CHAPTER
XXXVIII.
LITTLE KO-WIK-A SAILS OUT TO SEA.
THERE was a long swell heaving in over the bar at
the mouth of the river, but no breakers; and the
little fleet, crossing it easily, laid a course down
the coast. A stretch of twenty miles lay before them
ere they would find another opening into which they
could run for shelter, and they were therefore
desirous of making the run before night. On most
waters this would not have been difficult; but just
here was a strong head current, that of the Gulf
Stream, running fully three miles an hour, and they
knew that to overcome this, and also to make twenty
miles during the day, would tax the sailing powers of
their small craft to the utmost. Nor could they all
sail. The Hu-la-lah had no centerboard, and
with the wind somewhat forward of abeam, the use of
her sail would only have driven her off shore. The
Lieutenant was therefore obliged to rely upon his
paddle and keep close to the coast. The cruiser, being
a slow sailer close-hauled, kept him company, but the
Psyche and Cupid drew gradually ahead,
and were soon out of hailing distance.
It was so delightful to find themselves again
sailing, and their canoes were doing so splendidly,
that the boys hated to stop. And why should they?
There was nothing to fear. They knew where they were
going, the others were in company, and a halting place
for the night had been agreed upon. They would stop
when they reached it, and that would be soon
enough.
Until noon the breeze was very light, but after
that it freshened and soon came off the land in angry
little gusts that suggested the propriety of reefing.
With a single reef in each of their sails, they ran
until late in the afternoon, when they sighted a cut
leading into the great landlocked sheet of Biscayne
Bay. They were to enter this bay and cruise down
behind its outer keys to Cape Florida, but it had been
decided that they should camp on the upper side of the
cut for that night.
The wind had increased in strength until now even
double-reefed sails could hardly be carried on the
canoes. The whole sky was covered with dark clouds,
while a bank of inky blackness was rising in the west.
It was evident that a wind squall of unusual violence
would shortly burst upon them, and almost at the same
moment both the canoemates lowered their sails,
jointed their paddles, and headed straight in for
land. As he lowered his sail and cast a glance astern
in search of the other boats, Sumner noticed a large
steamer coming down the coast. lie wondered if she
were not too close in for safety, but the immediate
demands of his situation quickly drove all thoughts of
her from his mind.
In the teeth of the spiteful gusts, and facing the
ominous blackness, they worked their way in until they
could see the very place that the station keeper had
described to them as being a suitable camping ground.
Five minutes more would take them to its shelter. Just
then Sumner shouted to Worth, and drew his attention
to a strange craft that he had been watching for
several minutes. It was coming out of the cut, running
dead before the wind, but yawing and gybing in a
manner that indicated either utter recklessness or
absolute ignorance on then part of its crew. The two
canoes were so close together that Worth could hear
Sumner plainly as he shouted:
"It's an Indian canoe, and apparently unmanageable.
I'm going to up sail and run down for a look at it. Do
you paddle in to shore, and be out of harm's way
before that squall bursts."
"Oh, Sumner, don't run any risks!" shouted
Worth.
"All right, I'll be careful. But you'll make things
a great deal easier for me if you will start at once
for shore. That's a good fellow."
So Worth did as his friend desired, and Sumner,
hoisting his double-reefed mainsail, bore down on the
strange canoe, which would otherwise have passed him
at quite a distance. It was going at a tremendous
pace, and as the two craft neared each other, Sumner
saw to his consternation that the sole occupant of the
dugout was a child who stretched out its little arms
imploringly towards him. He saw this as the runaway
canoe, under full sail, shot across his bow.
A tumult of thought flashed through the boy's mind
like lightning. He was near enough to land to reach it
in safety. That child, if left alone, was rushing to
certain destruction. He might be able to rescue it,
and he might not. The chances were that he would lose
his own life in the attempt. Very well; could he lose
it in a better cause? What would his father have done
under similar circumstances? That last question was
sufficient. There was no longer any room for
argument.
