CHAPTER
XX.
THE PSYCHE AS A LIFE BOAT.
"JUST where does the sloop lie?" asked Sumner, as
the bow of his canoe ran on to the beach where the man
stood.
The latter explained the position of the stranded
vessel so clearly that the boy, who was familiar with
the locality, comprehended it in a moment.
"She's about a mile from the mouth of the creek,
and a quarter off shore," said the man. "When the tide
went down I partly swum and partly waded to the beach.
I don't know how I ever got ashore alive, but the
thought of poor Rust out there kinder nerved me on,
and so I made it at last. I wouldn't do it again,
though, for all the money in Key West. Now I've been
here so long waiting for help, and the tide's rising
again so fast, that I'm afraid it's all day with poor
Rust. If he ain't swept off the wrack by this time he
soon will be, and I don't know as there is anything
can be done for him. It wouldn't be possible for the
schooner to get anywhere near the wrack, she's'
dragged in so fur over the reefs, and the small boat
isn't built that could live in them seas."
"Yes, she is," said Sumner, quietly, but with a
very pale face; "this boat that I am sitting in can
live out there, and she's got to do it, too." So
saying, he set his double-bladed paddle into the sand,
and with a vigorous shove sent the light craft gliding
backward into deep water.
The man stared at him in speechless amazement,
while the Lieutenant called out: "Don't try it,
Sumner! You must be crazy to think of such a thing!
You'll only be throwing away your own life for
nothing! Come back, and we'll think of some other
plan."
"There isn't time to think of another plan," Sumner
called back over his shoulder. "I must go, and I know
I can do it. If you will have some of the men out
there on the beach, ready to help us land, we'll make
it easy enough. Goodbye!"
Impelled by vigorous strokes of Sumner's paddle,
the Psyche was already gliding down the smooth waters
of the sheltered creek, and it was too late to
restrain the impetuous young canoeman from carrying
out his project. Realizing this, and also that
Sumner's plan, hazardous as it seemed, was the only
feasible one, Lieutenant Carey, with a heavy heart,
set about doing his own share of the work in hand. He
took the stranger off to the schooner, and after
swallowing a cup of hot coffee, of which he stood
greatly in need, the man declared himself ready to
guide a party to the beach opposite the place where
the sloop lay.
Dinner was ready and waiting on board the Transit
but nobody thought of stopping to eat a mouthful after
learning the news of what was taking place. The sole
anxiety was to reach the beach as quickly as possible.
The instant the stranger said he was ready, all hands,
except those ordered to remain by the schooner, began
to tumble into the available canoes, eager to be set
ashore.
Poor Worth was sadly distressed when he heard of
the terrible task undertaken by his friend, but he
tried to cheer himself and the others by declaring
that if any boat could live outside it was the canoe
Psyche, and if any living sailor could carry her
through the seas, whose angry roar filled the air, it
was Sumner Rankin.
In the mean time the brave young fellow who was the
object of all this anxiety had reached the mouth of
the creek. There, in a sheltered spot, he paused for a
few minutes to take breath and make his final
preparations for a plunge into the roaring breakers
outside.
He set taut the foot steering gear, took double
reefs in both his sails, saw that the halyards were
clear and ready for instant service, adjusted the
rubber apron so that the least possible water should
enter the cockpit, and then, with a firm grasp of his
paddle, he shoved off.
In another minute he was breasting the huge,
combing breakers of the outer bar, and working with
desperate energy to force his frail craft through or
over them. The roar of waters was deafening, while the
fierce gusts rendered breathing difficult. At one
moment the sharp bow of the canoe would point vaguely
towards the sky, while the next would see it directed
into a watery abyss, and plunging downward as though
never to rise again. At such moments the rudder would
be lifted from the water, and only the most skillful
use of the paddle prevented the canoe from broaching
to and being rolled over and over, to be finally
dashed in fragments on the beach. Again and again the
wave crests broke on her deck, sweeping her fore and
aft with a blinding mass of hissing water.
Still the boy's strength held out, still his paddle
was wielded with regular strokes, and finally he came
off victorious in this first bout of his fierce,
single-handed struggle. The line of breakers was
passed, and riding over the comparatively regular seas
beyond, he began working dead to windward for an
offing.
Not until lie was a good half-mile off shore, and
very nearly exhausted by his tremendous efforts, did
he push back the rubber apron, drop his centerboard,
and then, steadying the canoe with his paddle, seize a
favorable opportunity for hoisting the tiny after-sail
that should keep her momentarily headed into the wind.
