Chambers's Journal of Popular Literature, Science, and Art, No. 689

CRUISING ON THE 'BROADS.'

One of the greatest charms in Nature is her infinite variety, as may be seen even without travelling beyond the limits of our island; almost every county has its own peculiar expression, differing like the differing expressions of the human face, and presenting, between the lofty grandeur of the Scotch mountains and the undulating luxuriance of Southern England, many gradations of form and colour.

In the eastern extremity of Norfolk there is a part almost entirely composed of lake, river, and marsh, known as the 'Broad District;' Broad being the local term for lake. The largest of those, Breydon Water, lies within the narrow neck of land on which Yarmouth is built; and towards this lake three rivers radiate from different directions – the Bure, the Waveney, and the Yare flowing from the ancient city of Norwich. The author of The Swan and her Crew2 tells us that 'the banks of the rivers are fringed with tall reeds, and they flow through miles of level marsh, where, as far as the eye can reach, there is nothing to be seen but the white sails of the yachts and the dark sails of the wherries, and occasional windmills, which are used for pumping the water out of the drains into the river.' Every here and there the rivers widen into broads, which are sometimes very large, and swarm with pike, perch, and numerous other fish. Those lakes are all very shallow, and can only be navigated by boats drawing little water; 'they are surrounded by a dense aquatic vegetation, reeds, rushes, flags, and bulrushes; and these are the haunts of many rare birds, and swarm with wild-fowl.'

With a view to navigating these shallow broads in an original way to facilitate the study of natural history, to hunt for the eggs of rare birds, to fish and shoot and otherwise investigate the wonders of the watery region, a boy of sixteen, named Frank Merivale, stands on the edge of Hickling Broad, deeply engaged in thought. At last a grand idea strikes him: he rushes up to the house, gets his father's permission to cut down a tree; and then laden with axes and ropes, he goes to get the help of his friend Jimmy Brett, who lives in an old-fashioned cottage near. The two boys proceed to the tree; and after long exertion, have the satisfaction of seeing the tall young larch fall over with a crash. Which business over, Jimmy insists on having his curiosity gratified by hearing what is to be done with the young larch; whereupon Frank unfolds his great project of building a yacht, a real yacht of their own, with which they might sail all over the broads and on the rivers, and naturalise and bird-nest, and enjoy no end of fun. The less sanguine Jimmy shakes his wise head; but Frank goes on with enthusiasm: 'What I propose is that we build a double yacht. We will make two long pontoons, and connect them by cross-pieces, on which we can lay a deck. Such a boat would not draw more than a foot of water; and to make her sail to windward, we should have a drop-keel or centre-board, which we could let down or draw up according to the depth of the water. Then I think a lug-sail and mizzen would suit her best; and we shall build her in old Bell's yard, and he will lend us such tools as we have not got.'

After a long discussion as to the plan and estimates of cost, the two would-be boat-builders, with a view to enlisting his aid, go on to see old Bell, who was a bit of a curiosity, uniting the two dissimilar trades of tailor and boat-builder. He was a close observer of the habits of animals, and could often give odd and useful information; and was a great favourite with the boys, as indeed they were with him. To this worthy they make known their grand scheme; and while not particularly sanguine of success, the old man promised to help as much as possible; and Frank in his impetuous way, at once begins clearing a space for the keel.

All the spare time is now spent in building the yacht; the two being joined by Dick Carlton, who being rather delicate, was encouraged by his father Sir Richard to join in the pastimes of his two young friends. First of all the pontoons are made, these being merely two long wooden boxes tapering off to a fine point at each end. Laid on the ground side by side, with a space of fully three feet between their centres, they are joined together by strong pieces of wood; while the seams are caulked with tow and a mixture of red and white lead, and protected by slips of wood nailed along them. The deck is next laid, and 'neatly finished off round the edges, with a bulwark of rope stretched on iron uprights.' A tiny cabin is erected, in which even the smallest of the crew will be unable to stand erect; but yachtsmen have to put up with many discomforts, and indeed a great deal of the pleasure consists in what is termed 'roughing it,' so three feet six inches is considered sufficiently lofty for the grand saloon. Two low broad seats are fitted up inside, which are also intended to serve as beds, should occasion require. A rudder and helm are attached to each pontoon, and connected by a cross-piece of wood, so that both might be worked at once; while two drop-keels occupy the space between the pontoons, and can be raised or lowered with the greatest ease. The mast also could be lowered whenever it might be necessary, in order to allow the boat to pass under low bridges.

