The Young Marooners on the Florida Coast

by John Henry Goldfrap

  CHAPTER XXIX

  REMOVAL TO THE PRAIRIE--NIGHT ROBBERY--FOLD--DANGEROUS TRAP--MYSTERIOUSSIGNALS--BITTER DISAPPOINTMENT

  On Monday morning, the wind blew so favourably up the river, that evenbefore the tide began to rise, the young movers had loaded their raft,prepared a rude sail, and were ready to start. The raft which had beenconstructed for the purpose of rescuing Sam, had been originally sosmall, and the logs were now so thoroughly soaked with water, that tomake it carry what they wished at their first load they were compelledto add to its dimensions. But this did not detain them long, and afterall was completed, and the baggage stowed away, Sam, by the help ofHarold's crutches, hobbled to the beach, and seated himself at the helm,while Harold took the oars, and Robert, Mary and Frank went by theirwell marked path through the woods, to meet them at the orange landing.

  The passage by water occupied nearly three hours, and when the clumsyfloat slowly approached the shore, Harold could see through the narrowstrip of woodland, that Robert had felled two palmettoes on the edge ofthe other river, and was now engaged in cutting them up.

  "Can it be, Robert," he asked, on landing, "that some bird of the airhas carried to you the message I wanted to send? Are you not preparinganother raft?"

  "I am," he replied. "It occurred to me that if we could complete thisraft by the turn of the tide, we might take the load to the _prairielanding_, and yours might be floated hack to the old encampment foranother cargo."

  The idea was so valuable, that the boys scarcely allowed themselves timeto eat or to rest until it was accomplished; and when at last the tidewas seen moving towards the sea, they separated, Robert, Mary, and Samgoing to the prairie landing, where they soon had the tent spread, and afire burning; and Harold and Frank floating back to the place of theirformer residence, where they secured the raft, and calling Nanny, Dora,and the kids, returned overland to join the company at the new home.

  For several days they were occupied with the labour of transportingtheir baggage, and fitting up their present abode with comforts andconveniences. The tent was not established at the landing where it waspitched the first night, but on the edge of the prairie, a furlongdistant, and within a stone's throw of the spring.

  On the third night after their removal, they experienced a loss whichcaused them to feel both sad and anxious. Nanny and her kids, having noplace provided for them, had selected a nice retreat under the shelterof a mossy oak, and made that their lounging place by day, and theirsleeping place by night. At the time referred to the boys had justretired to bed, when they heard one of the kids bleating piteously, andits cry followed by the tramp of the others running to the tent forprotection. Harold and Robert sprang to their guns, and calling thedogs, seized each a burning brand, and hurried in the direction of thekid, whose wail of pain and fear became every moment more faint, untilit was lost in the distance. The depredator was without doubt apanther. Such a circumstance was calculated to dishearten the boysexceedingly; for it forewarned them that not only were they likely tolose all their pets, but that there was no safety to themselves, andparticularly none to Frank, if he should incautiously straggle into apanther's way. They called Nanny to a spot near the tent, fastened herby the dog's chain to a bush, threw a supply of wood on the firesufficient to burn for some hours, and retired to bed sad and uneasy.Returning from their unsuccessful sally, Harold significantly shook hishead, and said, "I will be ready for him before he has time to be hungryagain."

  There was no other disturbance that night. Frank was asleep at the timeof the accident, and knew nothing of it until the next morning, whenseeing Nanny fastened near the tent, he asked why that was, and wherewas the other kid. "Poor Jinny!" he exclaimed, on hearing of its fate(the kids, being a male and female, had been called Paul and Virginia)."Poor Jinny! So you are gone!" He went to Nanny, the chief mourner,and patting her smooth side said, in a pitying tone, "Poor Nanny! Ain'tyou sorry for your daughter? Only think, Nanny, that she is eaten up bya panther!" Nanny looked sorrowful enough, and replied, "Baa!" Butwhether that meant, "I am so sorry my daughter is dead," or, "I wish youwould loose my chain, and let me eat some of this nice grass," Frankcould not determine. After a breakfast, by no means the most cheerful,Harold said,

  "Robert, we must make a picket fence for the protection of these poorbrutes. But as I have a particular reason for wishing some freshvenison before night, I want to arrange matters so that either you or Ishall go out early enough to be sure of obtaining it."

