CHAPTER XVIII.
OFF FOR THE EVERGLADES
BOTH Sumner and Worth were by this time quite used
to being turned out of bed while it was still dark,
and told that it was morning and time to make a start.
So, when the familiar summons was heard, a few hours
after their evening of fun, they obeyed them, though
not without some sleepy grumblings and protests. The
stars were still shining when they went on deck for a
look at the weather, and they shivered with the chill
of the damp night air.
There were faint evidences of daylight, however,
and the welcome fragrance of coffee was issuing from
the galley. They felt better after drinking a cup of
it, but did not consider themselves fairly awake until
the sails were hoisted, the anchor lifted, and the
Transit began to move slowly out from under Lignum
Vitae.
Just as they were getting fairly under way, a
sleepy hail of "Goodbye, and good luck to you!" came
from the edge of the forest on the key where the night
shadows still lingered. Then, with answering shouts of
"Goodbye, Mr. Haines Goodbye to Lignum Vitae!" they
were off.
The, reason for such an early start was that, with
four boats in tow, even the Transit could not be
expected to make very good speed, and Mr. Carey was
anxious to cover the sixty-mile run to Cape Sable
before dark.
For the first three hours Sumner was kept
constantly at the helm, directing the course of the
schooner through a multiplicity of tortuous channels,
between coral reefs, oyster bars, and a score of low
lying mangrove keys. All this time Lieutenant Carey
stood beside him, keeping track of the courses steered
and noting on his chart the position of the channels,
together with the names of the keys, so far as Sumner
was able to give them. The knowledge that the lad
displayed of these uncharted waters, and the skill
with which he handled the schooner, so excited the
lieutenant's admiration that he finally said: "I
declare, Sumner, I don't believe there is a better
pilot in the whole Key West sponging fleet than you!
How on earth do you remember it all?"
"I don't know," laughed Sumner, "I expect it comes
natural, as the man said when asked what made him so
lazy."
"Well," said the lieutenant, "I am mighty glad to
have you along instead of that fellow Rust Norris,
though he did intimate that your ignorance of the reef
would get us into trouble. He was greatly cut up when
I told him that, as you were going with me, I should
not require his services, and tried to say some mean
things about you; but I shut him up very quickly. He
doesn't seem to be a friend of yours, though."
"I don't know why he shouldn't be," replied Sumner,
"I am sure I feel friendly enough towards him. I
suppose it must be because I wouldn't let him try my
canoe the other day, and left him on the buoy that
night. I only meant that as a joke though, and was
just about to start out for him, when I saw a
fisherman pick him up."
Here Sumner related the incident referred to, and
the lieutenant said, as Mr. Manton had, that the
fellow was rightly served. Then the subject was
dropped, and they thought of it no more.
As they were now in open water, with all traces of
land rapidly fading in the distance behind them,
Sumner laid a course for Sandy Key, the only one they
would see before reaching Cape Sable, resigned the
tiller, and invited Worth to try his hand at trolling.
The Transit being well provided with fishing tackle
they soon had two long trolling lines towing astern.
Worth said he was going in for big fish, and so
attached to the end of his line a bright leaden squid
terminating in a heavy, finely-tempered hook.
Sumner, believing that there would be as much sport
and more profit in trying for those that were smaller,
but more plentiful, used a much lighter hook, baited
with a bit of white rag. Worth would not believe that
any fish could be so foolish as to bite at such a
bait. His incredulity quickly vanished, however, as
Sumner began to pull in, almost as fast as he could
throw his line overboard, numbers of Crevallé,
or " Jack," beautiful fellows tinted with amber,
silver, and blue, and Spanish mackerel, one of the
finest fish in southern waters. Seeing that Sumner was
having all the fun, while lie could not get a bite,
Worth began to haul in his line with a view to putting
on a smaller hook, and baiting it with a bit of rag.
Suddenly there was a swish through the water, a bar of
silver gleamed for an instant in the air, a hundred
feet astern, and Worth's line began to whiz through
his hands with lightning-like rapidity. With a howl of
pain, he dropped it as though it had been a red-hot
coal, and began dancing about the cockpit, wringing
his hands and blowing his fingers.
