XIII
CAL’S EXPERIENCE AS THE PRODIGAL SON
BREAKFAST next morning was not a very satisfactory meal. There wasplenty of fish and game, of course, but there was little else. Thecoffee supply had been used up, but the boys regarded that as a matterof no consequence.
“Coffee is a mere luxury anyhow,” Dick said, “and we can go without itas well as not. It isn’t like being without bread or substitutes forbread. If we had some sweet potatoes now, or some rice—”
“The which we haven’t,” interrupted Cal. “No more can we get any here.As for corn meal, we have enough for one more ash cake, but it is fullof weevil and, therefore, when we consume it we shall be eating thebread of bitterness in an entirely literal sense. For quinine biscuitwould taste like cookies as compared with weevely corn bread. You werewise in your generation, Dick, when you surreptitiously placed thattin of ship biscuit on board, but your imagination lacked breadth andcomprehensiveness. It was not commensurate with our appetites, and sothe ship bread is all consumed and would have been if you’d broughta barrel of it on board instead of that little tin box full. Youneglected that, however, and we must endure the consequences as best wemay.”
“For the present, yes,” said Larry; “but not for long. We must make allthe haste we can till we get to Beaufort and stock up again.”
“I know a trick worth two of that,” Cal said apart to Dick, but he didnot explain himself. Dick had found out, however, that Cal’s knowledgeof the region round about them and of the tortuous waterways thatinterlaced the coast in every direction was singularly minute andaccurate. It was not until that morning, however, that Cal explainedto him how he had come to be so well versed in the geography andhydrography of the region. It had been decided by Captain Larry thatbefore leaving their present camp that day the company should cookenough food to last for a day or two, so that they might not haveto waste any time hunting or fishing while making as quick a tripto Beaufort as they could. As there was very little game left afterbreakfast, Cal and Dick set out with their guns to secure a supplyof squirrels and whatever else they could find, while Larry and Tomshould load the boat and catch some fish.
During this little shooting expedition some small manifestation ofCal’s minute information prompted a question from Dick.
“How on earth, Cal, can you remember every little detail like that? Andhow did you learn so much about things around here, anyhow?”
“I got that part of my education,” Cal answered, “partly by being avery good boy and partly by being a very bad one. I’m inclined tothink the bad-boy influence contributed even more than the good-boyexperience to my store of information. As for remembering things,that is a habit of mind easily cultivated, though the great majorityof people neglect it. It consists mainly in careful observation. Whenpeople tell you they don’t remember things they have seen, or rememberthem only vaguely, it usually means that they did not observe thethings seen. For example, I remembered where that spring of ours waswhen we were all parched with thirst, and I knew how to go to it inthe dark. That was simply because when I first saw that spring andquenched a very lively thirst there, I decided to remember it and itssurroundings in case I should ever have occasion to find it again.So I looked carefully at everything round about from every point ofview. I observed that the spring lay just beyond the first bend of thecreek and that there was a cluster of big cypress trees very near it.I noticed that the mouth of the creek lay between a little stretch ofbeach on one side and a dense cane thicket on the other. In short, Icarefully observed all the bearings, and having done that, of course Icould never forget how to find the spring.”
“Do you always do that sort of thing when you think you may want tofind a place again?”
“Yes, of course. Indeed, I do it anyhow, whether there is any occasionor not. For example, when I was visiting you in Boston last yearI noticed that there was a little dent in the silver cap over thespeaking tube in the dining-room, as if somebody had hit it a littleblow. The dent was triangular, I remember.”
“That’s because the thing I hit it with had a triangular face, for Imade that dent when I was a little fellow with a curious-looking toolthat a repairer of old furniture had in use there. It’s curious thatyou should have noticed the dent, as it is very small and your back wastoward it as you sat at table.”
“Yes, but not as I entered the room. It was then that I saw it.”
“Then that sort of close observation is a habit of mind with you?”
“Yes. I suppose it is partly natural and partly cultivated. I don’tknow.”
The two had come by this time to that part of the woods that Tom hadnamed the “squirrel pasture,” and they were soon busy with theirguns. But as they walked back toward the camp, loaded with black andgray squirrels, Dick came back to the subject, which seemed deeply tointerest him.
“I wonder, Cal,” he said, “if you would mind telling me about those twoepochs in your young life—the good-boy and the bad-boy periods?”
Cal laughed, half under his breath.
