When the meal was concluded, the boys all surrounded Ben, and Charlie laid the whole matter before him. To their great delight and no little surprise, Ben gave his unqualified assent, told them they had a great and difficult enterprise before them, but that he admired their resolution, and to go ahead. When he concluded, there was a dead silence. Charlie was completely nonplussed, for he had arranged a series of arguments to meet the objections he supposed his father would make; and though he hoped, with the aid of his mother, to carry the point, he expected and was prepared to exert his powers of persuasion to the utmost. This hearty approval quite disconcerted him, and he was very much in the situation of Uncle Isaac, when he took Sally over to Elm Island to see her future home, prepared for tears, and, to his utter amazement, was greeted with a hearty, ringing laugh.

“But, father,” asked Charlie, “do you think we’ve got money enough?”

“Yes, indeed, plenty to begin with; you’ve got enough, upon the largest calculations, to set her up, plank her, get out all your deck plank, water-ways and spars, and have them seasoning;” and without paying the least attention to Charlie’s “ifs” and “ands,” Ben went right on, to inquire where he was going to build her.

“At my shore,” was the reply.

“But,” said Isaac, “ought we not, I especially, to ask your father’s advice? He was my earliest friend, set me agoing, and has always been interested in me. I shouldn’t have been alive to-day if it had not been for him.”

“Certainly; but he will approve of it; so we can go on and talk.”

“Mr. Rhines,” said Fred, “isn’t she a monster?”

“No, Fred, not one whit too large to carry lumber or molasses; she won’t be as big as the Ark; and the English mast and timber ships that come to Wiscasset and Portsmouth, are seven hundred tons and rising.”

“Isn’t she large for a sloop, sir?”

“Yes, but, as Isaac says, it will cost less to rig her, take less men to handle her, and if you find she don’t work well, you can stick another mast in her any time. Boys, let me plan a little for you; build her here, Charlie.”

“O, father, what an awful job it would be to bring all the timber from Pleasant Point, over here! and how much it would cost!”

“It won’t cost near as much as it would to build her there. If you build her there, all you’ve got is the timber; you must build a house to live in with a chimney, and even if it is a log house, it will cost something; you must hire or buy cattle to haul your timber, hay to keep them on, and somebody to cook for you. I’ve got a piece of land that I want cleared: if you will fall the whole piece for me, you can take your timber out of it. I’ll board your men for less than it would cost you to board them, a great deal; you and John won’t have to pay any board, for you’ll be at home.”

“But it’s pine timber, father.”

“Well, build her of pine; the trees are big enough to hew all the sap off, and it will last as long as you want her to, and she will be so buoyant you can’t load her.”

“But,” said Isaac, “the keel, stem, stern-post, and keelson must be hard wood, or oak.”

“Well, there’s hard wood enough for that on the lot; there’s rock maple for keel, yellow birch for keelson, stem and stern knees, and spruce for knees above. Charlie can get oak stem, stern-post, breast-hooks, or any other particular sticks for bitts or rudder he may want, at Pleasant Point.”

“I never heard of a vessel being built of pine,” said Charlie.

“I have; the Russians build all their frigates of fir, that ain’t one quarter as good. There was a brig built at Salem of pine before the war, and I’ve heard she’s a capital vessel; she has been to India three or four times, and they say, though she is sharp, she is so light she carries first rate. This old-growth, thin sap, pumpkin pine will outlast any oak, and won’t eat up the iron, nor cost near as much to work it.”

“That’s so: there would be a great difference between dubbing pine and oak, or in sawing out plank with a whip-saw.”

“So there would in hewing, and all through; there’s nothing better for beams than a heart of hemlock.”

“O, father, folks think hemlock ain’t worth anything.”

“They will think differently one of these days: see how long a hemlock stub will stand, or a windfall last, in the woods. There’s hemlock rails in our fence, that my grandfather put there more than a hundred years ago; they are worn thin in the weather, but are just as sound as ever. It’s all a notion about oak. Unless you want to build a vessel of six or seven hundred tons, to carry iron, salt, or stone, pine is just as good only make it larger.”

“I’m sure, father, it would be a great deal better for us to build her here, and we are all very much obliged to you.”

The others all expressed their gratitude to Ben.

“There are other things,” said he, “that will be quite an object with you: here is a good work-shop to shoot treenails, keep your tools in, and to work in rainy days. There’s the barn floor, where you can use the whip-saw in the winter if you want to; then here are six great fat oxen, doing nothing, that you can take to haul your timber, which will all come down hill, and you can haul it as well on bare ground as on the snow. Here is a whip-saw, a cross-cut saw, and a threefold tackle; thus, you see there are many advantages in building here rather than in the woods; besides, if I am round, you can call on me when you have a hard lift or a wale piece to lug; you can give me a lift in haying or hoeing, and that will be a mutual benefit.”

“We’ll do that, father; we’ll put the haying through.”

After the boys went up to bed, they expressed in no measured terms, to each other, their surprise at the readiness with which Ben had entered into their plans, and our readers may also feel the same; but the fact was, the boys had merely anticipated purposes which had for some time occupied the thoughts of Captain Rhines, Uncle Isaac, and Ben, and, indeed, been a matter of conversation between them.

They had long cherished the desire to make their property a source of benefit to their neighbors, the place where they lived, and the young men growing up around them. Captain Rhines wanted to take advantage of the facilities for ship-building furnished by the forests, and give to the young men growing up lucrative employment at home. He had, therefore, watched with great interest the development of Charlie’s capacities in that direction, and for the same reason did all in his power to train Isaac, not merely in the matter of seamanship, but also to inculcate those principles of integrity more valuable than silver or gold; and he was more pleased than he cared to show when John wanted to learn the trade of a blacksmith.