Then, quickly unjointing his paddle and thrusting its
parts into the cockpit, he grasped the halyard, and
with a single pull set the double-reefed mainsail.
Now was a most critical moment, for as he pulled in
on the mainsheet, and the sail began to feel the full
force of the wind, the little craft heeled over
gunwale under. Only by promptly scrambling to the
weather deck, and sitting with his feet braced under
the lee coaming, while his whole body was thrown out
far over the side, did be prevent her from capsizing.
Then she gathered headway and dashed forward. With one
hand on the deck tiller, and holding the mainsheet in
the other, the boy peered anxiously ahead.
Yes, there was the wreck! Oh, so far away! with
clouds of white spray dashing high above it. Could he
ever reach it through those tumultuous seas? Lifting
him high in the air, where he was exposed to the full
force of the wind at one moment, they towered above
the deep trough into which he sank at the next, and
left his bits of sails shaking as if in a calm. With
full confidence in himself and his boat, he believed
he could reach it -- and he did.
He had no time to look at the anxious watchers on
the beach, but they noted his every movement with
painful eagerness. They almost held their breath as
some huge wave tossed him high aloft, and again as he
was completely hidden from them behind its foam-capped
crest. At length they saw him reach a point abreast
the wreck, round sharply to under its lee, and seize
his paddle. In another minute he was on board, with
the first half of his task accomplished.
He found Rust Norris crouching in the lee of the
little deckhouse, nearly exhausted with pain, hours of
cold drenching, and the terror of his position. The
wreck was trembling so violently with each shock of
the seas that it seemed as though she must break up
beneath their feet.
Rust's left arm was supported in a rude sling made
from a strip of his shirt knotted about his neck. He
did not speak as the boy bent over him, but an
expression of glad surprise and renewed hope lighted
his haggard face.
"Come, Rust," shouted Sumner; "with one big effort
you'll be all right. They are waiting for you on the
beach, and the canoe will carry you that far easy
enough, if you can only manage to get into her. You
will have to sit low down and steer with your feet
while you hold the sheet in your hand. All you'll have
to do is to run her in dead before the wind, head on
for the beach."
With infinite difficulty the wounded man was
finally seated in the narrow cockpit of the frail
craft. A moment later it was shoved off from the
trembling wreck, and was racing with fearful speed
towards the beach. It seemed to leap from the top of
one huge wave to the next with out sinking into the
intervening hollow. Not until it was dragged safely
ashore by those who rushed into the breakers to meet
the flying craft did Rust Norris realize that he was
her sole occupant.
HE FOUND RUST NORRIS CROUCHING
IN THE LEE OF THE LITTLE DECK-HOUSE.
CHAPTER XXI.
SUMNER'S SELF-SACRIFICE.
IF Rust Norris had not been rendered so nearly
helpless by his broken arm, Sumner would have
endeavored to make the Psyche bear them both safely to
land, if not by carrying them, at least by supporting
them while they swam alongside. On his way to the
wrecked sloop he had thought that perhaps this might
be done, but as soon as he discovered Rust's real
condition he knew that he might as well leave him
there to drown as to attempt to burden the light craft
with their double weight. At that moment the lad made
up his mind that Rust should have the canoe to
himself, and that he would take whatever chance of
escape still remained. Thus he had resolutely shoved
the canoe off, with its single occupant, while he
stayed behind, clinging to the leeward mast stay, and
watching with eager eyes the perilous passage to the
beach of the man for whom he had risked so much. The
act was a bit of that coolly-planned self-sacrificing
heroism that stamps true bravery, and distinguishes it
from recklessness.
In his exhausted and partially dazed condition,
Rust did not realize the sacrifice made by his young
deliverer until the canoe had been snatched from the
breakers by a dozen willing hands, and drawn high on
the beach beyond their cruel grasp. Then, on looking
for the boy and seeing that he had remained behind, he
uttered a great cry, and sank down limp and helpless
on the wet sand.
Those on shore had seen from the first that only
one was coming in the canoe, while one was left
behind, but they had not known which was approaching
them until the Psyche was dragged from the
breakers.
Worth was in an agony of despair at his friend's
peril. "Let me go to him!" he cried. "I would rather
drown than stand here without trying to save him!"
"No; let me go! Let me go!" cried the others; and
they made frantic attempts to again launch the canoe
through the breakers; but they might as well have
tried to launch it through a stone wall. Again and
again was it hurled back, while those who strove to
launch it were torn from their footing and flung upon
the beach.