“It isn’t much to tell,” he replied; “but if you’re interested I’lltell you about it. You see the old families down here are a gooddeal mixed up in their relationships, just as the old families inMassachusetts are, because of frequent intermarriages. The Rutledgesand the Calhouns, and the Hugers, and the Huguenins, and Barnwells, andHaywards, and the rest, are all more or less related to each other.Indeed, there is such a tangle of relationships that I long ago gave uptrying to work out the puzzle. It is enough for you to know that theparticular Mr. Hayward who owns all this wild land around here andhalf a dozen plantations besides is my kinsman—my mother’s uncle, Ibelieve. Anyhow, from my earliest childhood there was never anythingthat I liked so well as visiting at Uncle Hayward’s. Perfect candorcompels me to say that I was not particularly fond of Uncle Hayward orof any member of the family, for that matter. Uncle Hayward used totake me for long rides on a marsh tackey by way of entertaining me inthe way he thought I liked best, and I resented that whenever I wantedto do something else instead. He is one of the best and kindliest menalive and I am very fond of him now, but when I was a little fellowI thought he interfered with my own plans too much, and so I made upmy mind that I didn’t like him. As for the ladies of the family, Idetested them because they were always combing my hair and ‘dressing meup’ when I didn’t want to be dressed up.
“Nevertheless, nothing delighted me like a prolonged visit at UncleHayward’s. That was because I particularly appreciated an intimateassociation with Sam. Sam was a black boy—or young man, rather—whoseemed to me to be the most delightfully accomplished person I hadever known. He could roll his eyes up until only the white below theiris was visible. He could stand on his head, walk on his hands, turnhandsprings, and disjoint himself in the most astonishing fashionimaginable. He could move his scalp and wiggle his ears. His gifts andaccomplishments in such ways as these seemed to me without limit.
“As Uncle Hayward could never keep Sam out of the woods, he made up hismind to assign him to duty in the woods as a sort of ranger. There wasplenty for Sam to do there, for besides all these vast tracts of wildland, Uncle Hayward had a deer park consisting of many thousand acresof woodland under a single fence. To watch for fires, to keep poachersout, to catch and tame half a dozen marsh tackeys every now and then,and a score of similar duties were assigned to Sam.
“When I was a little fellow my customary reward for being aparticularly ‘good boy’ for a season was permission to go into thewoods with Sam and live like a wild creature for weeks at a time. Inthat way, and under Sam’s tuition, I learned much about these regionsand about the waterways, for Sam seemed always to know where a boatof some kind lay hidden, and he and I became tireless navigators andexplorers.
“That, in brief, is the history of the ‘good-boy’ epoch. The story ofthe other is a trifle more dramatic, perhaps. It occurred three orfour years ago when Larry and I were planning to go to Virginia toprepare for college. I was fourte
en or fifteen years old then and I hadcontinued to spend a part of every year down here in the woods withSam for guide, servant, and hunting factotum. At the time I speak of Ihad some rather ‘lame ducks’ in my studies. The fact is, I had idled agood deal, while Larry had mastered all the tasks set him. Accordingly,when my father and mother went North that year—they go every summer onaccount of mother’s health—Larry went up country to visit some of ourrelatives there, while I decided to stay at home and work with a tutorwhom my father had hired for me.
“He and I lived alone in the house with only the servants, and Ifound him to be in many ways disagreeable. He was an Englishman,for one thing, and at that period of my life I had not yet gotover the detestation of Englishmen which the school histories andrevolutionary legends had instilled into my mind. He was brusque andeven unmannerly at times, judged by the standards of courtesy that weCarolinians accept. More important than all else, he and I entertainedirreconcilable views as to our relations with each other. He thought hewas employed to be my master, while I held that he was hired only as mytutor. This led to some friction, but we managed to get on togetherfor a time until I found that the difference of opinion between himand me extended to other things than our personal relations. He seemedto think himself not only my master but master of the house also inmy father’s absence. He did not know how to treat the servants. Hegave them orders in a harsh, peremptory way to which house servants inCarolina are not accustomed. His manner with them was rather that ofan ox-driver toward his cattle than that of a gentleman dealing withwell-mannered and well-meaning servants.
“This grated on me, and I suppose I have a pretty well-defined temperwhen occasion arouses it. The Rutledges generally have. At any rateI one day remonstrated with the tutor on the subject, intending theremonstrance to be all there was of the incident, but he answered mein that tone of a master which I more and more resented. High wordsfollowed, from which he learned my opinion of his character and mannersmuch more definitely than I had cared to express it before.
“At last he threatened me with a flogging, and picked up a cane withwhich to administer it. I was mad all over and clear through by thattime. I had never had a flogging and I certainly would not submit toone at his hands. But my anger had passed beyond expression in wordsby that time. I did not feel the flush of it—I felt deathly paleinstead. I was no longer hot; on the contrary I was never cooler inmy life. I did not threaten my antagonist or give him warning as headvanced toward me with the cane uplifted. I simply selected a certainplank in the floor which I made up my mind should be his Rubicon. Istood perfectly still, waiting for him to cross it.