"Snub him, Worth, quick! or he'll have your line,"
cried Sumner, springing to his friend's assistance.
"It's a barracuda, and a big one!" He got a turn
around the rudder post just in time to save the line,
and then began a fight that set the young fisherman's
blood to tingling with excitement. In spite of his
smarting fingers, Worth insisted upon pulling in his
own fish while the barracuda seemed equally intent
upon pulling his captor overboard. Such leaping and
splashing, such vicious tugs and wild rushes ahead,
astern, and off to one side, as that barracuda made,
were far beyond anything in the way of fishing that
Worth had ever experienced. For ten minutes the fight
was maintained with equal vigor on both sides. Every
inch of slack was carefully taken in. With the stout
rudder post to aid him, Worth was slowly but surely
gaining the victory, and the great, steely blue fish
was drawn closer and closer to the schooner.
At length he was within fifty feet, and Worth's
flushed face was lighting with triumph, when, all at
once there came a rush of some vast, white object
astern. A huge pair of open jaws, lined with
glistening rows of teeth, closed with a vicious snap,
and a moment later Worth, whose face was a picture of
bewildered amazement, pulled in the head of his fish
minus its body.
"Was it a whale, do you think?" he asked, soberly,
turning to Sumner.
"No," replied the other, laughing at his
companion's crestfallen appearance, "but it was the
biggest kind of a shark, and he would have snapped you
in two as easily as lie did that barracuda, if you had
been at that end of the line."
By noon they had left Sandy Key astern, and before
sunset they had passed the stately coconut groves on
Cape Sable and Palm Point, and were rounding Northwest
Cape. Just at dusk they headed into a creek, not more
than twenty feet wide, and directly afterwards came to
anchor in the deep, roomy basin to which it was the
entrance. The basin was already occupied by a small
sloop, and as Sumner's knowledge of those waters did
not extend beyond that point, Lieutenant Carey
anticipated being able to gain some information from
her crew. With this in view he anchored but a short
distance from her, and after everything was made snug
for the night, he hailed her with:
"Hello on board the sloop!"
"Hello yourself! What schooner is that?"
"The Government schooner Transit, and I should be
very glad to see any of you on board."
"Where are you bound?"
"Into the' 'Glades. Will you come over after a
while, or shall I go aboard the sloop? I want to have
a talk with you."
"I reckon we'll come over."
"Those fellows don't seem inclined to be very
sociable," remarked the Lieutenant to Ensign Sloe, as
they went down into the cabin to supper. At the same
time Sumner was saying to Worth, "I wonder who that
fellow is? His voice sounded very familiar."
When they again came on deck after supper, the
night was so dark that they could not see the sloop,
though they supposed her to be lying close to
them.
"Hello aboard the sloop!" again hailed Lieutenant
Carey.
There was no answer, nor did several hails serve to
bring a reply of any kind.
"Let's take my canoe and go for a look at those
fellows, Sumner," said the Lieutenant. "They have
quite excited my curiosity."
In a few minutes the canoe was afloat, and its
occupants were paddling in the direction of where the
sloop was thought to lie. For half an hour they
paddled back and forth, and in circles, being guided
in their movements by the bright riding light of the
Transit. Once they struck a floating oar that seemed
to be attached to a cable; but they could discover no
trace of the sloop, nor did their repeated hailings
bring forth a single answer.
At length, greatly perplexed by such unaccountable
behavior on the part of the sloop's crew, and nearly
devoured by the clouds of mosquitoes that swarmed
above the lagoon, they returned to the schooner, and
thankfully sought the shelter of her wire-screened
cabin.
CHAPTER XIX.
THE CANOES ARE AGAIN LOST, AND AGAIN FOUND.
IN that snug harbor there was so little chance of
danger that no watch was kept, and all hands turning
in, after a pleasant evening spent in smoking and
discussing plans, slept soundly until morning.
Although the sun had gone down in a blaze of ominous
glory the evening before, and the breeze had died out
in an absolute calm, no one was fully prepared for the
wonderful change of scene disclosed by the morning.