  Robert urged him to go at once, but disliking the appearance of avoidinglabour, he preferred to remain, and aid them through the most laboriouspart of the proposed work. The palisade was made of strong stakes,eight or ten feet long, sharpened at one end, and driven into a narrowtrench, which marked the dimensions of the enclosure. Harold assistedto cut and transport to the spot the requisite number of stakes; andshortly after noon took Frank as his companion, and left Robert and Samto complete the work. He had not been gone more than an hour and ahalf, before Robert heard the distant report of a heavily loaded gun, inthe direction of the spot where the brant and ducks had been shot.

  "Eh! eh!" said Sam, "Mas Harrol load he gun mighty hebby for a rifle!"

  "Yes," said Robert, "and he has chosen a very poor weapon for shootingducks."

  The workmen were too intently engaged to reflect that the report whichthey heard could not have proceeded from a rifle. In the course of halfan hour another report, but of a sharper sound, was heard much nearer,and appearing to proceed from the neighbourhood of the orange-trees, onthe tongue of land. Robert now looked inquiringly at Sam, and was aboutto remark, "That gun cannot be Harold's--it has not the crack of arifle;" but the doubt was only momentary, and soon passed away. Longafterwards the familiar sound of Harold's piece was heard in the west,and a little before sunset Harold and Frank appeared, bearing a fatyoung deer between them.

  "That looks nice; but you have been unfortunate, Harold," said Robert,who having finished the pen, and introduced into it Nanny and the twoyoung ones, had wiped his brows, and sat down to rest.

  "Why so?"

  "In getting no more."

  Harold looked surprised, but considering the remark as a sort ofcompliment to his general character, returned,

  "O, that must be expected sometimes. But come, Robert, if you are nottoo weary, I shall be glad of your assistance in a little work beforedark. I wish to post up a notice here, that night robbers had betterkeep away."

  By their united efforts they succeeded in constructing a very simplethough dangerous trap, which Harold said he hoped would give them a deadpanther before morning. He laid Riley's rifle upon two forked stakes,about a foot from the ground, and fastened it so that any movementforwards would bring the trigger against an immovable pin, and springit. He then tied a tempting piece of venison to a small pole, which wasbound to the rifle in a range with the course of the ball. And to makeassurance doubly sure, he drove down a number of stakes around the bait,so that nothing could take hold of it, except in such direction as toreceive the load from the gun.

  "Now," said he, after having tried the working of his gun, by chargingit simply with powder and pulling at the pole, as he supposed a wildbeast would pull at the bait, then loading it with ball and setting itready for deadly use--"Now, if there is in these woods a panther that isweary of life, I advise him to visit this place to-night."

  The dogs were tied up, and the work was done. So long as the boys wereengaged in making and setting their trap their minds were absorbed inits details, and they conversed about nothing else. But when that wasfinished, Harold referred to Robert's remark about his hunting, andsaid, "I was unfortunate, it is true, but it was only in going to thewrong place; for I got all that I shot at. But what success had you,for I heard your gun also."

  "My gun!" responded Robert, "no, indeed. I heard two guns up the river,and supposed you were trying your skill in shooting ducks with a rifle."

  Harold stopped,
and stared at him in the dim twilight. "Not your gun,did you say? Then did Sam go out?"

  "No. He was working steadily with me, until a few minutes before youreturned."

  The boys exchanged with each other looks of trouble and anxiety. "Didyou hear any gun in reply to mine?" Harold asked. Robert replied he hadnot.

  "Then," said Harold, in a voice tremulous with emotion, "I am afraidthat our worst trouble is to come; for either there are Indians on theisland, or our friends have come for us, and we have left no notice onour flag-staff to tell them where we are."