Even during his moment of hesitation the boy had
been loosening the reef line of his mainsail, and
simultaneously with his decision a quick pull at the
halyard exposed its full surface to the wind. Over
heeled the canoe, with Sumner leaning far out on the
weather side. Then her head paid off, and under the
influence of the first blast of the squall she sprang
away like a frightened animal, in the direction taken
by the runaway.
That same afternoon a fleet of Indian canoes,
containing Ul-we and his companions, had crossed
Biscayne Bay from the mainland. Instead of descending
the river on which they had left our explorers, they
had skirted the edge of the 'Glades to another that
flowed into the bay, the secret of which they did not
choose to have Lieutenant Carey learn. Although it
still lacked a day of new moon, they decided to take
advantage of the fair wind, cross the bay, and spend
the intervening time in catching and smoking a supply
of fish at a point several miles above Cape
Florida.
In the canoe with Ul-we was his six-year-old
brother, the little Ko-wik-a, who was sometimes
allowed to hold the sheet while they were sailing, and
who considered himself fully competent to manage the
boat alone. However, being very wise in some things,
he did not say this nor express in words his longing
for a chance to prove his skill. He simply waited for
an opportunity that was not long in coming.
After the Indians had pitched their camp, Ul-we,
taking Ko-wik-a with him, went up to the cut to set a
net into which fish would run with the flood tide.
Beaching the place, he went into the mangroves to cut
some poles, leaving his little brother in the
canoe.
This was Ko-wik-a's chance, and he was quick to
seize it. He would now show Ul-we that if he was
little, he could sail a boat. The big brother had
hardly disappeared when the little one shoved the
canoe out from the mangroves and grasped the sheet in
his chubby hands. The sail was already hoisted. He did
not try to steer, but the wind and swiftly ebbing tide
did that for him. n A minute later and he was running
out of the cut at racing speed, wholly jubilant over
the complete success of his experiment. When he got
ready to turn round and go back, he became a little
frightened to find out that something more than
wishing to do so was necessary. When his craft shot
out from the cut, and, leaving the land behind, headed
out into an infinitely larger body of water than the
little fellow had ever before seen, he became
thoroughly demoralized, and began to call loudly for
Ul-we.
Poor Ul-we had just discovered that both his little
brother, whom he loved better than anyone or anything
in the world, and his canoe had disappeared, and was
rushing frantically towards the outer beach. His
instinct told him what had happened, and his one hope
was to reach the end of the cut in time to swim off
and intercept the runaway.
When he did get there it was only in time to catch
a fleeting glimpse of his own well-known sail far out
at sea, with another much whiter and smaller one
behind it. Then a cruel squall burst over the ocean.
In a cloud of rain and mist, borne forward by the
fierce wind, the two sails disappeared and the whole
landscape was blotted from view.
From a place of safety on the opposite side of the
cut, though unseen by Ul-we, Worth Manton strained his
eyes for a last glimpse of the Psyche's fluttering
signal flag, and the others, rapidly nearing him,
wondered at his gesture of despair as it was blotted
out.
The squall was long and fierce, and by the time it
had passed, the darkness of night had shut in and the
stars were shining.
CHAPTER XXXIX.
A BLACK SQUALL AND THE STRANDED STEAMER.
ALTHOUGH the Psyche was flying at racing speed dead
before the wind, which freshened with each moment, and
was rolling frightfully under her press of canvas, she
was no match in running for the long dugout of which
she was in pursuit. Had the latter been properly
trimmed and steered, the light cedar canoe could never
have caught it. As it was, Sumner saw that he was
gaining, but so slowly that he could not hope to
overtake it before being carried miles out to Sea. In
that weather and with night coming on, this was by no
means a cheerful prospect. Still he had no thought of
turning back. He had entered upon this race with a
full knowledge of its possible consequences, and he
would either save the helpless little figure that had
appealed to him so imploringly, or perish with it.
So the clutch on his deck tiller tightened, and the
taut mainsheet held in the other hand was not
slackened a single inch, until the hissing rush of the
black squall was in his ears. Then the canoe was
sharply luffed, the Sheet was dropped, the halyard
cast off, and the white sail fell to the deck like a
broken wing. As it was gathered in and made fast with
a turn of the sheet, the squall burst on the stanch
little craft and heeled it far over. It offered too
little resistance to be capsized, and a minute later,
steadied by the double-bladed paddle, it was once more
got before the wind and was scudding under bare
poles.
