IV
The peace and quiet of the mill pond every Saturday morning was shattered by the rumblings of two water pumps. These pumps had to suck out the water from the pit in the flume to enable us to even see what we were trying to do. Three or maybe four, very muddy characters, attired in the necessary garments to withstand the cold, were always in the depths of the mill, working in the mud, sand, gravel and debris, and at times it seemed as though we were merely moving these from one place to another, rather than disposing of them.
We finally managed to extricate the old turbine. The simple mechanism and design of this ancient piece of machinery to me is always marvelous. We had hoped to renovate the old turbine and put it back in its place, but age and rust made this impossible, and the turbine now rests on the shore of the pond for all to see.
In the process of moving all the mud and sand, we uncovered the remains of the original flume or sluiceway leading from the mill pond to the wheel pit. We found the flume to be about five and a half feet wide and originally about ten feet high and, roughly, thirty feet long. The sides were planked against 8 × 8 hard pine timbers which were in turn cut or tenoned into 8 × 8 mortised supports, twelve on each side of the flume, about two feet apart, and each dowelled or pinned with one and a half inch hard pine trunnells (wooden pins to you).
We were now down about twelve feet in the dike of the flume, and we had to hand shovel and excavate all around each stub of these timbers, knocking back the dowels and prying out each stub. These uprights had been broken off when the flume was filled in. Every one of the stubs andthe pins was bright and new as the day it was put in. Packed around each section of each stub was about six inches of semi-hard blue clay.
Apparently wood or any substance long immersed in water will last forever and undoubtedly the clay we found packed around each helped to preserve this wood. We threw the stubs upon the top of the dike, and they were not in the air and light two or three days before they turned gray, discolored and aged looking.
George Woodbury, in his book, “John Goffe’s Mill”, says:
“Wood can be almost indefinitely preserved if it is kept either consistently dry or consistently wet all the time. Let it get wet and dry out a few times and it quickly decomposes. In Egypt where it never rains, wooden objects are found well preserved after countless centuries of burial. In Switzerland, the piles driven into the Lac Neuchatel by the aboriginal lake dwellers are still sound after two thousand years.”
“Wood can be almost indefinitely preserved if it is kept either consistently dry or consistently wet all the time. Let it get wet and dry out a few times and it quickly decomposes. In Egypt where it never rains, wooden objects are found well preserved after countless centuries of burial. In Switzerland, the piles driven into the Lac Neuchatel by the aboriginal lake dwellers are still sound after two thousand years.”
We could not obtain any proper hard pine 8 × 8, but we did find some creosote 6 × 8 hard pine timber creosoted, about twenty feet long. Friend George very carefully made the tenons, and we were able to replace them in the old position from whence they came. This may sound easy, but just try it!
After a few hours of this work, the writer became exhausted. Hot baths and horse liniment helped somewhat, but I think I can still feel the effects. The chances are, our tenacious forefathers had no trouble whatsoever in this work.
We were able to re-use about fifty per cent of the old pine pins, or trunnells, recovered from the joints. The new ones we made by hand. I would suggest to anyone contemplating such a venture as this that he would be wise to anticipate endless frustration, hard work, and snide andcaustic comments from onlookers and discouraging prospects of completion.
The embankment would cave in every few minutes, notwithstanding our amateurish shoring attempts, but we managed to keep ahead of the cave-ins by shoring up quickly before the whole dam caved in on top of us.
During all this, the level of the water in the mill pond had to be lowered so that we could work in this spot, which is about two or three feet below the bottom of the mill pond. The lowering of the water level resulted in great consternation to the inhabitants thereabouts, whose only concern seemed to bewhenwere we going to raise the pond. No one seemed to care about our sudden demise from the pond breaking through the dam.
Of course, the pumps had to be working constantly while we were employed in this operation. One of these pumps was loaned to us by S. R. Nickerson of Hyannis, and the other was given us by Colonel Ralph Thacher of the Cape Cod Shipbuilding Corporation, some of the few persons who were sympathetic with our cause.