To those who are interested in the details of such a craft as the Swan, the book furnishes ample information (full dimensions and all particulars being given). Suffice it to say, that after much perseverance and many grave difficulties, our amateur boat-builders, thanks to Frank's energy and skill, at length complete their work. The yacht is painted white; a tender in the shape of a punt is also built; and on a bright May morning all is ready for the launch, which important ceremony is fixed to take place at six o'clock on a Saturday morning. The three friends meet in Bell's yard, eager to send their handiwork upon the smooth glancing waters of the broad. But a name is yet wanting. 'Call her the Swan,' says Dick, remembering Wordsworth's lines; 'because, like the swan "on still Saint Mary's Lake," she will "float double."' The name is hailed with approval. The ceremony is most successful; and soon the craft floats out on the waves, and the three boys enjoy the rare pleasure of sailing in a boat of their very own making. A light wind springs up, which shortly increases to a pretty stiff breeze, and the Swan behaves to perfection, answering her helm so admirably that the three young sailors are as pleased and proud as possible at the result of their labours.

And now when fairly afloat, we find that the crew have a double object in view; first, a topographical investigation of the Broad-region; and second, the noting of whatever objects of interest in natural history the broads might hold. During a tack the yacht passed over a bed of rushes, displacing a nest of the crested grebe, from which a number of the eggs rolled off into the water. It looked just like a lump of rotting sea-weed; and to avoid detection, we are told that the bird covers its eggs with reeds, so that they are scarcely noticeable: thus strangely does instinct guide to safety. On nearing home, a heron is disturbed, which rises slowly, flapping his wings in the apparently lazy manner peculiar to that bird; but on counting, our young friends found that he flapped his wings no fewer than one hundred and twenty times in a minute!

The success of the first sail only causes a desire for more adventure and a longer cruise, perhaps for three weeks, so that the boys might fully test the capacities of the Swan, and explore all the rivers and broads of Norfolk. The consent of the respective fathers is easily obtained; but the mothers, with their usual fear of danger, are more difficult to persuade. Frank, however, arranged that they should all have a day's sailing, to see how safe it was; and choosing a fine bright day with a light breeze, the Swan floated so gaily, that neither Mrs Merivale nor Mrs Brett could find it in their hearts to oppose the scheme.

Accordingly by the end of May, a hammock is slung between the two low seats, to serve as a third bed; a gun, butterfly net, fishing materials, and plenty of provisions, are on board; and arranging to meet the seniors at Wroxham Bridge, the crew of the Swan set sail. In the middle of Heigham Sounds, there is a great bed of reeds, locally called a 'Rond,' into which the boat is run. All hands being on the watch, a whole flock of birds rises from the reeds – water-hens, coots, &c.; and then a little duck with a bright, chestnut-coloured head and breast. A teal; and the young naturalists, bent on finding its nest, spend a long time fruitlessly, but at length discover it in the very centre of the rond. Large and beautifully lined with feathers, it is found to hold twelve cream-coloured eggs, three of which our friends appropriate, and then proceed to shove off the ship. But alas! the Swan is firmly imbedded in the mud, and refuses to be moved. There was no help for it but to strip, and raising the craft, by using the oars as levers, endeavour to push her off into deep water; but it is hard work, and the three shew as black (with ooze) as negroes ere it is accomplished. At last she is afloat. Without waiting to dress, up go the sails, and being a quiet spot where they are not likely to meet in with vessels, they mean to bathe and dress at leisure. Suddenly, however, a sail appears – a yacht with a number of people on board! And here we are told that its occupants enjoyed a good laugh at the strange appearance of the Swan and her naked though mud-covered crew! Jimmy and Dick take refuge in the cabin; but poor Frank who (still garmentless) is steering, dares not leave his post; so without further ado, he springs into the water at the stern of the yacht, and holding on by the rudder, contrives to keep her on her course till Jimmy reappears with something thrown over him and takes hold of the tiller. Need it be said that the three lost no further time in restoring themselves to the white man's usual appearance!