“When these boys get older,” said the captain to Ben and Uncle Isaac, “we’ll raise our own mechanics and seamen, and make the place what it ought to be.”

Thus, in Ben’s opinion, it mattered very little whether the boys had half money enough or not. He was pleased with their grit, told them to go ahead, intending, whenever their means failed, to help them out. The boys met with the like encouragement from Captain Rhines and Uncle Isaac, none of them aware, however, of the compact the boys had entered into to receive no aid, or dreaming that they would refuse it if proffered.

Captain Rhines now drew up their building contract in due form, although it was good for nothing in law, since no one of them was of age, except Isaac, and he but just twenty-one, though he called the others boys.

“Now, Mary,” said Captain Rhines, rubbing his hands, after the boys had gone, “we’ve got all our chickens at home once more, and we shall see what they will do.”

The boys lost no time in giving him the desired information.

The birch they were going to build on Indian Island, the pickerel they were to catch in Charlie’s pond, the bears they were to kill, and exploring expeditions to be undertaken, were forgotten, driven from their minds by the expulsive power of this new affection.

It is not our design to enter into the details of ship-building. Boys, if they want to build ships, must begin with boats, and go into the ship-yard, as Charlie did, where they will find competent instructors. We intend merely to give such details as may note the progress made, and show the indomitable energy of those who laid the foundations of our commerce, the difficulties with which they were compelled to struggle, and the rude beginnings from which the fleet, and beautiful specimens of naval architecture that now grace our seaports, have grown.

There was no scientific draughting of vessels then. No close models, or even rack models. There were, indeed, among carpenters, some few general principles; but the whole shaping of the vessel was by the eye, judgment, guess-work.

Let us see how Charlie went to work; for it was not much like the way ship-builders go to work now, and quite original. He took a piece of board, a little over two feet in length by one in width, and planed it perfectly smooth. This he dignified with the name of a draughting-board, although, as we proceed, our readers may think there was very little draughting about it. Charlie dearly loved a sharp model. He wanted something that would sail. His first model was a mackerel. His first efforts in boat-building had all been in that direction, and were successful. His tastes would have been gratified had he been set to build a clipper or a pilot-boat. He was now compelled to do violence to these inclinations, by stern necessity to abjure all ideas of grace and beauty, consult only profit, and build this “box,” as he termed her. He was not devoid of experience in this direction. It was just the kind of vessel he had worked upon in Portland, designed for the same business, with the exception that there were some attempts at finish about them, the wales and bulwarks being foreplaned. In the cabin was some joiner-work; the wales and bulwarks were daubed with lampblack, fish-oil, and red ochre, but the bottom was left rough, and pitched. Here their means would admit of no such attempt at ornament.

Captain Rhines and Ben had determined to allow the boys to proceed entirely in their own way, giving no advice till it was asked, nor offering to aid till they were in extremity.

Charlie was by no means inclined to adopt notions without examination. He knew from the report of all the sea captains that the vessels Mr. Foss built, though carrying enormous cargoes, and profitable, were, when deep loaded,—and that was nearly all the time,—terrible things to steer and live in, and would not sail much more than a raft, and thought he knew the reason. They were so full aft, and the transoms so low, that when this great buttock was brought into the water by a heavy cargo, they could not be otherwise than unmanageable. The bilge also went up with a square turn, resembling a scow. Without presuming to criticise, Charlie, while at work, had been constantly revolving these matters in his mind, listening to the criticisms made, and the improvements suggested, by masters and seamen. He knew the Perseverance sailed well and steered well, no matter whether she was deep or light, and so did his boats.

“I’ll see if I can’t make her steer and sail a little better than a log, and carry just as much,” said Charlie, as he sat under the big maple with the board on his knees, a piece of chalk and compasses in his hand. “I’ll give her a round side, instead of a square knuckle.”

He at length determined, while giving her a long floor and large breadth of beam, to cut through at the bow and stern, and sharpen the ends something like his boats, instead of keeping them full, like the vessels he had worked on. Upon a scale of a quarter of an inch to a foot, he drew lines to represent his keel, stem, and stern-post. He then marked on the keel the dead rise amidships, forward, and aft, and with a limber batten drew a line through these points, forming a true sweep. This he called the rising line. On this line he divided up the rise on every timber, giving a very long floor, kept well out forward; next marked on the keel the length of his floor at the midships, forward and after frames, drew a line through these points, which he called his shortening line, to regulate the length of the floor timbers, and also dividing them up on this line, marked the respective lengths by letters of the alphabet, as he had their dead rise by numbers; marked on perpendiculars drawn from the keel the breadth both amidships, forward, and aft, and the depth, and drew a line through these points, representing the shape of the top and the hanging wale. The curve of the stem and the rake of the stern-post not suiting him, he rubbed out his work, and drew it again and again, till he was satisfied; then went to the shop, and with a pencil and dividers, took it off on the other side of the board, making some little further alterations. These three lines on a board were all that Charlie had to guide him, as far as lines were concerned, in building his vessel. He now wanted to represent the round of the side, that he might see how it would look on a larger scale than he could if on a board, and took a queer method to obtain his end.

At the mouth of the brook was a flat, smooth beach of white sand, so hard that when wet an ox would not print it with his foot. He tool a pole eighteen feet in length, drove a nail through one end of it, bored a hole in the other end, and made a long, pointed peg to fit it. He represented on the sand the actual length of the vessel, stem, stern, and floor timbers; then, fastening one end of the pole to the ground by the peg, in such a manner that it would revolve, he, by means of the nail in the other end, swept out the round of the whole side, till he got a shape to suit him, then took it off, and reducing it to a proper scale, transferred it to his board.

His draughting, such as it was, being thus finished, he was prepared, having the proportions and dimensions, to make his moulds.