While their landlocked harbor was still as placid as a
millpond where they were anchored, it was blackened
and roughened by the gusts of fierce squalls but a
short distance from them. The continuous roar of
breakers outside denoted a furious sea, the cause of
which was shown by the lashing treetops and the
howlings of a gale overhead The sky was hidden behind
masses of whirling clouds, while after the tropical
weather to which they had become accustomed, the air
seemed very cold, though the mercury had not fallen
below 50°. The gale was a typical Norther, that,
sweeping down from Texas prairies, had gathered
strength in its unchecked progress across the Gulf,
and was now hurling itself with furious energy against
the low Florida coast.
"Whew! What a day!" cried Sumner, as he emerged
from the warm cabin and stood shivering in the
cockpit. "I tell you what, old man, I'm glad we are in
this snug haven, instead of outside."
"So am I," said Worth, who had followed Sumner, and
to whom these remarks were addressed. "I'm afraid
canoes would stand a pretty sorry chance out there
just now."
"Canoes! Well, I should say so! They'd be -- Great
Scott! Where are the canoes and the cruisers?"
Sumner had just taken his first glance astern, and
as he uttered this exclamation lie sprang to the
little afterdeck, and stared about him. The three
canoes and the two cruisers had been left for the
night attached to a single stout line which was made
fast to the Transit's rudder post. Now they were gone,
and not a sign of them was to be seen as far as the
eye could reach.
"If that doesn't beat anything I ever heard of!"
exclaimed Sumner, in bewilderment. -- "I should think
a jew-fish big enough to take them all might just as
well have taken the schooner, too," said Worth.
"Yes, I expect she will be stolen from under us the
next thing we know," replied Sumner, "and I expect if
we ever get our canoes again we'd better put them into
a burglar-proof safe and hire a man with a dog to
watch them nights. I never heard of anybody losing
canoes as easily as we do. Where do you suppose they
can have gone to, sir?"
This question was addressed to Lieutenant Carey,
who, together with Ensign Sloe, had been attracted to
the deck by Sumner's first dismayed exclamation.
"I've no more idea than you have," replied the
Lieutenant, gravely. "The jew-fish is not to blame
this time, at any rate, for there was no anchor down
that he could get hold of, and this rope has evidently
been cut." Here the speaker displayed the end of the
rope that had hung over the stern, and pointed to the
clean cut by which it had been severed. "It is evident
that some human agency has been at work," he
continued, "and I am inclined to connect it with the
strange behavior of the fellows on that sloop; though
what their object in stealing our boats was, I can't
imagine. It is a very serious matter to us, however,
and one that calls for prompt investigation. As this
wind must have sprung up early in the night, it is
hardly probable that the boats can have been taken out
to sea , and if they were not they must be somewhere
in this lagoon, perhaps concealed in the mangroves, or
in one of the sloughs that empty into it. It is lucky
that we have the canvas boat left, for I should hate
to try and navigate the Transit in these unknown
waters with such a gale blowing."
The canvas boat, of which the Lieutenant spoke,
was, a folding affair that was stowed under the
cockpit floor, and was a part of the schooner's
regular outfit. Although it was very light, it could
easily accommodate three persons, and was a capital
thing to fall back on in an emergency like the
present.
Mr. Carey ordered it to be got out and put in shape
at once. After breakfast lie and Sumner, with one of
the crew to row, stepped into it and started on their
search. They skirted the shore as closely as possible,
both to escape the force of the wind, and that they
might the more carefully examine the dense mangrove
thickets that, with occasional stretches of white
beach, formed the coastline.