While doing all this, Sumner had been too busy to
look after the object of his pursuit. Now he could not
see it, and he almost choked with the thought that his
brave effort had been made in vain, after all. No,
there it was, close at hand, but no longer showing a
sail or flying from him. Heeling over before the
blast, its long boom had been thrust into the water,
and in an instant the slender craft had been upset.
Now, full of water, it floated on one side like a log.
At first, Sumner failed to see its tiny occupant, and
the thought that he had been drowned almost within
reach was a bitter one. But no. Hurrah! There he is!
With head just above the water, and chubby hands
clutching at the slippery sides of his craft, the
plucky little chap was still fighting for life.
As the Psyche swept alongside, steered to a
nicety, Sumner reached out, and, nearly overturning
his canoe by the effort, caught the little fellow by
an arm. The water was pouring in over the cockpit
coaming, and had the child been a pound heavier, the
next instant would have seen two helplessly drifting
canoes instead of one. As it was, he was hauled in and
safely deposited in the inch or more of water that
swashed above the cockpit floor.
SUMNER RESCUES KO-WIK-A.
With infinite self-possession the
child smiled up into the face of his rescuer and
lisped: "How, Summer !"
Then the boy recognized the little Ko-wik-a whose
acquaintance he had made in Ul-we's camp, and as a
relief to his own overstrained; nerves, called him a
littler imp, and abused him roundly for getting them
into such a scrape. At the same time tears stood in
his eyes, and he could have hugged the child cuddling
between his knees and smiling so confidingly in his
face.
Though the rescue of Ko-wik-a had been so happily
accomplished, they were still in a sad plight --
driving out to sea in an eggshell, with no chance of
battling back against the tempest, and the darkness of
night enshrouding them. With each moment the
storm-lashed waves were mounting higher. All Sumner's
skill was required to prevent the canoe from broaching
to and turning over. How much longer would his
strength hold out? Already he felt it failing. He
would soon become exhausted, and then --
Hark! What was that? The note of a steam whistle?
Yes, and another, and still others, struggling back
hoarsely against the wind; Then a light twinkled
through the darkness, and directly other lights were
outlining a huge black shape right in their track.
Sumner remembered the steamer he had seen just
before parting from Worth. Could this be she? What was
she doing there, apparently at anchor?
Driving under her stern, a few minutes' hard
paddling brought the canoe into the quiet calm of the
towering lee. Then Sumner shouted again and again, but
the voice of the ship calling for aid in her own
distress drowned his cries. After a while the whistle
notes ceased, and he shouted again. This time he was
beard, and an answering hail came from the deck high
above him, "Who is it, and where are you?"
Sumner answered, and in a few minutes a port low
down in the ship's side was flung open, and a flood of
light poured from it. Two ropes were lowered, and
Sumner getting the bights under the bow and stern of
his canoe, it, with its occupants, was lifted to the
level of the open port. Strong arms first received the
little Ko-wik-a, and then helped the young canoeman
aboard the steamer.
"Where is your vessel?" demanded the captain, who
was among those assembled to witness this unexpected
arrival.
"There," answered Sumner, pointing to the
Psyche.
"You don't mean to say that you are navigating the
ocean in that cockleshell?"
"Yes, I do; though I don't expect I should have
navigated it much longer if I hadn't fallen in with
you just as I did. How do you happen to be at anchor
here, and what were you whistling for?"
"We are not at anchor. We are aground, and I was
blowing the whistle in the hope of attracting some
vessel or vessels, into which we could lighter our
cargo. Now I suppose I shall have to throw it
overboard."
"What for?" asked Sumner. "With this offshore wind
there won't be any heavy sea, and unless you have
stove a hole in her bottom she ought to float with the
flood tide."
"Flood tide! Isn't it the top of the flood now?"
exclaimed the captain.
"No; it's the very last of the ebb, and the flood
will give you a couple of feet more water."
"Are you certain of that?"
"Certain."
