Motor Boat Boys' River Chase; or, Six Chums Afloat and Ashore
Page 3
CHAPTER III
BUSTER CAPTURES A FISH
"Chances are you left it behind in the shed where the boats were kept,"George remarked, looking up from his work, "but I wish you'd just stepashore, and let me go on with my little job here, Buster. Excuse me forsaying it, but whenever you swing around it makes the boat rock justawful."
"Oh! I'm a-goin' right away, George, and only too glad for a chance toset foot again on something solid, that won't sway every time I breathewrong. Wait till I get my fish lines, will you? P'raps if I can't havethe pleasure of wearing my new sweater, I might manage to pick up a fewsmall finny denizens of the mighty Mississippi. And when it comes to_fish_, I know you fellows are fond of most any kind that swims."
"Except dog-fish; I draw the line there," objected Josh. "But here'ssome meat to bait your line with, Buster; you see, Jack brought a steakalong, thinking we'd miss it all of a sudden; and we're going to frysome onions with that. Makes your mouth water, don't it?"
"Makes me eyes run a-peelin' these same onions!" groaned Jimmie;"somebody please do be koind enough to take out me hanky, and woipe metears away. 'Tis remimberin' me ould grandmither I am at this blissedminute and that's what makes me cry."
Buster kindly performed that brotherly duty, and then busied himselfwith his fish lines. Rod or pole he had none, nor did Buster ever botherwith such a thing as a reel. A large hook, with a hunk of meat fastenedto it, and dropped overboard, suited his ideas all right; after which hetrusted to luck to bring him a capture.
The fire was started by Jack, and already Josh could be seen gettingready to serve as chef. He had fetched along a cute little white capwithout a peak, which he donned whenever he had to serve as the"dish-slinger and pot wrestler," as he was fond of calling hisoccupation. It was intended to stand for his badge of authority; andwhen he had it on, the rest were supposed to be his willing slaves,ready to jump at his bidding.
There is no part of an outing that suits boys better than preparingmeals, unless it is in disposing of the same after they are cooked.With appetites whetted to a keen edge by the air, and freedom fromanxiety, they can hardly wait until called to the feast, but wanderaround, begging the cook to please hurry, if he does not want to have afuneral on his hands.
There was always more or less merry talk passing back and forth whilethese six comrades tried and true, got dinner ready; for they werea good-natured lot, and very fond of each other, despite frequentbickerings, usually between George on the one hand, and some chum on theother.
Buster had managed to set his two lines, as best the conditions allowed.Since George was so touchy about his rocking the narrow boat with hisclumsy movements, Buster had gone out to the beamy Comfort, and fastenedone of his stout lines to a cleat he found handy. The other he hadthrown out from the shore above, and tied to a stake driven into theearth, just as he had seen a snubbing-post used down in Florida, whensharks were being fished for around the inlets.
Every little while he would glance toward these lines, having arrangedso that if a fish took hold, a little piece of white rag would behoisted as a signal; very much on the order of that frequently used bypickerel fishermen, when watching a dozen or two holes cut through theice, each with its separate line.
The cooking progressed slowly. Josh said he was out of practice, butthat when he got his hand in, all would be smooth sailing again.
He had plenty of assistance, for every one but George and Buster hungaround, ready to lend a hand; and after he had fixed his snares with thebaited hooks at the end, even the fat boy was willing to do anythingJosh asked.
Finally the cook announced that everything was ready, and that theycould draw up to the board. Of course this latter was only a figure ofspeech, for there was not a sign of a board around; the things wereplaced right on the ground, while the diners were expected to get theirsupplies on a tin platter, and in a tin cup; after which they were atliberty to squat like tailors, with their legs drawn up under them; orelse retreat to the boats for more comfortable seats.
"Talk to me about your banquets," remarked Herb, as he started in on hisrasher of steak and fried onions, "this beats anything that was everinvented. I wouldn't change places with a king, right now."
"Them's my sintimints!" echoed Jimmie, as well as a fellow could who hadhis mouth crammed full at the moment, so that he had to talk from oneside.
"Hurry up, George, or you'll get left!" called Josh, noticing that theskipper of the speed boat had not come ashore.
"Oh! I suppose I'll just have to, but I'd rather be left to work here,"replied George, nervously, whereat the rest glanced at each other, andthe looks thus exchanged seemed to say as plainly as anything: "Wondernow if he's gone and done it, mixed things up with his cranky oldengine, and don't seem able to get it to working right again; that wouldbe just like Fussy George!"
It was more than pleasant to sit there, looking out upon the broad riverand enjoying the feast that had been prepared as a starter to their camplife. The very wind that came sweeping across from the further shore,cool and delicious, seemed to be of a different brand to any that theyenjoyed at home; so much do surroundings have to do with things.
