Read Island Survival: Starts by chopping a tree - Chapter 42

Island Survival: Starts by chopping a tree-Chapter 42

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Chapter 42: Chapter 42

Upon seeing what she held in her arms, Jeff was taken aback and filled with bliss. He quickly reached out to touch it, feeling the texture against his skin.

It was slightly gritty and moldable, with its color a dark gray material. The happiness on his face was livid, since he didn’t need to look for it anymore.

He then placed his broad hands on Jessica’s shoulder, filled with excitement. "Where did you find this clay?" he said in haste.

Jessica, feeling his touch, her face turned a shade of red as she replied in a low voice, "We found this in the river. I think there’s more of it there if we come looking."

Jeff, hearing this, was excited. "Can you guys come along, since I can’t carry all of it back," he said, pointing at the bamboo containers.

Hearing what he said and knowing that it was a lot for one person to manage, they each nodded their heads.

They also felt that they should cooperate since they hadn’t helped Jeff.

Since he asked for help, they should better associate, since they didn’t want to let him do all the work every day.

"Sure. How much would we have to fill this with clay?" Emma asked, holding the bamboo container in her hands.

Jeff, hearing her inquiries, hurriedly replied as he explained. "Each of this bamboo container holds about 2 liters or 2,000 cubic centimeters in space. From my estimation, I think we should fill 11 bamboo containers."

Hearing his explanation, Emma nodded her head, not questioning him. Ariana, on the side, decided to ask, "Why only 11, Captain?" she spoke out.

Hearing what she said, Jeff then calculated the size of the pot as he replied.

"Well, since we have a bamboo container that can hold at least 2 liters of space. Then let’s estimate that each medium-sized pot requires 3-4 liters of clay."

"For five pots, we will need approximately 18-20 liters of clay. Assuming the pots are about 10 inches (25 cm) in height, the width would be around 6 inches (15 cm) in diameter. The opening at the top, being smaller than the widest point, should be about 6 inches (15 cm) I guess, to prevent spillage while still allowing easy access," he explained.

"But to be on the good side of course, we should fill all of them. 12 for the clay, and 3 for the water," he finished.

"Ohhh," all of them nodded their heads in understanding.

"So should we go now?" he asked the group, which they agreed.

Carrying the bamboo containers, Jeff could see that it was very much hard to carry them.

"I should make a basket or something to carry this. Using bamboo by stripping it to make a woven bamboo basket is a good choice," he thought.

After some time, they finally arrived at the river side. Ariana then put down the 3 bamboo containers she was holding.

"Captain, it’s over there. Wait i’ll show you," she uttered as she walked towards the not-so-deep river.

It only reached her knees as she arrived at the spot, pointing down, she said. "It’s over here, Captain," following her pointed finger.

Jeff also got in the river as he arrived beside her, squatting down and scooping the riverbed.

Jeff carefully scrapes clay from the riverbank, focusing on the soft, fine-textured deposits. He avoids areas with excessive sand or pebbles to minimize impurities.

Using his bamboo containers, he then began to fill it by scooping down.

"Don’t collect clay with too much water mixed in; it will be heavy and harder to knead later. Avoid clay that feels sandy or gritty, as it may weaken the structure of the pottery," he instructed the girls, before they were about to start.

The girls nodded their heads as they filled the bamboo containers. When they filled each of them, Jeff then got back at the shelter to start his pottery.

As he arrived back, "You can just put the bamboo containers there, leave the rest to me," he said to all of them.

They were a little hesitant since they wanted to help, but they didn’t know how to do it.

Seeing their expressions, he understood what it means. "Don’t worry about not being able to help. Since we are in need of this, we can’t let mistakes happen. Don’t worry, when I have time, I’ll teach each of you so you can spend your time making pots if you have nothing to do," he comforted, which the girls happily nodded their heads.

"Okay captain, but is there something that you need help with?" Layla asked him.

Jeff just thought for a moment and nodded his head. Seeing this, she was very much excited.