"Then you are a trump!" cried the captain. "And I'm
away out of my reckoning, somehow. Your coming just as
you have has undoubtedly saved my cargo, for I should
have begun heaving it overboard by this time. You see,
I was hugging the coast to escape the force of the
Gulf as much as possible, but was keeping a sharp
lookout for the red buoy that marks the end of the
reef. I can't imagine how we missed it, unless it has
gone; but we did, and when Fowey was lighted, I saw
that we were too close in shore. I didn't know that we
were inside of the reef; but we struck within five
minutes after I altered her course, and that was
nearly half an hour ago. We don't seem to have hit
very hard, and she lies easy without making any water;
but she's here to stay, unless, as you say, the flood
tide will lift her off. You are certain that this is
the last of the ebb ?"
"As certain as that I am standing here," answered
Sumner, who had a very distinct recollection of how
the current had rushed out through the cut.
"Then let us go up into my room and have some
supper. There you can tell me how you happened to be
out here in such weather with a pickaninny aboard
while we wait for the tide."
How safe and comfortable the great ship seemed,
after that wild race to sea in a canoe! How the
captain and mates and passengers marveled at Sumner's
adventures, and what a pet they all made of little
Ko-wik-a. As for that self-possessed young Indian, he
accepted all the attentions lavished upon him in the
most matter-of-fact manner, and with the utmost
composure. He expressed no surprise at anything he
saw; but his keen little eyes studied all the details
of his novel surroundings, and he stored away scraps
of startling information with which to astonish his
young Everglade comrades for many a day.
The squall passed and the sea smoothed out its
wrinkles soon after the crew of the Psyche came aboard
?, and shortly before midnight the rising tide lifted
the great ship gently off the reef. She was backed to
a safe distance from it, and there anchored to await
the coming of daylight.
Knowing what anxiety his friends and Ko-wik-a's
friends must be suffering on their account, Sumner
determined to return to them at the earliest possible
moment. The first signs of dawn, therefore, found the
Psyche, with her crew and passenger, once more afloat.
A hearty cheer followed the brave little craft as she
glided away from the great ship, and in less than an
hour she was paddled gently up to where the other
canoes and the cruiser lay on the beach.
It had been a sad night to the inmates of that
lonely camp, and most of its long hours had been spent
in a fruitless watching for the return of the
well-loved lad, whom most of them had such slight
hopes of ever again seeing. Only Worth had faith, and
declared that while he did not know how Sumner would
manage it, he was confident that he would turn up
again all right somehow. Towards morning their anxiety
found relief in a troubled sleep, and as Sumner walked
into the camp there was none to greet him or note his
coming.
"Hello, in the camp!" he shouted. "Here it is
almost sunrise and no breakfast ready yet!"
No surprise could be more complete or more joyful
than that. Worth was the first to spring to his
feet.
"He's come hack safe and sound!" he shouted. "Oh,
Sumner, I knew you would! I was sure of it, and told
them so!"
"The next time I let you away from my side it will
only be at the end of a long rope, you young rascal,
you!" said the Lieutenant, after the extravagant joy
of the first greeting had somewhat subsided.
After an unusually late and happy breakfast, they
sailed through the cut and into the beautiful bay to
which it led. They soon discovered the camp to which
Ko-wik-a belonged, and the canoe that had rescued him
had the honor of bearing him to it. He was received
with a wondering joy that was none the less real for
its lack of extravagant manifestation. As Ul-we took
the child from Sumner's arms, be turned his face away
to hide the emotion that would be unbecoming in an
Indian and a warrior. It was there, however, and the
look of intense gratitude that he gave the boy was
more expressive than any words that he could have
uttered.
Then the Indians broke their camp, and they and the
whites sailed away together to the appointed
rendezvous on Cape Florida.
CHAPTER XL.
THE HAPPY ENDING OF THE CRUISE.
ON their entire cruise our young canoemates had not
enjoyed a day's run so much as they did this one in
company with the Indians who had crossed the
Everglades with them, but of whom they had seen so
little. The wind was so fair that the boats without
centerboards could sail as well as those with, and the
run was a series of match races, of which the Psyche
and Cupid were winners in nearly every case.