No one seemed in any particular hurry but George, who bolted his dinner,and was back again on his boat long before any of the others hadfinished.
"Are we nearly half way there, do you think Jack?" asked Herb, who knewthat the skipper of the Tramp kept track of all these things and hadcharts as well of the river.
"We've come forty-five miles since starting, because, you see, thecurrent is pretty strong; and for once we haven't been held up byGeorge's cranky boat," replied Jack, lowering his voice a little whensaying this last, since there was no necessity for offending the chumwhose little oddities gave them more or less fun during a cruise.
"Then that would mean we've still got a good fifty to go," suggestedBuster.
"Somebody get a leather medal for Buster here, our Lightning Calculator.Now, it would take me ever so long to figure that forty-five fromninety-five really leaves fifty; but just see how he grabs the answerright off the reel. It won't be long before he has a little 'Professor'tacked to his name," and Josh chuckled as though he had really saidsomething smart.
Buster did not seem to feel hurt; in fact, many of these little shaftsjust glanced from him as arrows might from the thick hide of arhinoceros; which is not saying that Buster was impervious to ridicule,for that would be far from the truth, as he could be quite sensitive attimes; but Josh he treated with supreme contempt whenever the lattertried to be funny at his expense.
All this while Buster had tried to keep one eye on the places where hisfishing lines were out. He fancied several times that he saw a white ragstart to show, but before he could scramble to his feet, which was quitean effort for him, it was all over, and proved to be only a nibble, sothat on each occasion he had to sink back again, and have patience.
There were good fish in the old Mississippi, and he knew it, so whyshould he not have his share of the spoils? In his moments of leisure,while preparing his hooks and lines, no doubt Buster had picturedhimself as hauling in some monster that would be the envy of all hiscamp-mates; and beside which he must have his picture taken, as positiveproof that he was the successful angler.
Jack knew that once they started they would be apt to make theirdestination in less than five hours; so that there was no need of haste.He had seen much of George's hurrying, and what grievous results itoften brought in its train, that somehow he felt more averse to makinghaste than ever.
So he and Herb and Andy sat there, chatting, as they finished theirdinner, with Buster squatting alongside like a great toad, waiting forthat bite which did not seem to materialize very fast, and in a sort ofhazy way listening to what was said by his three chums; Josh being busywith the cooking utensils, which he liked to keep as clean as sand andwater could scour them, after the most approved camp methods known.
All at once there was a heave on the part of Buster; who seemed to beactuated by some wil
d impulse, for he made frantic efforts to get up;but as he had been sitting on one of his legs, it had gone to "sleep,"so that even after the fat boy did succeed in gaining an erect position,he came very near falling over into the fire that was still smouldering.
"Hi! what's all this mean; got a fit, Pudding?" shouted the alarmedJosh, as he supported the swaying form of the other for just fiveseconds; when Buster broke loose, and went limping toward the river,uttering all sorts of vaporings, in his excitement.
"Oh! it's only a fish, after all," grunted Josh, who had begun tobelieve that there was something tremendous the matter.
But at any rate it meant a whole lot for Buster, who, scrambling aboardthe Comfort made a bee line for the spot where he had fastened hisstout cord. Sure enough the piece of white rag was fluttering from thetop of the rudder post, having been pulled up there when the fish hadseized the bait, and started away with it.
Everybody just naturally stopped whatever they were doing at the time,to watch the fisherman. Even George poked his head up to see what allthe row was about, and for the moment forgot his troubles with thatcranky engine.
Buster was giving little cries of mingled delight and wonder.
"Wow! it's sure a big one this time, boys! Takes your Uncle Nick to coaxthe dandies to take hold. Yes, I spit on my bait every time, and that'sthe trick to fetch 'em. That'll do, Josh, I'm running this circus, andI'd thank you not to butt in. Watch me land him now, boys! Say, ain'tthis fun, though? Worth while coming fifty miles to see me do the greatact. Wow!"
"Look out, Bumpus, or he'll pull you in!" called Jack; but evidently thewarning meant in good earnest, fell on deaf ears. Bumpus was not goingto be denied the pleasure of landing his own capture.
They saw him unfasten the cord with trembling hands, hardly able tocontain himself. Then he threw himself back in a noble attitude thatmade Josh compare him with "Ajax defying the lightning," which every onehas seen in marble.
All at once Herb gave a shout that was echoed by others.
"Whip the cord around the cleat again, Buster, quick!"
Buster attempted to obey, realizing when it was too late that he had cutoff more than he could manage when he tried to land that monster fish;but unable to do so, and unwilling to let go of the line, for he had avery stubborn nature, the next thing they knew there was a great splash,and Buster was wallowing in the yellow waters of the Mississippi.