Then there was a shout of "Here he comes! He is in
the water!" and then they strained their eyes in vain
for another glimpse of their well-loved young
comrade.
Sumner had indeed taken the plunge, but not
voluntarily. He had determined to remain by the sloop
until she broke up and he was compelled to swim, or
until the falling tide should render the passage of
that seething maelstrom less terrible. Thus thinking,
he was about to seek the poor shelter in which he had
found Rust, when a great wave, rushing over the wreck,
swept him from it, and buried him beneath tons of its
mighty volume.
As he came gasping to the surface he was again
almost immediately overwhelmed and borne under. Still,
he had drawn a breath of air, and had noted the
direction of the beach. He knew that, sooner or later,
alive or dead, the waves would cast him ashore. So,
without trying to swim forward, he devoted all his
energies to reaching the surface, and breathing as
often as possible. It seemed as though he were merely
rising and sinking, without moving forward an inch,
and it required all his self-control to keep from
exhausting himself by violent struggles to make a
perceptible headway. He retained his presence of mind,
however, and after a half-hour of battle the very
waves seemed to acknowledge his victory, and tossed
him up within sight of the watchers, who had given up
all hope except that of finding his lifeless body.
They uttered a glad shout; but it was checked as he
was again buried from their sight. Again he appeared,
and this time much nearer. Then Lieutenant Carey
rushed into the water. Behind him Worth, Quorum, and
the others formed a line, tightly grasping each
other's hands, and at length the swimmer was within
their reach.
With cries of exultant joy, they bore him up the
beach and laid him on the sand; but their rejoicing
was quickly succeeded by consternation. He lay with
closed eyes, cold, and apparently lifeless.
"Hurry to the schooner, Worth, and tell them to
have hot water, hot blankets, and a roaring fire ready
by the time we get there," demanded the Lieutenant.
"We will bring him as quickly as possible."
For hours they worked over the senseless form of
the brave lad. So nearly had the sea accomplished its
cruel purpose that, but for the lessons learned by the
workers years before at Annapolis, Sumner Rankin's
life would have been given in exchange for that of
Rust Norris. At length a faint color tinged his
cheeks, a faint breath came from between his lips, and
they knew that their efforts had not been in vain. An
hour later he was sleeping quietly, and it was certain
that Nature would complete the work of restoration.
Then the same skill that had snatched life from
apparent death was directed to the setting and proper
bandaging of Rust's broken arm.
The Norther continued to blow all that night and
the following day, and during this period of enforced
idleness Sumner was not allowed to leave his berth.
His every want was anticipated, and those who
surrounded him vied with each other in their tender
care of the lad who had so well won their regard and
admiration. As for Rust Norris, his whole nature
seemed to have undergone such a change that his former
intimates would hardly have recognized him. He sat and
watched constantly beside the boy to whom he owed so
much, and could hardly be persuaded to leave him for
the briefest intervals.
During that second day of storm he made a full
confession of how and why he had attempted to thwart
the objects of Lieutenant Carey's expedition. His
enmity had been particularly directed towards Sumner,
and when the latter instead of himself had been chosen
to pilot the Transit up the reef, he had formed a plan
of revenge that he immediately proceeded to carry out.
This was to visit the Everglade Indians, and inform
them that the expedition was for the purpose of spying
out their lands and preparing for their removal to a
faraway country of cold and snow, where they would
certainly die. To accomplish this he had joined a
Bahama smuggler, and with a cask of rum as a cargo,
they had sailed in the small sloop owned by the latter
for Cape Sable. Here they met a party of Indians who
had come down from the 'Glades on a deer hunt, and
after plying them with rum, roused them to anger by
their lying tale concerning t he coming expedition.
The Indians had departed to spread the report to the
rest of their band, and to devise plans for
frustrating the supposed purpose of the expedition.
Their departure had taken place on the day of the
Transit's arrival on the coast, and but for the signs
of the approaching Norther, Rust Norris and his
companion would have left the lagoon in which they
were so snugly anchored that afternoon. Noting these
signs they decided to remain where they were until it
should blow over. They had no idea when the Transit
would reach the cape, nor did they suppose that Sumner
was aware of the passage into the lagoon. It was
therefore with surprise and consternation that they
found those whom they had attempted to injure anchored
close beside them. They at once determined to take
advantage of the darkness to run out of the lagoon
before the storm broke, and seek another shelter among
the mangrove keys a short distance farther inland.