As Ul-we's canoe had been lost the night before,
the Lieutenant invited both him and the little
Ko-wik-a to a sail in the Hu-la-lah, and even the
self-contained young Indian was compelled to express
his admiration of the graceful craft. When he ventured
to ask what such a canoe would cost, and the price was
named, his face indicated his despair at ever being
able to accumulate such a sum, and he murmured:
"Heap money! Injun no get um."
At Cape Florida, while the camps were being pitched
but a short distance from each other, the boys went
with Ul-we to set another fish trap, such as he had
been about to prepare when Ko-wik-a ran away with his
canoe the day before. The little fellow went with
them, but he no longer showed any inclination to go
sailing on his own hook. After Ul-we had fixed his
trap they went over to a submerged bank that extends
southward several miles from the cape. Here, while the
boys waded in the shoal water collecting sea
porcupines, urchins, tiny squids, bits of live coral,
and numberless other marine curiosities, Ul-we was
busy gathering and throwing into his canoe a quantity
of big greenish shells that looked like so many rocks.
When they were ready to go back, and Sumner saw this
novel cargo, he exclaimed:
"Good! Now we will have some conch soup for
dinner!"
"How do you know?" asked Worth.
"Because here are the conchs, and Ul-we has enough
for all of us."
"Those things!" cried Worth, in a tone of disgust.
"You surely don't mean that they are good to eat?"
"Yes, I do," laughed Sumner, picking up one of the
shells and showing Worth the white meat with which its
exquisitely pink interior was filled. "I mean that
these fellows can be made into the very best soup I
know of."
"Seems to me I have seen that kind of a shell
before," said Worth, "but I never knew that any one
ever ate their contents."
"Of course you have seen the shells. You will find
them in half the farmhouses of the country, where,
with the point of the small end cut off, they are used
as dinner horns. As for the eating part, you wait till
Quorum gives you a chance to test it this evening. If
you don't find it fully as good as sofkee, then I
shall be mistaken."
The boys had been greatly disappointed at not
finding either the Man tons' yacht nor the Transit
awaiting them at the cape. Several times in the course
of the afternoon they climbed to the top of an
abandoned lighthouse tower near their camp, in the
hope of sighting a sail bound in that direction. As
they did so just before sunset, they saw several far
over towards the mainland, but they were too distant
for their character to be distinguished.
Never had they seen anything so exquisitely
beautiful or so royally gorgeous as that Southern
sunset, and they lingered at the top of the tower
until the last of its marvellous flame tints had
burned out, and the delicate crescent of the new moon
was sinking into the 'Glades behind the distant pine
trees of the mainland.
At supper time Worth was introduced to conch soup,
and he agreed with Sumner that it was fully equal to
sofkee.
After supper the boys strolled over to the Indian
camp, to which Lieutenant Carey was attracted soon
afterwards by their shouts of laughter. He did not
recognize the boys until they spoke to him, for they
had persuaded Ul-we to array them as he had after the
forest fire, and they were now in full Indian
costume.
In the mean time the distant sails that they had
sighted from the top of the old tower had been running
across the bay before a brisk breeze, and two vessels
had quietly come to anchor just inside the cape. The
glow of the campfires could be seen from these, and
from one of them a boat containing several persons
pulled in to the beach. A minute later two gentlemen,
whose footsteps were unheard in the sand, stood on the
edge of the circle of firelight, and one of them said
to the other, in a low and disappointed tone:
"It's only an Indian camp after all, Tracy,"
"So it is," replied the other, regretfully. "Still,
they may be able to give us some news. Let's go in and
inquire."
At that moment the attention of the Indians was
equally divided between Sumner, who was apparently
accumulating a fortune by taking half dollars from
little Ko-wik-a's mouth and ears, and Worth, who was
attempting to dance what he called a clog with Indian
variations, to the music of Lieutenant Carey's
whistle. Suddenly little Ko-wik-a, who was nervously
excited over Sumner's wonderful performance, uttered a
startled cry and sprang to one side, staring into the
darkness.
