Read Ebook: Frank the Young Naturalist by Castlemon Harry

Font size: 10 px 15 px 20 px 25 px 30 px 35 px

Background color: BlackWhiteGrayLight GrayDark GrayDim Gray

Text color: BlackWhiteGrayLight GrayDark GrayDim Gray

Apply/Save settings

Ebook has 1286 lines and 54611 words, and 26 pages

"So it is, intirely," said Mike, as he divested himself of his coat, and commenced rolling up his shirt-sleeves. "Allow me to lend yer a helpin' hand." And, taking the painter from Frank's hand, he drew the scow out of the water, high upon the bank. He then placed his strong arms under one side of the boat, and Frank took hold of the other, and, lifting together, they raised it from the ground, and placed it upon the wheelbarrow. "Now, Master Frank," said Mike, "if you will take hold and steady her, I'll wheel her up to the shop for you."

Frank accordingly placed his hands upon the boat in such a manner that he could keep her steady and assist Mike at the same time; and the latter, taking hold of the "handles," as he termed them, commenced wheeling her up the bank. The load was heavy, but Mike was a sturdy fellow, and the scow was soon at the door of the shop. Frank then placed several sticks of round wood, which he had brought out of the wood-shed, upon the ground, about three feet apart, to serve as rollers, and, by their united efforts, the Speedwell was placed upon her side on these rollers, and in a few moments was left bottom upward on the floor of the shop.

A Race on the Water.

A week passed, and the Speedwell again rode proudly at her moorings, in front of the cottage; but her appearance was greatly changed. A "center-board" and several handy lockers had been neatly fitted up in her, and her long, low hull painted black on the outside and white on the inside; and her tall, raking mast and faultless rigging gave her quite a ship-like appearance.

Frank had just been putting on a few finishing touches, and now stood on the wharf admiring her. It was almost night, and consequently he could not try her sailing qualities that day; and he was so impatient to discover whether or not he had made a failure, that it seemed impossible for him to wait.

While he was thus engaged, he heard the splashing of oars, and, looking up, discovered two boys rowing toward him in a light skiff As they approached, he recognized George and Harry Butler, two of his most intimate acquaintances. They were brothers, and lived about a quarter of a mile from Mrs. Nelson's, but they and Frank were together almost all the time. Harry, who was about a year older than Frank, was a very impulsive fellow, and in a moment of excitement often said and did things for which he felt sorry when he had time to think the matter over; but he was generous and good-hearted, and if he found that he had wronged any one, he never failed to make ample reparation. George, who was just Frank's age, was a jolly, good-natured boy, and would suffer almost any indignity rather than retaliate.

"Well, Frank," said Harry, as soon as they came within speaking distance, "George and I wanted a little exercise, so we thought we would row up and see what had become of you. Why don't you come down and see a fellow? Hallo!" he exclaimed, on noticing the change in the Speedwell's appearance, "what have you been trying to do with your old scow?"

"Why, don't you see?" said Frank. "I've been trying to make a yacht out of her."

"How does she sail?" inquired George.

"I don't know. I have just finished her, and have not had time to try her sailing qualities yet."

"I don't believe she will sail worth a row of pins," said Harry, confidently, as he drew the skiff alongside the Speedwell, and climbed over into her. "But I'll tell you what it is," he continued, peeping into the lockers and examining the rigging, "you must have had plenty of hard work to do in fixing her over. You have really made a nice boat out of her."

"Yes, I call it a first-rate job," said George. "Did you make the sails yourself, Frank?"

"Yes," answered Frank. "I did all the work on her. She ought to be a good sailer, after all the trouble I've had. How would you like to spend an hour with me on the river to-morrow? You will then have an opportunity to judge for yourself."

The boys readily agreed to this proposal, and, after a few moments' more conversation, they got into their skiff and pulled down the creek. The next morning, about four o'clock, Frank awoke, and he had hardly opened his eyes before he was out on the floor and dressing. He always rose at this hour, both summer and winter; and he had been so long in the habit of it, that it had become a kind of second nature with him. Going to the window, he drew aside the curtain and looked out. The Speedwell rode safely at the wharf, gallantly mounting the swells which were raised by quite a stiff breeze that was blowing directly down the creek. He amused himself for about two hours in his shop; and after he had eaten his breakfast, he began to get ready to start on the proposed excursion. A large basket, filled with refreshments, was carefully stowed away in one of the lockers of the Speedwell, the sails were hoisted, the painter was cast off, and Frank took his seat at the helm, and the boat moved from the shore "like a thing of life." The creek was too narrow to allow of much maneuvering, and Frank was obliged to forbear judging of her sailing qualities until he should reach the river. But, to his delight, he soon discovered one thing, and that was, that before the wind the Speedwell was no mean sailer. A few moments' run brought him to Mr. Butler's wharf, where he found George and Harry waiting for him. Frank brought the Speedwell around close to the place where they were standing in splendid style, and the boys could not refrain from expressing their admiration at the handsome manner in which she obeyed her helm. They clambered down into the boat, and seated themselves on the middle thwarts, where they could assist Frank in managing the sails, and in a few moments they reached the river.