Although this pump from Colonel Thacher was probably around fifty years old, it proved to be a most reliable and excellent piece of apparatus, consisting of a large, horizontal, single cylinder, “make and break” engine, driving a heavy, eighteen-inch rubber diaphragm pump. It certainly puts to shame some of the modern pump equipment of today, chugging along hour after hour like a patient old horse without much noise and clatter.
We all became very fond of this sturdy antique which, to my mind, combines functional beauty with gratifying simplicity and reliability. Cooling was a simple matter of a pail of water in the cylinder jacket tank; lubrication wasby a few grease cups and an outside glass oil container about the size of a large tea cup; and the starting was easy and positive, all by hand.
equipment on a cart
All the visitors seemed to be drawn to this piece of equipment when it was operating, and we signified our tribute by mounting a small flag on the pump every Saturday morning.
I should not forget to relate how Harvey Studley, a young, local contractor, sent up three men and all the shingles necessary to entirely re-do the roof of the mill itself. Harvey also gave us a goodly supply of 10 × 10 hard pine timbers which we put to good use in the sills and otherwise.
About six months before this project got underway, Harvey, who is generally a quiet, peaceful soul, delivered an impassioned speech at our annual Town Meeting, decrying the lack of interest by the townspeople in the preservation of some of our own landmarks.
The building itself had to be raised by Bob Hayden and his crew, and a new foundation completely made on the old. When this was done, new sills put in and the building lowered, things looked a little better, for at least the building sat upright.
Harvey gave concrete help, but although a good many people expressed their admiration of the job we were doing and the task which we had undertaken, we didn’t get too much actual help. It is always more fun to watch work being done.
We did, however, among other people, receive help from a photogenic barrister, Harold Hayes, who spent an afternoon in his boots with a shovel helping us to disturb the mud of the centuries. One kind gentleman, whom I do not know, was watching us one day as we were trying to pry off some of the rusted bolts and nuts from the old turbine. He showed up the next afternoon with a large, much-needed, Stilson wrench which he donated to the cause.
Ben Baxter, one of the living heirs of the “Baxter boys”, and a descendant of some of the best sea captains the Cape has ever produced, gave much of his time and effort and loaned us considerable equipment. Ben is an expert mariner, engaged in ferrying cargo back and forth to Nantucket, virtually bring “oil to the lamps of China”. I don’t think anyone knows Nantucket Sound better than Ben Baxter. Between his trips to the island, Ben found time to be with us every Saturday. He is a stout fellow.
My friend, John Doherty, who is engaged in the building of homes and selling of real estate, has delivered to us many loads of loam, fill, and sand.
Charles Cunningham, a local contractor and builder of large buildings, was most generous in offering the use of his stock pile, where a treasure was found of different sizes and shapes of all kinds of lumber and materials. He told us to take anything we could use, and the offer was music to our ears.
I do hope Mr. Cunningham didn’t feel too chagrined when he saw how much we were taking, but nevertheless he grinned and said to go ahead and take whatever we wanted.
The Hinckley Lumber Company of Hyannis graciously offered, and we quickly accepted, lumber and supplies from their mill and warehouse.
Our busy surveyor of highways, Chris Marsh, loaned to us from time to time a machine called a back hoe, which does marvelous things, and some men to help with the hard digging.
One generous soul, Tom Powers, has given us several beautiful trees which we are planting and hope will live to beautify the structure and the landscaping. Tom is a director and officer of several banks, owns most of the real estate on Cape Cod, and is a teller of tall tales in any dialect you wish.
The two signs, and especially the final sign, which grace the mill property were made by a sign painter and artist extraordinary, one H. O. Thurston, of Centerville, a friend of long-standing.
There were many times when it seemed to me we would never finish this job; that it really was perhaps too much for us to have ever started, what with our limited knowledge and seemingly insurmountable obstacles. Somehow we all kept going, hoping that we would finally have the mill completed as we envisioned from the beginning. It reminded me of the chap who had the tiger by the tail and didn’t dare let go.