All the others looked in the same direction, and
probably the dignified Mr. Manton was never more
surprised in his life than when a young Indian bounded
to his side, flung his arms about his neck, and called
him "Dear father!" His brother was equally amazed when
another young Indian sprang to where he was standing,
seized his hand, and called him "Mr. Tracy!"
THE SURPRISE AND DELIGHT OF THE TWO GENTLEMEN CAN
BETTER BE IMAGINED THAN DESCRIBED.
When they discovered, by their
voices and by what they were incoherently saying, that
these young Indians were not Indians at all, but the
very boys of whom they were in search, tanned to the
color of mahogany, and dressed in borrowed finery, the
surprise and delight of the two gentlemen can better
be imagined than described.
"Is it possible," cried Mr. Manton, holding Worth
off at arm's-length so that the firelight shone full
upon him, "that this can be the pale faced chap with a
cough who left me in St. Augustine a couple of months
ago? Why, son, you've grown an inch taller and, I
should say, six in breadth!" Then, turning to the
other boy, and scanning his features closely, he
added: "And is this Sumner Rankin, the son of my old
schoolmate Rankin, whom I lost sight of after he went
into the navy? My boy, for your father's sake, and for
the sake of what you have done for Worth; this winter,
I want you hereafter to regard me as a father, and
continue to act as this boy's elder brother. Ever
since Tracy told me of you T have been almost as
impatient to meet you as to rejoin Worth, for as
schoolmates your father and I were as dear to each
other as own brothers."
While this joyful meeting was taking place, a boat
from the Transit had come ashore, and Ensign Sloe was
reporting to Lieutenant Carey. Then the whole party
had to sit down where they were, and, surrounded by
the grave-faced Indians, tell and listen to as much of
the past two months' experience as could be crowded
into as many hours.
The Mantons were charmed with Lieutenant Carey, and
he with them, while towards Ul-we their gratitude was
unbounded. Old Quorum, too, was introduced, and warmly
thanked for his fidelity to the young canoemates.
Be fore the schooners sailed for Key West, which
they did the next day Lieutenant Carey presented Ul-we
with the Hu-la-lah, and Worth
gave him the handsomest
rifle in his father's collection, besides promising
to send little Ko-wik-a a light canoe for his very
own. Mr. Manton and Uncle Tracy between them not only
purchased from the Indians, at fabulous prices, the
costumes in which they found the boys, but everything
else they could think of that would aid in reproducing
their present appearance and surroundings for the
benefit of their Northern friends. The properties they
thus acquired included bear, wolf, panther, and deer
skins, and even a sofkee kettle with its great wooden
spoon. Besides this, they and the Lieutenant so loaded
the Indian canoes with provisions, tobacco, cartridges
for their rifles and shotguns, and other useful
things, that this occasion formed a theme for
conversation about every campfire throughout the
length and breadth of the Everglades for many a long
day. Should Lieutenant Carey and his party ever care
to penetrate those wilds again, they will be certain
of a hearty welcome, and of being allowed to go where
they please.
Then the two yachts set sail for their run down the
reef to Key West, where another joyful greeting
awaited the young canoemates.
Before the Mantons left there, it was arranged that
Mrs. Rankin should dispose of her Key West home as
soon as possible, and sail for New York, where Mr.
Manton said he had a cosy little house waiting for
just such tenants as herself and Sumner.
"Be sure and come as quickly as you can," he said,
"for I want my new boy to design and build me a yacht
this summer for next winter's cruising."
"I shall need one too," added Uncle Tracy, "and I
think I know of several more that will be wanted."
"Don't forget to bring the Psyche with you,
Sumner!" shouted Worth, the last thing.
"As if I would!" answered Sumner. "Whatever boats I
may own, I will never part with that dear canoe so
long as I live."
That evening, as the boy and his mother sat
discussing their pleasant prospects for the future,
Sumner said:
"Well, mother, I have learned one thing from the
past two months' experience, and that is that wealthy
people can be just as kind and considerate, and may be
as dearly loved, as poor ones. I didn't believe it at
one time, but now I know it."
THE END.
..
© 2001 Craig
O'Donnell, editor &
general factotum.
May not be reproduced without my permission. Go scan
your own damn stuff.
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