Goulding Francis Robert
The Young Marooners on the Florida Coast
CHAPTER XXVIII
PLANS-VISIT TO THE PRAIRIE-DISCOVERIES-SHOE MAKING-WATERFOWL
The severe exercise of the two preceding days was more than Harold's ankle, in its state of partial recovery, could endure without injury. For several days afterwards he was compelled to rest it from all unnecessary labour, and to relieve its pain by frequent and copious applications of cold water.
Sam's wounded limbs were rapidly regaining strength, and he insisted that they were well enough to be used; but Robert refused to indulge him.
"We must risk nothing in the case," said he. "It is so important to have you able to help us build our boat, that I think you had better continue in bed one week too long than leave it one day too soon. You must be content to rest your arm for full five weeks, and your leg for six or seven."
Mary and Frank had listened with deep interest to the account which the boys gave of the old Indian settlement, with its open prairie, vine covered forest, orange grove, and sparkling spring; and begged so earnestly for the privilege of accompanying them on their next visit, that they gave their consent. The only difficulty foreseen in the case, was that of leaving Sam alone; but when this was made known to him, he removed all objection by saying:
"Wuddah gwine hu't me?11 Jes load one gun, and put um by my side. I take care o' myself."
The object of their visit was not one of mere enjoyment. They had waited for deliverance until they were convinced that it was vain to rely upon anything except their own exertions. It was now between five and six weeks since they had landed upon the island. There had been some strange fatality attending all the efforts that they were sure had been made on their behalf, and now they must try to help themselves.
The exploration had resulted in the discovery of beautiful timber, of every size, fit for boats, and near the water's edge. They well knew it would be a herculean task for persons of their age and education, and possessed of so few tools, to dig out, from these trees, a boat large enough to carry them all home; but they were compelled to do this, or to remain where they were. Having consulted with Sam, upon whose judgment in matters of work they relied far more than on their own, they resolved to build not one large boat but two of moderate dimensions, which might if necessary be lashed firmly together; and for this purpose to select near the water two cypresses of three feet diameter, which should be felled as soon as possible. Their visit to the prairie was for the purpose of selecting these trees, in the low ground near the river.
The four set out in fine spirits early on the morning of Tuesday, November 30th, and continued their walk direct and without incident to the Indian hut. Notwithstanding the gloomy association of the solitary grave inside the deserted house, Mary and Frank were captivated with the wild beauty of the scene. The soft green grass of the prairie-the magnificent wall of forest trees enclosing the peaceful plain-the peach trees over the hut-the oranges and the limes glancing through their dark green leaves-and the bright bubbling spring that flowed so singularly from its living curb-all combined to enchant them. It was so delightful a contrast to the bare and sterile sand of their present encampment, that they plead at once for a removal there. This, of course, had occurred to the minds of the others also; but there were two serious objections to it. One was that here they would be out of sight of vessels passing at sea; and the other (which they kept to themselves) was that here they should be more in danger from wild beasts. They replied that they also preferred the prairie, but that they could not remove until Sam was better able to travel.
Having enjoyed to their satisfaction the view of the hut and its premises, Harold took Frank, and, followed by Fidelle, went in one direction, while Robert and Mary, with Mum, went in another, to search for trees suitable in size and location for their boats. In the course of an hour they returned, having marked a large number, and at the same time having added to their knowledge of the resources of the island. Harold discovered a fine patch of Coontah or arrowroot, from which a beautiful flour can be manufactured; and hard by a multitude of plants, with soft velvet-like leaves, of three feet diameter, having a large bulbous root resembling a turnip, and which Robert pronounced to be the tanyah, a vegetable whose taste is somewhat like that of a mealy potato. The other company went to the river, where Robert discovered an old boat landing, on one side of which was a large oyster bank, and on the other a deep eddy of the stream, in which trout and other fish were leaping about a fallen tree. Mary's discovery was more pleasant than useful. It was a bed of the fragrant calamus or sweet flag, from which she gathered a handful of roots, and washing them clean, brought them as a present to the others. Frank was quite chagrined to see that he had discovered nothing new or valuable, and he did not recover his equanimity for some minutes. While the seniors lingered cheerfully around the remains of their dinner, discussing the merits of their delightful island and the prospect of their return home, Mary suddenly inquired:
"But where is Frank? I have not seen him for half an hour."
Nor had any one else; for, unsatisfied with only one orange allowed him for dessert, while there were so many on the trees, and secretly hoping to find something valuable to announce, he had quietly slipped away, and had stealthily climbed one of the orange trees, from which he plucked an orange for each of his four pockets, then with Fidelle at his side he had strolled a little farther into the forest, eating as he went.
