Six vols. 16mo. Illustrated. Per vol., $1.25.

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Billy Grimes’s Favorite.

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thorough comprehension of the way to interest children.”--_Philadelphia

Item._

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it to the notice of Sabbath School Libraries.”--_Ladies’ Repository._

=LEE & SHEPARD=, Publishers, Boston.

* * * * *

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BY MRS. M. E. BRADLEY AND MISS KATE J. NEELY.

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Birds of a Feather.

Fine Feathers do Not make Fine Birds.

Handsome is that Handsome does.

A Wrong Confessed is half Redressed.

Actions speak louder than Words.

One Good Turn deserves another.

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deep interest, and afford instructive and entertaining conversation

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=LEE & SHEPARD=, Publishers, Boston.

[Transcriber’s Note:

Inconsistent spelling and hyphenation are as in the original.]

End of Project Gutenberg's The Hard-Scrabble of Elm Island, by Elijah Kellogg

The Hard-Scrabble of Elm Island · 第 26 / 26 章