  Robert wrung his hands in agony. "O, what an oversight again! when wehad resolved so faithfully to give every signal we could devise. I'llget my gun! It may not be too late for an answer."

  He ran with great agitation into the tent, and brought out his gun, buthesitated. "What if those we heard were fired by enemies, instead offriends?"

  "In that case," replied Harold, "we must run our risk. If those wereIndian guns, it will be vain to attempt concealment. They have alreadyseen our traces; and if they are bent on mischief, we shall feel it.Let us give the signal."

  They fired gun after gun, charging them with powder only, and hearingthe echoes reverberate far away in the surrounding forest; but no soundexcept echoes returned. The person who fired those mysterious guns hadeither left the island, or was indisposed to reply.

  Many were the speculations they now interchanged upon the subject, andgravely did the two elder boys hint to each other, in languageintelligible only to themselves, that there was now more to fear than tohope. They ate their supper in silence, and Mary and Frank wentsorrowfully to bed. Robert, Harold and Sam sat up late, after thelights were extinguished, watching for the dreaded approach of Indians,and devising various plans in case of attack. At last they alsoretired, taking turns to keep guard during the whole night. All wasquiet until near morning; when, in the midst of Sam's watch, they werearoused by hearing near at hand the sharp report of a rifle. In aninstant the excited boys were on their feet, and standing beside theirsentry, guns in hand, prepared to repel what they supposed to be anIndian attack. But Sam sung out in gleeful tone:

  "No Injin! no Injin! but de trap. Only yerry[#] how he growl! I tellyou he got de lead!"

  [#] Yerry, hear.

  The boys hastily kindled a torch, loosed the dogs, ran to the trap, andfound, not a panther indeed, but a large wild cat, rolling and growlingin mortal agony. The dogs sprang fiercely upon it, and in less than twominutes it lay silent and motionless, its keen eye quenched, and itsonce spasmed limbs now softly flexible in death. They took it up. Itwas nearly as large as Mum, being quite as tall, though not so heavy.Before they had ceased their examinations the grey streak of dawngleamed above the eastern woods, and instead of retiring to rest again,as their weariness strongly prompted, they prepared for the duties ofthe opening day.

  These duties appeared to be so contradictory, that they scarcely knewwhat plan to pursue. It was clear that some one or more should gowithout delay to the coast, to ascertain whether their friends were orhad been there. But who should go, and who should stay? If there wereIndians abroad, it would be dangerous to divide their little force; andyet all could not go, for Sam was lame. Harold offered to go alone; butthe others, burning with the hope that their father might yet be on theisland, or within sight, insisted on bearing him company. Sam alsohelped to settle the question, by saying:

  "Go, Mas Robbut, and little Missus, and Mas Frank; go all o' you. Don'tbe 'fraid for me; s'pose Injin come, he nebber trouble nigger."

  This remark was based upon the well known fact that Indians seldominterfere with negroes. And encouraged thus to leave him a second timealone, the young people resolved to go in a body to the coast; agreeingwith him, however, that if he saw any danger he should give them timelywarning by setting on fire a fallen pine-top.

  Carrying what arms they could, and sending their dogs on either side asscouts, they walked swiftly along their well known path to the seacoast.No accident happened, no sign of danger appeared; everything was asusual on the way, and at the place of their old encampment. Butscarcely had they reached the oak, before Harold, pointing to the earth,softened by a rain two nights before, cried out:

  "Look here, Robert! The tracks of two persons wearing shoes!"

  Robert's unpractised eye would never have detected the signs whichHarold's Indian tuition enabled him so readily to discover; he couldscarcely distinguish, after the closest scrutiny, more than the deepindentation of a boot-heel. But that was enough; a boot-heel proved thepresence of a boot, and a boot proved the presence of a white man. Thatone fact relieved them from all apprehension that the visitors wereIndians.