They slipped their cable, not daring to lift the
anchor for fear the sound might be heard on board the
schooner, and drifted down to the mouth of the creek
with the last of the ebb tide. Here, while waiting for
a breeze, Rust conceived the idea of effectually
crippling the expedition by stealing their boats, and
went back up the creek for that purpose. He cut them
loose from the schooner and attempted to tow them
silently down to where the sloop lay, but as the tide
had turned and was flooding strongly up the creek, he
found it impossible to do so. So he turned them adrift
in the belief that they would be driven to the farther
side of the lagoon, and dashed to pieces by the storm
that was about to break. At any rate, the expedition
would be so long delayed in recovering their boats
that the news of their coming would be spread over the
length and breadth of the Everglades before they could
enter them.
So much time had thus been wasted that before the
sloop could be taken to the proposed place of safety
the storm burst in all its fury. They were forced to
seek refuge in another place that was partially
exposed, but where with two anchors they could
probably have ridden out the gale. With but one, they
were dragged from their moorings soon after daylight,
and driven on the reef where the sloop now lay. Rust's
arm had been broken by the gybing of the main boom,
and, left alone, exposed to the fury of those raging
seas, he had given up all hope long before Sumner came
to his rescue.
"And to think," said Rust, in conclusion, "that the
fellow to whom I was doing all this meanness should
have come after me and offered to throw away his own
life to save mine! I tell you, gentlemen, it makes me
feel meaner 'n a toad-fish!"
CHAPTER XXII.
GOODBYE TO THE TRANSIT
THAT night the Norther broke, and by the following
morning the weather was of that absolutely perfect
character that makes the winter the most delightful
season of the year in southern Florida. The sun shone
with unclouded splendor, fish leaped from the clear
waters, gay plumaged birds flitted among the
mangroves, and made the air vocal with their happy
songs. All nature was full of life and rejoicing.
Although Lieutenant Carey was much disturbed by
learning that false reports had been spread among the
Indians concerning the nature of his expedition, and
realized that its difficulties would be greatly
increased thereby, he had no thought of abandoning it.
Therefore, by the earliest daylight, preparations were
made for repairing the damaged cruisers, and putting
them in condition for a new start. The stanch little
Psyche had been brought down the beach the day
before. There was a good supply of tools aboard the
schooner, and Sumner, who had fully recovered his
strength, was found to be so expert a shipwright that
he was intrusted with planning and directing the
repairs to the cruisers, while the Lieutenant, with
several men, went to examine into the condition of the
wrecked sloop, and see what could be done with
her.
They found her injuries so much less than was
expected, that within three days she had been hauled
off the reef and rendered sufficiently seaworthy for
the voyage back to Key
West.
REPAIRING THE "PUNKIN SEED".
In this time also Sumner finished his job on the
cruisers, and they were again in thorough order for
the work required of them.
Rust Norris was able to render them one service, by
guiding them to some cisterns from which they obtained
the supply of fresh water, without which they would
not have dared proceed on their cruise. His companion,
who was a good hunter and well acquainted with the
game resorts of that vicinity, provided them with
plenty of fresh venison. He also won Worth's regard by
giving him a turkey call, or whistle, made from one of
the wing bones of a wild turkey, and taking him off
before daylight one morning on a turkey hunt. From
this the boy returned fully as proud as the fine
gobbler he had shot had been a short time before. So
elated was he by this success that he declared himself
to be the hunter of the expedition from that time
forth, and promised to provide it with all necessary
meat.
By the close of the third day after the storm
everything was in readiness for a new start. That
evening was spent in writing letters to be sent back
by the sloop, and daylight of the following morning
saw both vessels standing out of the lagoon. Once
outside, the sloop bore away to the westward, its
occupants waving their hats and shouting good wishes
to those whom but a few days before they had tried
their best to injure.
"I declare!" said Sumner to Worth, "I don't know of
anything that makes a fellow feel better than to
succeed in turning an enemy into a friend. Now I shall
always like Rust Norris, and he will always like me,
while if no difficulty had arisen between us we might
have been on speaking terms all our lives without
caring particularly for each other."
"But, Sumner!" exclaimed Worth, in a grieved tone;
"aren't you ever going to care particularly for me,
because we have never been enemies?"
"Care for you, old man! After all we have gone
through with together, and after all the anxiety we
have had on account of each other? Why, Worth, if I
cared any more for you than I do, I'd pack you up in
cotton and send you home by express, for fear you
might get hurt."
"Then please don't," laughed the boy, "for I want
to see the Everglades, and do some more hunting before
I am sent home."