"Yes, but not for the moment, since I’m still using the bamboo containers. I’ll call you later so you can work. Is that good?" Jeff said with a smile.

Seeing his smile, her heart began to palpitate as she was in a daze for a moment and replied in a low voice. "That- that’s good for me," she stuttered.

"But can we watch, since we have nothing to do right now. Watching you will at least help us have an idea on how to do it. Just think of us as your students," Charlotte remarked.

Jeff accepted her suggestion, since there’s nothing wrong with it. He then sat cross-legged on the ground, his hands covered in moist, dark gray clay.

The bamboo containers filled with his freshly harvested clay stood nearby, their earthy aroma mingling with the scent of the forest.

Ahhh, Forest!

He reached into one, pulling out a smooth handful of clay, and placed it on a large, flat rock he’d chosen as his work surface.

Jeff began to knead the clay with slow, deliberate motions. His palms pressed firmly into the material, folding and pushing it repeatedly.

"There must be no air bubbles," he murmured to himself, recalling a lesson he’d learned from a book about Archaeological Studies of Ancient Pottery.

This book is mostly about Anthropology and archaeology often explore how early humans made functional pots using natural clay and open-fire kilns.

Air pockets could cause a pot to crack or explode during firing, and he wasn’t about to waste his precious effort.

If he skips this, then strapped air expands during firing and can destroy the pottery.

Satisfied with the consistency, Jeff rolled the clay into a large ball, its surface smooth and cool to the touch.

He then flattened the ball slightly, creating a sturdy base. "This one’s going to be for water storage," he said aloud, as if sharing his thoughts, which the girls could hear him as well.

Jeff pinched the edges of the base, slowly drawing them upward. His fingers moved with precision, pulling and thinning the clay as he rotated the base on the rock.

Without a potter’s wheel, his movements were manual and careful. Each twist of the clay felt like a rhythm, between his hands and the material.

The pot began to take shape—a simple cylindrical form, with walls rising evenly. Jeff reached for a small bamboo stick, sharpened to a smooth edge.

Using it as a tool, he carved away excess clay at the bottom and smoothed out imperfections along the sides.

"There must be no uneven spots," he muttered, brushing the surface lightly with his thumb.

As the walls grew taller, Jeff added a coil of clay around the rim to strengthen it. He blended the coil into the pot’s body, pressing and smoothing the seam until it disappeared.

He carefully avoids making the walls of the pots too thick or too thin. Thick walls take longer to dry and may crack, while thin walls are fragile and prone to breaking.

Proper shaping ensures that the pottery dries and fires uniformly, reducing the risk of structural failure.

The container’s top opening was just the right size for easy water filling without the danger of spilling while moving it.

Periodically, he would moisten his fingers into the bamboo container, that is brimming with water to even out the surface.

The clay darkened where it was touched by water, glistening slightly in the sunlight. His hands moved methodically, shaping the pot’s gentle curves.

By the time he finished, the pot stood about ten inches tall with a six-inch diameter at its widest point.

The mouth was slightly narrower, curving inwardly. Jeff sat back and wiped his brow, leaving a streak of clay across his forehead.

A proud smile spread across his face as he admired his work.

"Not bad," he said, turning the pot gently to inspect it for flaws. It was simple, and must be functional, and sturdy, I guess.

Jeff set the pot carefully aside, letting it rest in the shade to begin the drying process.

He glanced at the remaining clay in the bamboo containers and flexed his fingers.

"One down," he said, rolling his shoulders. "Four to go." He said with excitement, but was a little curious why there was no notification.

He just shook his head, thinking that it must be delayed because of the low signal on this island.

The system, watching from the side, eating popcorn that is invisible to the naked eye even for Jeff, snorted.

"You really have the gal to compare me, a powerful system, to a broken smartphone that needs a signal?"

It spoke in a way that Jeff couldn’t hear. Clearly, it could read his thoughts without his knowledge.