by Carol Norton
CHAPTER XXI.
THE CASTAWAYS.
IT was lucky for the captain that he was wise to the resources of theFlorida coast. A stranger to the country would not have known where tolook for food and would likely have soon perished of hunger. Althoughhe had no other weapon than his sheath knife, he went about his taskwith the air of a man who was confident of success. Before leaving theisland, he cut a long, straight cypress pole and sharpened one end toa keen point. With this in his hand, he made his way down to the Gulf.The tide was high again but there was a mass of rock some two hundredfeet from shore which protruded a couple of feet above the water.Removing his shoes, he waded cautiously out, prodding the bottom beforehim with his pole and picking his way carefully to avoid stepping on astingaree.
The rock reached, he perched himself on its edge and sat peeping downinto the water which was clear as crystal. He had not long to wait. Ina few minutes a fish swam slowly past close to the rock, and, takingcareful aim, the old sailor dove his rude spear down with all hisforce. Its point struck just behind the fish's head, passing entirelythrough its body. It died without a struggle, and the captain lifted itout upon the rock with a shout of triumph. It was a beautifully-speckedsea trout about three feet in length and weighed at least twelvepounds. Although there was plenty of other fish within sight, thetrout was enough for their present needs and, scaling and washing itcarefully, the captain waded ashore with his prize. But he was not yetquite satisfied. Laying his fish down upon a bunch of clean sea moss,he examined carefully the muddy beach near the water's edge. Here andthere, tiny jets of water squirted up from the mud, and, where theyseemed to be most numerous, he began to dig. In a few minutes he hadunearthed a couple of dozen large clams. With these and the fish, and ahuge armful of moist sea moss in his arms, he made his way back to campwhere Chris was eagerly awaiting his return.
"I sho' wish I could get up from hyah," mourned the little negro."Golly! I reckon, I'd show you how to cook dat fish so dat you nebbercould eat nuff ob hit."
"You jes' lie still thar," commanded the captain. "I'm a Cape Cod man,an' thar ain't any cook living that can show a Cape Cod man how to cookthis kind of grub. You just watch and learn somethin'."
Chris watched him with professional jealousy and interest. Hefirmly believed that no one on earth could cook as good as he buthe reluctantly admitted to himself that the old sailor made hispreparations with considerable promise of success.
First, he scooped out a hole in the ground about three feet deep andtwo feet square and kindled a small fire in the bottom upon which heplaced a layer of small rocks, as soon as it was going good, then, hepaused to remark regretfully,
"I wish we had some potatoes. I never heard of a clam bake yet withoutpotatoes."
"Dar's something jes' as good as 'taters," declared Chris, pointing toa low-growing plant. "Jes' you dig up some ob dem roots an' try 'em.Hit's wild cassava, an' hit taste jes' like Irish 'taters."
The captain dug down with his sheath knife and unearthed several tubersa couple of feet in length and about three inches in circumference. Heregarded them dubiously, but, on Chris' repeated assurances that theywere good and wholesome, he cut off several pieces and washed themcarefully. By the time this was done, the fire in the pit had burnedlow, and the stones were smoking hot. Cutting several broad, green,palmetto leaves, he laid them on the stones and spread over them a thinlayer of the moist sea moss. Upon the moss he laid the fish and over itspread another layer of moss upon which he placed the clams, coveringthem with more moss, upon which he placed the cassava, and, piling athick layer of sea grass over the whole, built a small fire on top ofit. Then he sat down and watched the fire while he and Chris waitedhungrily the slow cooking of their meal. At last, the captain declaredthat it must be done. The fire on top was raked away, the contents ofthe pit were taken out and placed upon green, clean palmetto leaves,and the two castaways fell-to with appetites sharpened by their longwait. And what a feast it was,--the clams cooked to perfection in theirown juice, the fish juicy and delicious, the cassava snow-white andmealy and all rendered doubly delicious by the salt spicy taste of theseaweed in which they had been cooked. And what a joy it was to feelthat the worst of their troubles were over. Chris getting better, theboys soon to be back with help, all the worry and anxiety they hadsuffered past, the next few days to see them all safely back in Tarpon,where they would all wait in comfort and safety, ready to claim theirship when the Greeks brought her in, and, after that, they would returnfor the gold and with it they would secure the many things they hadlonged for all their lives.