"There comes Bill Johnson!" exclaimed George, suddenly, "just behind the Long Dock."

The boys looked in the direction indicated, and saw the top of the masts and sails of a boat which was moving slowly along on the other side of the dock.

"Now, Frank," said Harry, "turn out toward the middle of the river, and get as far ahead of him as you can, and see if we can't reach the island before he does."

Frank accordingly turned the Speedwell's head toward the island, and just at that moment the sail-boat came in sight. The Champion--for that was her name--was classed among the swiftest sailers about Lawrence; in fact, there was no sloop that could beat her. She was a clinker-built boat, about seventeen feet long, and her breadth of beam--that is, the distance across her from one side to the other--was great compared with her length. She was rigged like Frank's boat, having one mast and carrying a mainsail and jib; but as her sails were considerably larger than those of the Speedwell, and as she was a much lighter boat, the boys all expected that she would reach the island, which the young skippers always regarded as "home" in their races, long before the Speedwell. The Champion was sailed by two boys. William Johnson, her owner, sat in the stern steering, and Ben. Lake, a quiet, odd sort of a boy, sat on one of the middle thwarts managing the sails. As soon as she rounded the lock, Harry Butler sprang to his feet, and, seizing a small coil of rope that lay in the boat, called out,

"Bill! if you will catch this line, we'll tow you."

"No, I thank you," answered William. "I think we can get along very well without any of your help."

"Yes," chimed in Ben. Lake, "and we'll catch you before you are half-way to the island."

"We'll see about that!" shouted George, in reply.

George and Harry shouted and hurrahed until they were hoarse, and Frank was so overjoyed that he could scarcely speak.

"How she sails!" exclaimed Harry. "If the Champion beats this, she will have to go faster than she does now."

Their pursuers were evidently much surprised at this sudden exhibition of the Speedwell's "sailing qualities;" and William hauled more to the wind and "crowded" his boat until she stood almost on her side, and the waves frequently washed into her.

"They will overtake us," said Frank, at length; "but I guess we can keep ahead of them until we cross the river."

And so it proved. The Champion began to gain--it was very slowly, but still she did gain--and when the Speedwell had accomplished half the distance across the river, their pursuers were not more than three or four rods behind.

At length they reached the island, and, as they rounded the point, they came to a spot where the wind was broken by the trees. The Speedwell gradually slackened her headway, and the Champion, which could sail much faster than she before a light breeze, gained rapidly, and soon came alongside.

"There is only one fault with your boat, Frank," said William; "her sails are too small. She can carry twice as much canvas as you have got on her now."

"Yes," answered Frank, "I find that I have made a mistake; but the fact is, I did not know how she would behave, and was afraid she would capsize. My first hard work shall be to make some new sails."

"You showed us a clean pair of heels, any way," said Ben. Lake, clambering over into the Speedwell. "Why, how nice and handy every thing is! Every rope is just where you can lay your hand on it."

"Let's go ashore and see how we are off for a crop of strawberries," said Harry.

William had pulled down his sails when he came alongside, and while the conversation was going on the Speedwell had been towing the Champion toward the island, and, just as Harry spoke, their bows ran high upon the sand. The boys sprang out, and spent two hours in roaming over the island in search of strawberries; but it was a little too early in the season for them, and, although there were "oceans" of green ones, they gathered hardly a pint of ripe ones.

After they had eaten the refreshments which Frank had brought with him, they started for home. As the wind blew from the main shore, they were obliged to "tack," and the Speedwell again showed some fine sailing, and when the Champion entered the creek, she was not a stone's throw behind.

Frank reached home that night a good deal elated at his success. After tying the Speedwell to the wharf, he pulled down the sails and carried them into his shop. He had promised, before leaving George and Harry, to meet them at five o'clock the next morning to start on a fishing excursion, and, consequently, could do nothing toward the new sails for his boat for two days.

A Fishing Excursion.

