The Nautilus
Tom Ross Remembers...
The Nautilus
The Nautilus was a pretty boat, an open cockpit launch, white, with blue trim, the blue being something that was remembered affectionately, and used elsewhere in later years by one of the two boys who were frequent passengers. They saw many wonders, cat-tails in reedy places, abandoned piling that often loomed in tarry silence through mists or twilight, great blue heron that flew away protesting as the boat approached. A time came when one boy told of a dream he had after seeing some of the piling. His father had been boasting about the high arches of his feet, and displaying them to the boys. In the dream, the piling were topped with giant feet having wiggling toes, and somehow saying �Archie, Archie Archie�.
Somewhere upstream on the Hoquiam river, there was a picknick spot equipped with a rope swing that swung out over the water. Even grownups expressed a sort of thrill provided by this simple amusement device. Once, while several people were enjoying this spot, and the Nautilus floated serenely on the water, a boy was watching his mother spear a pickle out of a jar, and saying �Mrs Stewart, do you...�? From then on, the name �Stewart� meant a pickle on a fork to him.
At several places along the stream, there were �Sawdust burners�, thick black towers topped with coarse wire-screen domes. The fire in these towers was fed with material carried to their tops by moving conveyors. Not all the material was sawdust but much that would now be prized as building material. Abundant sparks escaped through the coarse screens, and their luminosity was reflected in the wave that was the wake of the Nautilus. Once, when the Nautilus went out of the river and into Grays Harbor, there was a seamstress aboard. Like Old Ranzo of the chanty, she was no sailor, though the Nautilus was no whaler. The harbor was a bit rough, and the lady succumbed to mal de mere. The ever-present boys watched in consternation as she lay on the floorboards of the Nautilus, and one was called upon to volunteer his red sweater as an emergency assist. There was something pathetic about the picture the sweater presented as it later floated away into the seeming vastness of the harbor.
The engine of the Nautilus was one-cylinder. It gave a cheerful putt-putt as it went about its business. One evening, though, that sound was replaced by a brief clicking as the boat came to rest on the water. When it was poled ashore. the Nautilus was at the landing of a cottage where lived an old German couple named Lockhart. Their place was found to be a snug homey one, with small windows. There it was decided that the boys should be taken by their mother over the hill behind the cottage to where the bend in the river would place them across from Mr. Flanagan�s house. There ensued a sort of magical twilight trek through the cedar woods. A moccasin was lost by one boy, but he was more interested in the cedars waving against the darkling sky. The fronded tops moved in the breeze which at one moment, seemed to whisper, as plainly as any human voice, �f-a-i-r�.
Hailed from the riverside, Mr. Flanagen brought his tubby rowboat to pick up the adventurers and take them safely home.
There is little more to tell, except that the Nautilus had stopped because water had leaked into the engine cylinder and that this was handily fixed. Oh yes, and the lady of the house was awakened one morning by a thumping sound for all the world like that of the boat�s engine. However, this was quickly followed by a chanticleer�s announcement of the new day.
The Park Bench
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