The boys, startled by Mary's question, sprang instantly to their feet, realizing vividly the danger to which he was exposed from wild beasts, but of which they had said nothing to him or to her. Scarcely, however, had their halloo sounded among the trees, than they saw him and his faithful companion approaching leisurely through the small thicket of wild plums.
"You thoughtless little boy," said Robert, upbraidingly; "why did you go off by yourself in these dangerous woods? Did you not know they are full of bears and panthers?"
"No, I didn't," Frank replied.
"Well, I now tell you that they are," continued Robert, "and that you must never again go there unless one of us is with you. But what took you there this time?"
"Humph," grunted Frank; "don't you suppose I want to find something new and good as well as the rest of you? and I have found it, too."
"Indeed," said Harold; "what is it, Frank?"
"You must all guess," he answered, looking very proud, "all of you guess. What is the best thing in the world?"
"I will say," answered Mary, "that one of the best things in the world is a little boy who always tries to do right."
"But it is no boy," Frank continued; "it is something sweet. Guess the sweetest thing in the world."
"I think," said Robert, inclined to amuse himself, "that the sweetest looking things in the world are those pretty little girls we used to meet on King Street, in Charleston."
"No, no," said Frank; "it is neither boys nor girls, but something to eat. What is the sweetest thing in the world to eat?"
"If we were in town," Harold replied, "I should guess candy and sugar-plums; but, as we are in the wild woods, I guess honey."
"Yes, that's it," said Frank, triumphantly; "I have found a bee-tree."
"And why do you think it is a bee-tree?" asked Mary, incredulously.
"Because I saw the bees," he replied, in confident tones.
"Why, Frank," said Robert, laughing, "the bees you saw may have their hives miles and miles away."
"No, they have not," Frank stoutly maintained. "I have seen them going and coming out of their own hole just as they do at home."
"That sounds very much as if Frank is right, after all," argued Harold; "let us go and see for ourselves. But how came you to find the tree, Frank?"
"While I was eating my orange," he replied, "a bee lit on my hand, and began to suck the juice there. I was not afraid of him, for I knew that he would not sting me if I did not hurt him; and more than that, I always love to look at bees. Well, he sucked till he had got juice enough, then he flew right up into a tree a little way off, and went into a hole. While I was looking at that hole, I saw many other bees going in or coming out; and then I knew that it was a bee-tree, because I had heard Riley talk about them at Bellevue. And, Cousin Harold, did you not put up some brimstone for taking bee-trees?"
"That I did, my dear little cousin," answered Harold, pleased with this unexpected allusion. "I have no doubt, from what you say, that you have found a real bee-tree; and, in that case, you have beat us all. Take us to see it."
They all went in joyous mood, and sure enough there was a good sized tree, with a knot-hole about twenty feet above ground, with plenty of bees passing in and out of it. The smell, too, of honey was decidedly strong, showing that the hive was old and plentifully stored.
It may be as well to state here, as elsewhere, that before many days the tree was felled, and that it supplied them with such an abundance of honey that a portion of it was, at Harold's suggestion, stowed away in skin bags, hair side outward. Some of it was beautifully white and clear. This was kept in the comb. The remainder was strained, and the wax was moulded into large cakes for future use. The bees, poor creatures! were all suffocated with the fumes of burning sulphur thrown into the hollow of the tree before it was opened. A few recovered, and for days hovered around their ruined home, until finally they all perished. It made Frank's kind heart very sad to see them, and several times he was stung while watching their movements and trying to help them.
After spending a delightful day, they returned about sunset to the tent. Sam's white teeth glistened when they approached the door. It had been a lonely day with him, but their return compensated for his solitude.
From this time forth the boys had before their minds a fixed object to be accomplished-the felling of those trees, and converting them into boats. But what should be the plan of their procedure while engaged in the work? They could go every morning, and return every evening-a distance altogether of eight miles; or they could spend several nights in succession at the prairie, leaving Frank and Mary with Sam; or they could remove everything to the place of their labour. As to the first two of these plans, it was so manifestly improper to leave the two younger ones for hours and days together, in a wild country, infested with wild beasts, and unprotected, except by a lame, bedridden negro, who was unable to protect himself, that they did not entertain them for a moment. It was finally resolved to delay their regular operations until the next week, by which time they hoped to be able, partly by water and partly by land, to transport everything, and take up their permanent abode at the prairie.