Although Worth was so impatient to see the 'Glades,
and though the Transit was headed directly for them,
he was obliged to content himself with seeing other
things for some days to come. For a whole week the
little schooner threaded her way through the most
bewildering maze of islands, reefs, and channels known
to this continent. There were thousands of keys of all
sizes and shapes, and all covered with the mangroves
that had built them. As for the oyster bars, sandbars,
and reefs, they were so numerous that, in finding her
way through them, the Transit was headed to every
point, half-point, and quarter-point of the compass
during each hour of her sailing time. The number of
times that she ran aground were innumerable, as were
those that she was compelled to turn back from some
blind channel and seek a new one.
Through all this bewildering maze of keys and
channels great tide rivers of crystal water
continually ebbed and flowed. In them uncounted
millions of fish, from huge silvery tarpon,
vampirelike devil-fish, and ravenous sharks, down to
tiny fellows, striped, spotted, or mottled with every
hue of the rainbow, rushed and sported, chased and
being chased, devouring and being devoured, but always
affording a fascinating kaleidoscope of darting forms
and flashing colors.
Nor was the birdlife of these Ten Thousand Islands
less interesting. It seemed as though the numbers of
the great Wader and Soarer families collected here
were almost as many as the fish on which they feasted.
Whole regiments of stately flamingoes, clad in their
pink hunting coats, stood solemnly on the mud flats.
Squadrons of snow-white pelicans sailed in company
with fleets of their more soberly plumaged comrades.
Great snowy herons, little white herons, great blue
herons, little blue herons, green herons, and
yellow-legged herons mingled with cranes and curlews
on the oyster bars. Ducks of infinite variety,
together with multitudes of coots and cormorants,
floated serenely on the placid waters. Overhead,
clouds of snowy ibises, outlined in pink by edgings of
roseate spoonbills, rose and fell and glinted in the
bright sunlight. Gannets, gulls, and ospreys hovered
above the fishing grounds. Bald-headed eagles watched
them from the tops of tall mangroves, ready at a
moment's notice to pounce down and rob them of their
prey. Far overhead, black specks against the brilliant
blue of the sky, sailed, on motionless pinions,
stately men-of-war hawks or frigate. birds -- most
graceful of all the soarers. All these, and many more,
the mere naming of which would fill a chapter, flocked
to these teeming fishing grounds, and afforded a
never-ending source of wonder and amusement to our
young canoemates and their companions.
Still, with all these, besides the unending
difficulties of the navigation to occupy their minds,
the end of a week found the boys heartily tired of
mangrove keys and blind channels, and anxious for a
change of scene. It was, therefore, with a feeling of
decided relief that a dark, unbroken line, stretching
north and south as far as the eye could reach, was
finally sighted and pronounced to be the pine woods of
the mainland. Approaching it with infinite difficulty
on account of the rapidly shoaling water, they at
length discovered a large stream, the water of which
was brackish. It was evidently one of the numerous
waterways draining the vast reservoirs of the 'Glades
into the sea. Here the exploring party was to leave
the Transit and take to the smaller craft, in which
they proposed to penetrate the interior.
Again an evening was devoted to writing letters to
be sent back by the schooner, and again all hands were
ordered to turn out by daylight.
Lieutenant Carey had decided to send one of the
cruisers back, and to take but one besides the three
canoes into the 'Glades. The recent difficulties of
navigation had shown him that a full crew would be
needed to carry the schooner back to deep water, and
he also imagined that the fewer boats the explorers
had to force through the 'Glades the easier they would
get along. The Indians, too, would be less suspicious
of a small party than of a large one. Thus he decided
to limit the party to himself and the two boys in the
canoes, with Quorum and one other man in the cruiser,
or five in all.
With a breakfast by lamplight, and the final
preparations hurried as much as possible, the sun was
just rising when the little fleet shoved off from the
Transit, and with flashing paddles entered the mouth
of the dark looking river, the waters of which, in all
probability, the keels of white men's boats were now
to furrow for the first time.
"Goodbye, Mr. Sloe! You want to hurry round to Cape
Florida, or we'll be there first!"
"Goodbye, Quorum! Look out for that woolly scalp of
yours!" came from the schooner.
"Goodbye! Good luck! Goodbye!" and then the canoes
rounded a wooded point, and were lost to sight of
those who watched their first plunge into the
trackless wilderness.
..
© 2001 Craig
O'Donnell, editor &
general factotum.
May not be reproduced without my permission. Go scan
your own damn stuff.
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