“Presently he stepped across the line I had fixed upon. The instant hedid so I sprang upon him, delivering my blows so fast and furiouslythat in two or three seconds he went down in a heap. He claimed to bean expert boxer, and I suppose he was, but my attack was so sudden andso unexpected that his science seemed to have no chance. At any rate,he was so nearly ‘knocked out’ that he had no disposition to renew thecontest. He went to his room, washed himself, packed his trunk, leavingit to be called for later, and left the house.
“Before leaving he wrote me a curt note, saying that he wouldimmediately get a warrant for my arrest on a charge of assault andbattery.
“That rather staggered me. I wouldn’t have given one inch in fear ofthat man. No power on earth could have made me run away from him orapologize to him or in any other way flinch from anything he mightdo to me. But I had a terrifying misconception of the law and itsprocesses. I was only a fifteen-year-old boy, you know, and I knewnothing whatever of legal proceedings; or rather, I knew just enoughabout them to mislead my mind. I knew that a warrant meant arrest, andas I lay abed worrying that night I convinced myself that if I shouldbe arrested when my father was not in Charleston to furnish bail forme, I must lie in a loathsome jail until his return, forbidden tocommunicate with anybody and compelled to live on a diet of bread andwater.
“I saw no way out except to keep out of reach of that warrant till myfather’s return, and the only secure way of doing that, I thought,was to run away and live down here in the woods. So after lying awakeall night I got up at daybreak, got one of the servants to giveme breakfast and put up a luncheon for me. Then I took a little,flat-bottomed skiff that I owned and made my way down here. I hadsome money with me, but I did not dare go to any town, or village, orcountry store, to buy anything lest the man with the warrant shouldfind out where I was. I learned where all the little negro settlementswere, however, and there I bought sweet potatoes and the like as Ineeded them. I had my shotgun and fish lines with me, of course, andso I had no difficulty in feeding myself. For amusement I wanderedabout in every direction by land and water, and in that way greatlyimproved my education in coast country geography.
“After a while I found myself running short of ammunition, and I didn’tknow how to procure a fresh supply. I was afraid to go to Beaufort, orup to Grahamville, or Coosawhatchie, or anywhere else where there werestores, and besides that I was in no fit condition to go anywhere. Ihad forgotten to bring any clothes with me and what I had on were wornliterally to rags.
“Fortunately I had got acquainted with a negro boy who often brought mevegetables and fruit and sold them to me for low prices. I suppose nowthat he stole them, although that didn’t occur to me then.
“One day I hit upon the plan of sending him to Beaufort for ammunition.He expressed doubt that anybody there would sell it to him, and Ishared the doubt. But it was my only chance, so I gave him some moneyand sent him. He was gone for two days, during which I fired my lastcartridge at a deer and missed him. I had begun to think the negroboy had simply pocketed the money and disappeared, never to returnagain, but I consoled myself with the thought that there were plenty offish and oysters to be had, and that I could buy sweet potatoes andvegetables.
“That night the negro boy returned, bringing me rather more ammunitionthan I had sent for, and when I questioned him about the matter hisreply was that that was what the storekeeper had given him for themoney. Later, however, he confessed to me that finding nobody willingto sell cartridges to him, he had simply stolen them and, beingprepared to bring me the goods I had sent for, he thought the moneyhe had saved in that way justly belonged to him. He had squandered itfor candy and in satisfaction of such other desires as possessed him.Of course I paid the merchant afterwards, and equally of course it wasimpossible to collect the amount from the boy.
“All that is an episode. One day by some chance I encountered Sam in mywanderings, and he told me people were looking for me—that my fatherhad heard of my disappearance and had hurried back to Charleston.
“I went to Beaufort, bought some sort of clothes, and like the otherprodigal son, returned to my father. But he utterly failed to play hispart according to the story. Instead of falling on my neck, he laughedat the clothes I wore. Instead of killing the fatted calf, he told meto take a bath and put on something fit to wear. All that evening Iheard him chuckling under his breath as I related my experiences inanswer to his questions. Finally he said to me:
“‘You’ll do, Cal. I’ll never feel uneasy about you again. You know howto take care of yourself.’
“There, Dick, you’ve heard the whole story, both of my righteousnessand of my wickedness.”
“And a mighty interesting story it has been to me,” Dick replied.“Thank you for telling it.”
What Happened at Quasi: The Story of a Carolina Cruise Page 15
