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.

The Yellow-Boy

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:

In the second verse occur the lines:

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:

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:

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:

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."

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