  They fired their guns, to attract if possible the attention of thestrangers; giving volley after volley, in repeated succession, andscanning the coast in every direction; but it was without the desiredresult--the persons were gone. Their dogs had by this time gone to aspot near the bluff, where there had been a fire, and were engaged ineating what the boys discovered, on inspection, to be a ham-bone andscattered crumbs of bread. On descending the bluff, where footprintswere sharply defined in the yielding sand, Frank exclaimed:

  "Here is _William's_ track! I know it--I know it is William's!"

  The others examined it, and asked how he knew it was William's.

  "I know it," said he, "by that W. When father gave him that pair ofthick boots for bad weather, William drove a great many tacks into thesole; and when I asked him why he did so, he said it was to make themlast longer, and also to know them again if they should be stolen, forthere was his name. In the middle of one sole he drove nine tacks,making that W., and in the other he drove seven, so as to make an H.;for he said his name was William Harper. Yes, look here," pointing tothe other track, "here is the H., too."

  There was now not the shadow of a doubt that the track thus ingeniouslyidentified was William's. Then whose was that other, formed by a light,well shaped boot? Every heart responded. The elder boys looked on withagitated faces; Mary burst into tears, and Frank, casting himselfpassionately down, laid his wet cheek upon that loved foot-print, andkissed it.

  But he was gone now--though he had been so near--gone without a word, ora sign, to say that he was coming back. Gone? Perhaps not. Perhaps asmoke might recall him, if the guns did not. Harold silently ascendedthe bluff, and with one of Frank's matches fired the grass placedbeneath the heap of wood near the flag-staff. The smoke rose; itattracted the attention of the others, and soon they heard Harold callfrom a distance, "Come here, all of you! Here is something more."

  They ran together, Robert and Mary taking each a hand of Frank; and whenthey reached the flag-staff, saw a paper fastened to it by wooden pinsdriven into the bark, and on the paper, written in large roundcharacters:

  "_Five Thousand Dollars Reward_

  "Will be cheerfully paid to any one who shall restore to me in safety aboat's company, lost from Tampa Bay on the 26th of October last. Theywere dragged to sea by a devil-fish, and when last seen were near thisisland. The company consisted of my nephew, Harold McIntosh, aged nearlyfifteen, having black hair and eyes; and my three children, RobertGordon, aged fourteen; Mary Gordon, aged eleven; and Frank Gordon, agedseven years; all having light hair and blue eyes.

  "The above reward will be paid for the aforesaid company, with theirboat and boat's furniture; or one thousand dollars for any one of thepersons, or for such information as shall enable me to know certainlywhat has become of them.

  "Information may be sent to me at Tampa Bay, care of Major ----,commanding officer; or to Messrs. ---- & Co., Charleston, S. C.; or toR. H----, Esquire, Savannah, Georgia.

  "Dec. 9, 1830."CHARLES GORDON, M.D."

  Underneath was the following postscript in pencil:

  "P.S. The aforesaid company have evidently been upon this island withinten days past. I have searched the coast and country here in almostevery direction. They appear to have left, and I trust for hom
e. Shouldany fatality attend their voyage, they will probably be heard of betweenthis island and Tampa Bay. C. G."

  The young people were overwhelmed. "Poor father!" Mary said with achoking voice, "how disappointed he will be when he reaches home, andfinds that we are not there! And poor mother! if she is there I know itwill almost kill her."

  "But father _will_ come again--he will come right back--I know he will,"Frank murmured resolutely through his tears.

  "Yes, if mother is not too sick to be left," conjectured Mary.

  "Come, children," said Robert, with an air of sullen resolve, "it is ofno use to stand here idle. Let us go back to the prairie, and build ourboats."

  "But not before we have left word on the flag-staff to tell where we areto be found," Harold added. A bitter smile played around the corners ofRobert's mouth, as muttering something about "locking the door after thesteed is stolen," he took out his pencil, and wrote in deep blackletters,

  "The lost company, together with Sam, a servant, are to be found at asmall prairie three or four miles south-east from this point. We havelost our boat, and are building another.

  "Dec. 10, 1830. ROBERT GORDON."

  They collected another pile of wood and grass for a fire signal neartheir flag-staff, and then with slow, sad steps, turned their faces oncemore to the prairie.