Surely the prospect was bright enough to make the two lonely castawayschatter brightly, cheerfully, and hopefully over their evening meal.They could not see the dangers, worries, and misfortunes yet to befallthem, and it was well they could not for it would have robbed the twoof the happiest hour they had had in many days.
At last, the feast was over and Chris had paid the cook the highestcompliment of which he could conceive.
"Golly! Massa Capt., you cooked dem tings might nigh as good as I couldhave done."
Although there were many things which the captain wished to do,darkness was fast coming on and he had to complete his finalpreparations for the night. First, he cut a lot of small boughs whichhe piled up under the shelter close to Chris to serve as his own bed.This done, he gathered piles of wood which he spread in a circle aroundthe big cedar and set on fire to protect them both from chance visitsof snakes during the night. By the time this was finished, it was darkand he crept in under the shelter close to his dusky little companionin misfortune, and, after a short, simple prayer full of thankfulnessfor their deliverance from the dangers that had threatened them, hequickly fell into the deep sleep of total exhaustion. But sleep did notcome so readily to Chris. He had slept, or been unconscious, much ofthe time since his accident and the stimulating effect of the palmettomedicine helped to drive slumber away from him. He lay very quiet toavoid disturbing the old sailor's rest, but, try as he would, he couldnot get to sleep. At last he gave up the attempt and lay with eyeswide open looking out at the stars and the twinkling camp-fires. Fromthe marsh about came strange noises of the night, the croaking ofmultitudes of frogs, the cackle of marsh hens, the squawking of cranes,and the rustling of the marsh grass in the wind. Slowly the circle offire died down, smouldered and went out. Only the big main camp-firewas left a glowing mass of embers.
Suddenly the wakeful little negro's ears caught another sound mingledwith the voices of the night,--a slow, heavy, creeping noise. For atime he lay quiet listening, his hearing strained to the utmost tocatch the new strange sound. He waited until there was no doubt that itwas close at hand and steadily drawing nearer, then, he reached overand shook his snoring companion.
"Wake up, Massa Captain," he cried, "dar's some wild beast a creepin'into de camp."
"I hear it," agreed the captain, instantly wide awake. "Jes' lay still,lad, an' don't be frightened. I'll stir up the fire a bit, that willrun it off."
He arose from his couch and strode boldly for the smouldering fire.
"Look out!" Chris yelled, suddenly, "Foah de Lawd's sake, look out!"His keen eyes had caught a glimpse of a black shape passing between theold sailor and the mass of glowing embers, but his warning came toolate,--the captain was upon the moving shape before he saw it.
A swishing noise rent the air, a loud thud, the old sailor was knockedbackward several feet flat on the ground, and, with a loud, sharpbellowing, the mysterious visitor glided away into the darkness.
"Is you hurt? Is you hurt, Massa Cap?" cried the terror-stricken lad.
"A little bit, a little bit," called back the old sailor, his voicehoarse with pain.
He came creeping back into the shelter on hands and knees.
"It was a big bull alligator," he explained, painfully. "Must have beentwelve feet long. It caught me a fearful blow on the legs with itstail. I hope thar ain't no bones broken but it feels as though tharwas."
A close examinatio
n proved his fears groundless, but the terrible blowhad done all but break the bones. In spite of the pain, however, hecrawled forth again and replenished the fire, but he was faint andgiddy with pain before he succeeded in getting back into the shelterand stretched out on his couch once more.
"I reckon, I'll be all right by morning," he said, hopefully, "but Idon't calculate I'll be able to sleep any more to-night, my legs hurttoo bad for that. Don't make any difference though, I 'low I've hadenough sleep for one night--it can't be more than a couple of hours'till daylight."
It proved to be even less and with the coming of light he removed histrousers and examined his limbs anxiously. He had indeed received aterrible blow from the prowling monster, both legs were bruised andswollen where the tail had struck it and it seemed a miracle that thebones had not been broken. It caused him exquisite pain to rise uponhis feet, but there was work which had to be done, and, in spite of hissuffering, he must do it. So, hiding his pain as well as he could, heprepared to sally forth to secure food for the day.
But in spite of all his efforts he could not entirely hide his intensesuffering.
"You jes' lay down an' let me go out an' find grub, Massa Cap," Chrispleaded. "I feels jes' as well as can be again now."
But the sturdy old sailor would not listen to his pleadings.