Precisely at the time agreed upon, Frank might have been seen sitting on the wharf in front of Mr. Butler's house. In his hand he carried a stout, jointed fish-pole, neatly stowed away in a strong bag of drilling, and under his left arm hung his fish-basket, suspended by a broad belt, which crossed his breast. In this he carried his hooks, reels, trolling-lines, dinner, and other things necessary for the trip. Brave stood quietly by his side, patiently waiting for the word to start. They were not obliged to wait long, for hasty steps sounded on the gravel walk that led up to the house, the gate swung open, and George and Harry appeared, their arms filled with their fishing-tackle.

"You're on time, I see," said Harry, as he climbed down into a large skiff that was tied to the wharf, "Give us your fish-pole."

Frank accordingly handed his pole and basket down to Harry, who stowed them away in the boat. He and George then went into the boat-house, and one brought out a pair of oars and a sail, which they intended to use if the wind should be fair, and the other carried two pails of minnows, which had been caught the night before, to serve as bait.

They then got into the boat, and Frank took one oar and Harry the other, and Brave stationed himself at his usual place in the bow. George took the helm, and they began to move swiftly down the creek toward the river. About a quarter of a mile below the mouth of the creek was a place, covering half an acre, where the water was about four feet deep, and the bottom was covered with smooth, flat stones. This was known as the "black-bass ground," and large numbers of these fish were caught there every season. George turned the boat's head toward this place, and, thrusting his hand into his pocket, drew out a "trolling-line," and, dropping the hook into the water behind the boat, began to unwind the line. The trolling-hook can be used only in a strong current, or when the boat is in rapid motion through the water. The hook is concealed by feathers or a strip of red flannel, and a piece of shining metal in the shape of a spoon-bowl is fastened to it in such a manner as to revolve around it when the hook is drawn rapidly through the water. This is fastened to the end of a long, stout line, and trailed over the stern of the boat, whose motion keeps it near the surface. It can be seen for a great distance in the water, and the fish, mistaking it for their prey, dart forward and seize it.

A few moments' pulling brought them to the bass ground, and George, holding the stick on which the line had been wound in his hand, waited impatiently for a "bite." They had hardly entered the ground when several heavy pulls at the line announced that the bait had been taken. George jerked in return, and, springing to his feet, commenced hauling in the line hand over hand, while whatever was at the other end jerked and pulled in a way that showed that he was unwilling to approach the surface. The boys ceased rowing, and Frank exclaimed,

"You've got a big one there, George. Don't give him any slack, or you'll lose him."

"Haul in lively," chimed in Harry. "There he breaches!" he continued, as the fish--a fine bass, weighing, as near as they could guess, six pounds--leaped entirely out of the water in his mad efforts to escape. "I tell you he's a beauty."

Frank took up the "dip-net," which the boys had used in catching the minnows, and, standing by George's side, waited for him to bring the fish within reach, so that he might assist in "landing" him. The struggle was exciting, but short. The bass was very soon exhausted, and George drew him alongside the boat, in which he was soon safely deposited under one of the seats.

They rowed around the ground for half an hour, each taking his turn at the line, and during that time they captured a dozen fish. The bass then began to stop biting; and Frank, who was at the helm, turned the boat toward the "perch-bed," which was some distance further down the river. It was situated at the outer edge of a bank of weeds, which lined the river on both sides. The weeds sprouted from the bottom in the spring, and by fall they reached the hight of four or five feet above the surface of the water. They were then literally swarming with wild ducks; but at the time of which we write, as it was only the latter part of June, they had not yet appeared above the water. The perch-bed was soon reached, and Harry, who was pulling the bow-oar, rose to his feet, and, raising the anchor, which was a large stone fastened to the boat by a long, stout rope, lifted it over the side, and let it down carefully into the water. The boat swung around until her bow pointed up stream, and the boys found themselves in the right spot to enjoy a good day's sport.

Frank, who was always foremost in such matters, had his pole rigged in a trice, and, baiting his hook with one of the minnows, dropped it into the water just outside of the weeds. Half a dozen hungry perch instantly rose to the surface, and one of them, weighing nearly a pound, seized the bait and darted off with it, and the next moment was dangling through the air toward the boat.

"That's a good-sized fish," said Harry, as he fastened his reel on his pole.

"Yes," answered Frank, taking his prize off the hook and throwing it into the boat; "and we shall have fine sport for a little while."

"But they will stop biting when the sun gets a little warmer; so we had better make the most of our time," observed George.

"Boys," he exclaimed, "here comes Charley Morgan!"

"Charley Morgan," repeated Frank. "Who is he?"

Share on: WhatsApp @Hash Facebook Tweet