The mangrove, which here attains the size of oaks,
is one of the most curious of trees, and in one
particular closely resembles the banyan. Its small
yellow blossom, which is eagerly sought by honey bees,
forms a long brown seed about the size and shape of a
cigar. This, falling off, readily takes root in mud
flats, beneath shallow salt or brackish water, and
shoots up a straight slender stem having numerous
branches. Some of these branches bend downward to the
water, sending their tips into the mud, where they in
turn take root. At length the tree is thus surrounded
by a circle of woody arches that soon become strong
enough to support the weight of a man. As the tree
increases in height, the upper branches send down long
straight shoots that also take root and form
independent trunks. Mangroves grow with marvelous
rapidity, and quickly cover large areas, where their
thickly interlaced, arching roots hold all manner of
drift and seaweed, until finally a soil is formed in
which the seeds of coarse grasses and other vegetation
sprout and flourish. Thus, in the course of time, an
island of dry land appears and is lifted above the
water. In this way the coral reefs of the Florida
coast are gradually transformed into verdant keys, the
mangrove taking up and continuing the work of island
building just below the surface of the water, where
the coral insect leaves off. The mangrove is covered
with a thick foliage of small glossy leaves, that is
such a favorite haunt for mosquitoes, that wherever
mangroves grow, mosquitoes are found in countless
millions.
Skirting this wonderful mangrove forest, and
occasionally penetrating shallow bayous in which
herons, cranes, ibises, pelicans, and curlews swam and
waded, the occupants of the canvas boat searched for
several hours in vain. Finally, as they were on the
opposite side of the broad lagoon from their starting
point, and exposed to the full force of the wind,
Sumner called out that he saw something that looked
like masts on the edge of a distant clump of
mangroves. It was no easy task to navigate
successfully through the heavy sea running at this
point; but when they had accomplished it, they were
rewarded by seeing the entire missing fleet piled up
in the greatest confusion among the mangroves, which
at this place extended far out into the water. Before
they reached them both the Lieutenant and Sumner were
obliged to jump overboard in water above their waists,
to prevent the canvas boat from swamping in the
breakers.
The picture presented by their stranded fleet
looked like one of utter ruin. Sumner trembled for the
fate of his precious canoe, and the Lieutenant
wondered if his expedition had thus been brought to an
untimely end. There was a small beach but a short
distance away, to which the sailor took the canvas
boat, and then returned to help them clear the wrecks.
One by one the several craft, all of them full of
water, were extricated from the tangled mass, and
dragged to the beach for examination. The three canoes
were found to be badly scratched, and damaged so far
as looks went; but still sound and seaworthy. This was
undoubtedly owing to their lightness, and the
exceeding care with which canoes are built. In their
construction the question of expense is not
considered; consequently, being built of the best
material, by the most skillful workmen, they are
stronger than ordinary craft many times their
size.
Their sails were muddied and torn, and some of
their slender spars were broken; but as most of their
cargoes had been transferred to the Transit before
leaving Lignum Vitae this was the extent of their
injury. Sumner was jubilant when a careful examination
of every part of them revealed this fact; but Mr.
Carey, who was devoting his attention to the cruisers,
looked very grave. Both of them were badly stove, and
it was evident that only extensive repairs could
render them again fit for service.
"Who could have done this thing, and why was it
done?" he repeated over and over again in deep
perplexity; while Sumner, equally at fault, tried to
recall whose voice it was that had seemed so familiar
when they had exchanged hails with the sloop.
After emptying the canoes, and hauling the cruisers
high up on the beach, where they were to be left for
the present, the party set forth on their return trip.
The Lieutenant went in his own canoe, Sumner in his,
while the sailor in the canvas boat towed the
Cupid.
As they neared the schooner they saw her people
pointing eagerly towards a bit of beach near the head
of the creek through which they had entered the lagoon
the evening before. Looking in that direction, they
saw a white man beckoning to them and shouting, though
they could not distinguish his words.
Headily understanding that he was in distress of
some kind, the Lieutenant and Sumner headed their
canoes in his direction. As they neared him, they saw
that he was hatless, and clad only in a shirt and
trousers that were torn and watersoaked. The first
words they could distinguish were:
"Our boat is going to pieces outside, and Rust
Norris is in her with a broken arm."
"Rust Norris!" That was the name Sumner had been
racking his memory for, and his was the voice that had
come to them from the sloop on the preceding
evening.
..
© 2001 Craig
O'Donnell, editor &
general factotum.
May not be reproduced without my permission. Go scan
your own damn stuff.