Heigham Bridge is reached; and while the other two are engaged in lowering the mast, Dick pursues some orange-tip butterflies which are among the prettiest of the Lepidoptera, and look like a bunch of red and white rose petals flying through the air. Resuming their progress up the Bure, till St Benedict's Abbey is reached, where it was resolved to camp for the night, the Swan is run into a creek and made fast.

Night comes on, the wind howling drearily; and nothing to be seen but stretches of lonely marshes, fading away into the distance behind the deserted ruins of the abbey, which occupy the foreground. A sense of loneliness is felt, but not one of our fresh-water tars cares to own it, and each tries to assume a cheerfulness he is far from feeling. Suddenly an unearthly cry sounds from the ruins, and a white form is dimly seen to glide among its broken arches; visions of ghosts, even in this materialistic age, rise unbidden; but the phantom after all is but a harmless white owl. So fright gives place to laughter; the lamp is lit, and supper is made as cheerful as possible. Sleep, however, is coy. To our three young friends, nursed in luxurious homes, there is something rather disturbing in the noise of the waters, the howling of the wind, and the wild cry of the birds. A loud noise disturbs them, and rushing on deck, a belated wherry is seen beating up the river, her canvas making a great noise as they turned on a new tack. The men sing out 'Good-night' as they pass, which is a comforting, homelike greeting, and sleep is attempted once more. Anon a patter-patter is heard on deck; Frank turns out, and sees a stray coot, wandering about in search of the good things of life. Looking round he spies a strange wandering light flitting among the marshes; like a Will-o'-the-wisp it seems here and there, and then appears to vanish for a time. He rouses Jimmy and Dick, but neither can suggest a solution; so hastily throwing on some clothes, they take the punt and endeavour to reach the light. But it always eludes them; and after a fruitless search, they return to bed and court sleep more successfully than before.

Morning finds them determined to investigate the cause of the light, and while rowing about the creek for that purpose, a strange bird arrests their attention. It is standing on a hillock, and is indeed a most peculiar-looking creature, 'with a body like a thrush, but with long legs, a long bill, and staring eyes; a brown tuft of feathers on each side of the head, and a large flesh-coloured ruff of feathers round its neck.' While they are watching the bird, a man seizes and is about to kill the ruff (for such it is), when the boys run forward and entreat him to sell it. The man being a fowler and only wanting money, is glad enough to make a bargain; and then shews them the nest, made of coarse grass, and containing four olive-green eggs spotted with brown.

Hastening to the rendezvous at Wroxham Bridge our crew are greeted with: 'Well, boys, we thought you were lost.' 'No fear, father,' answers Frank; 'the Swan sails grandly, and we are having no end of fun;' and then to the anxious mothers' question as to how they have passed the night, the boys unanimously affirm that they have been most comfortable. Not one of them would shew even the faintest tip of the white-feather. Sailing about on Wroxham Broad, our young voyagers and their friends greatly enjoyed its beauty. On one side rich woods come down to the water's edge; and on the other, marshes stretch for miles and miles, with waving reeds, white cotton grasses, and many-coloured marsh grasses, which vary in tint and colour as the wind waves them or the cloud-shadows pass over them. Taking the punt, they explore a perfect labyrinth of dykes and pools, pushing their way among water-lilies and arrow-heads, and gathering many flowers of every hue; and after such a pleasant day, even the ladies are satisfied with the safety of the lads.

The following day our young friends see an unknown broad lying to leeward, and steer the Swan up the narrow channel leading to it. On goes the boat, regardless of a notice conspicuously placed at the entrance, stating that this broad belongs to Mr – , and with the usual finale, that 'All trespassers will be prosecuted.' All that is known of this Mr – is that he has a big blue yacht. It were difficult if not impossible to turn; and as they were in, they might as well take a look before leaving. Stolen waters are sweet, so this broad seems fairer than the others, and our young naturalists have a good time of it in exploring its many treasures. Hours pass; Mr – and his prohibition are entirely forgotten, until first the sails of a yacht are seen gliding up the entrance, and then the hull; when behold, it is the big blue yacht!

A chase ensues, which ends in the capture of the Swan; the curious build of which seems to have very much puzzled the formidable Mr – , who on hearing that the craft is of the boys' own building, is mollified at once, compliments them on their skill, and hearing of their love of natural history, he presents them with some eggs of the pin-tail duck, which rare bird had made its nest in one of the ronds.