With this conclusion, they set about those little preparations which they could foresee as being necessary to an undivided use of their time after entering upon their work. Their clothes, and particularly their shoes, began to give signs of decay. Frank's shoes had for some time been gaping incontinently at the toes, looking for all the world, Sam said, as if they were laughing.
Harold, foreseeing the necessity before it occurred, had put some deer-skins in soak, wrapped up in lime made from burnt oyster shells; and after removing the hair loosened by this means, had stretched them in the sun, and softened them by frequent applications of suet. The skins were ready now for use; and as soon as it was determined to delay their visit to the prairie, he brought one of them to the tent, and calling to Frank, said,
"Lend me your foot a minute, Master Frank, and I will give you a pair of moccasins."
"Not the snakes, I hope," replied Frank.
"No, but something of the same name," said Harold; "I am going to turn shoemaker, and make you a pair of Indian shoes. I need a pair myself."
"And so do I-and I!" echoed Robert and Mary.
"Indeed, at this rate," said Harold, "we may as well all turn shoemakers, and fit ourselves out in Indian style."
Harold planted Frank's foot upon the leather, which he drew up close around it, and marked at the heel, toe, and instep. He then cut it according to the measure, and there being but one short seam at the heel, and another from the toe to the instep, the sewing was soon finished. Frank tried it on, and for a first attempt the fit was very good. The fellow to this was barely completed, before two reports of Robert's gun, following in quick succession, came lumbering down the river. Fidelle pricked up her ears, and Harold, recalling vividly the panther scene, gave her the word to "hie on," and seizing his own gun followed rapidly along the shore. He had not proceeded far before a turn in the bluff revealed the figure of Robert, moving about the beach, and throwing at something in the water. He saw, too, that when Fidelle came up, Robert patted her, and pointing to the river, she plunged in and brought out a dark looking object, which she laid on a pile already at his feet. Arriving at the spot, he saw six water-fowl, between the size of a duck and a goose, of a kind entirely new to him, and which Robert assured him were brant.
"O Harold!" Robert exclaimed, "the shore was lined with them. I crept behind the bluff and killed four at my first shot, and three at my second, though one of them fell in the marsh and is lost. A little further up was a large flock of mallards, feeding upon the acorns of the live oak. I could have killed even more of them than of these, but I preferred the brant."
"You startled me," said Harold; "I did not know you had left the tent until I heard your gun, and then fearing you had got into another panther scrape, I dispatched Fidelle to your aid."
"She was exactly what I wanted, though I am thankful to say for a pleasanter purpose. See how fat these birds are!"
They gathered up the game, and returned to the tent. All were rejoiced at the new variety of provisions, for they had begun to weary of the old. The brant proved quite as pleasant as Robert anticipated, and alternated occasionally with wild ducks, constituted for a long time an important addition to their stores.
For two days they were occupied with their new art of shoe making, and so expert did they become, that Harold said he doubted whether old Torgah himself could make much better moccasins than those manufactured by themselves. There was one improvement, however, which they made upon the usual Indian mode-a stout sole, made of several thicknesses of the firmest part of the leather as a defence against thorns and cock-spurs, so abundant in the sandy soil of the coast.
CHAPTER XXIX
REMOVAL TO THE PRAIRIE-NIGHT ROBBERY-FOLD-DANGEROUS TRAP-MYSTERIOUS SIGNALS-BITTER DISAPPOINTMENT
On Monday morning, the wind blew so favourably up the river, that even before 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 been constructed for the purpose of rescuing Sam, had been originally so small, and the logs were now so thoroughly soaked with water, that to make it carry what they wished at their first load they were compelled to add to its dimensions. But this did not detain them long, and after all was completed, and the baggage stowed away, Sam, by the help of Harold's crutches, hobbled to the beach, and seated himself at the helm, while Harold took the oars, and Robert, Mary and Frank went by their well marked path through the woods, to meet them at the orange landing.
The passage by water occupied nearly three hours, and when the clumsy float slowly approached the shore, Harold could see through the narrow strip of woodland, that Robert had felled two palmettoes on the edge of the other river, and was now engaged in cutting them up.
"Can it be, Robert," he asked, on landing, "that some bird of the air has carried to you the message I wanted to send? Are you not preparing another raft?"
"I am," he replied. "It occurred to me that if we could complete this raft by the turn of the tide, we might take the load to the prairie landing, and yours might be floated hack to the old encampment for another cargo."
The idea was so valuable, that the boys scarcely allowed themselves time to eat or to rest until it was accomplished; and when at last the tide was seen moving towards the sea, they separated, Robert, Mary, and Sam going to the prairie landing, where they soon had the tent spread, and a fire burning; and Harold and Frank floating back to the place of their former 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 transporting their baggage, and fitting up their present abode with comforts and conveniences. The tent was not established at the landing where it was pitched the first night, but on the edge of the prairie, a furlong distant, and within a stone's throw of the spring.