Returning to open waters, and skimming along the margin of the land, a magnificent butterfly is seen sailing along. 'It was very large, four inches across the wings, which are of a pale creamy colour, barred and margined with blue and black, velvety in appearance, and with a well-defined tail to each of its under-wings, above which is a red spot. This peculiarity of tail gives it the name of the swallow-tail butterfly; and it is one of the most beautiful as well as rarest species.' The yacht is run ashore; but Dick on making too bold a dash with his net, misses the insect. Frank seizes the net, and gives chase to another which had come sailing along. He follows it for a considerable distance, and then disappears, crying loudly for help. Poor fellow! he had fallen into a bog-hole, and was being rapidly sucked down into the mud; but preserving calmness, he tells Dick to bring a rope, while Jimmy flings him his coat; alas! it does not reach him; and Frank is sinking to the shoulders, when Jimmy, in desperation, doffs his unmentionables, and Frank holds on by the one leg, while he manages to keep a grasp of the other, and so supports his friend till, to their great relief, Dick appears with the rope. But so tightly is Frank stuck in the mud, that it takes a mighty effort on the part of the others to haul him out. This must have been a sad damper, for we find our adventurous trio making their way back to the Swan silently and thoughtfully – to young bright spirits it being dreadful to be thus brought so near to danger and death. Frank, however, had managed to secure the butterfly for his collection, and kept it safe in spite of his perilous position; and it was preserved specially as a memento of his narrow escape.

As a relief from the monotony of sailing, our young friends propose a game of 'Follow my Leader.' On leaping a hedge, Frank's foot caught the top, and over he fell, right down on a quail's nest, smashing some of the eggs, and wounding the mother, a poor trembling bird, 'about eight inches long, rather plump, of a gray colour, and shaped much like a guinea-fowl.' A fight between a hawk and a weasel next attracts attention; after a prolonged struggle, the hawk falls a victim; and the boys, on gaining the spot, carry off both animals, as an interesting addition to their museum.

The wind having risen, the Swan sails in grand style to Yarmouth, where she is made fast outside a row of wherries moored to the quay, while her crew go on shore to inspect the quaint Dutch-looking town, which has been so often compared to a gridiron. Our young voyagers had determined on the morrow to sail up Breydon Water; and off they set, notwithstanding that the gale had increased in severity and the lake was covered with crested foam. Not a sail is to be seen on the stormy water; yet the Swan bravely accomplished the dangerous passage, and with the exception of 'shipping' seas and other unavoidable mishaps, they reached the smoother waters of the Waveney in safety. Skimming along for some miles, they anchor near Beccles, where a finely wooded bank holds out enticement for naturalising. There a hawk's nest is found, and two of the young ones are captured, our young friends intending to take them home and train them for the old English sport of falconry.

The days and weeks fly quickly, and bring new enjoyments and treasures; but we have not space even to mention a tithe of the spoils.

It will be interesting, however, to add that when winter bound the broads with ice, our young friends hit upon the plan of fastening skates to the Swan, and so propelling her from place to place. Raised on runners like large iron skates, and with ordinary skates on each rudder for steering power, away sped the Swan over the ice after the manner of ice-ships in Canada; until the return of milder weather restored her to the waves – bringing to her owners new stores of information with each cruise.

Although it is not given to every boy to be one of such a merry crew as that of the Swan, or to have opportunity for adventures such as those so graphically pictured in this volume, still there are many who, possessing certain opportunities, pass through the world with their eyes metaphorically shut. Irrespective, therefore, of the practical hints for the employment of leisure time, here presented to those who are qualified to profit by them, the moral lesson taught is, that even in spots looked upon by the great generality of people as 'uninteresting,' Nature is lavish of her charms for those who will take the trouble to woo them.

THE ROCKY BOULDERS OF CORNWALL

1

Secondary colours are those which are formed by the combination of any two of the three 'primary' colours; the combinations of secondary colours are called 'tertiary' colours.

2

By Christopher Davies. London: Warne & Co.

3

The Luxulyan Boulders, &c.

4

Helmen Tor, &c.

5

The Logan Rock, &c.

6

The Chimney Rock, &c.

7

The Menabilly Stone, &c.

8

The 'Maen-an-tol,' &c.

9

The Cheese-wring, &c.

10

Giant's Coit, Devil's Whetstone, &c.

11