On the third night after their removal, they experienced a loss which caused them to feel both sad and anxious. Nanny and her kids, having no place provided for them, had selected a nice retreat under the shelter of a mossy oak, and made that their lounging place by day, and their sleeping place by night. At the time referred to the boys had just retired to bed, when they heard one of the kids bleating piteously, and its cry followed by the tramp of the others running to the tent for protection. Harold and Robert sprang to their guns, and calling the dogs, seized each a burning brand, and hurried in the direction of the kid, whose wail of pain and fear became every moment more faint, until it was lost in the distance. The depredator was without doubt a panther. Such a circumstance was calculated to dishearten the boys exceedingly; for it forewarned them that not only were they likely to lose all their pets, but that there was no safety to themselves, and particularly none to Frank, if he should incautiously straggle into a panther's way. They called Nanny to a spot near the tent, fastened her by the dog's chain to a bush, threw a supply of wood on the fire sufficient to burn for some hours, and retired to bed sad and uneasy. Returning from their unsuccessful sally, Harold significantly shook his head, and said, "I will be ready for him before he has time to be hungry again."
There was no other disturbance that night. Frank was asleep at the time of the accident, and knew nothing of it until the next morning, when seeing Nanny fastened near the tent, he asked why that was, and where was 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't you sorry for your daughter? Only think, Nanny, that she is eaten up by a panther!" Nanny looked sorrowful enough, and replied, "Baa!" But whether that meant, "I am so sorry my daughter is dead," or, "I wish you would loose my chain, and let me eat some of this nice grass," Frank could 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 poor brutes. But as I have a particular reason for wishing some fresh venison before night, I want to arrange matters so that either you or I shall go out early enough to be sure of obtaining it."
Robert urged him to go at once, but disliking the appearance of avoiding labour, he preferred to remain, and aid them through the most laborious part of the proposed work. The palisade was made of strong stakes, eight or ten feet long, sharpened at one end, and driven into a narrow trench, which marked the dimensions of the enclosure. Harold assisted to cut and transport to the spot the requisite number of stakes; and shortly after noon took Frank as his companion, and left Robert and Sam to complete the work. He had not been gone more than an hour and a half, before Robert heard the distant report of a heavily loaded gun, in the 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 shooting ducks."
The workmen were too intently engaged to reflect that the report which they heard could not have proceeded from a rifle. In the course of half an hour another report, but of a sharper sound, was heard much nearer, and appearing to proceed from the neighbourhood of the orange-trees, on the tongue of land. Robert now looked inquiringly at Sam, and was about to remark, "That gun cannot be Harold's-it has not the crack of a rifle;" but the doubt was only momentary, and soon passed away. Long afterwards the familiar sound of Harold's piece was heard in the west, and a little before sunset Harold and Frank appeared, bearing a fat young 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 two young 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 of compliment to his general character, returned,
"O, that must be expected sometimes. But come, Robert, if you are not too weary, I shall be glad of your assistance in a little work before dark. I wish to post up a notice here, that night robbers had better keep away."
By their united efforts they succeeded in constructing a very simple though dangerous trap, which Harold said he hoped would give them a dead panther before morning. He laid Riley's rifle upon two forked stakes, about a foot from the ground, and fastened it so that any movement forwards would bring the trigger against an immovable pin, and spring it. He then tied a tempting piece of venison to a small pole, which was bound to the rifle in a range with the course of the ball. And to make assurance 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 to receive the load from the gun.
"Now," said he, after having tried the working of his gun, by charging it simply with powder and pulling at the pole, as he supposed a wild beast would pull at the bait, then loading it with ball and setting it ready for deadly use-"Now, if there is in these woods a panther that is weary 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 were engaged in making and setting their trap their minds were absorbed in its details, and they conversed about nothing else. But when that was finished, Harold referred to Robert's remark about his hunting, and said, "I was unfortunate, it is true, but it was only in going to the wrong 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 you returned."
The boys exchanged with each other looks of trouble and anxiety. "Did you hear any gun in reply to mine?" Harold asked. Robert replied he had not.
"Then," said Harold, in a voice tremulous with emotion, "I am afraid that our worst trouble is to come; for either there are Indians on the island, or our friends have come for us, and we have left no notice on our flag-staff to tell them where we are."
Robert wrung his hands in agony. "O, what an oversight again! when we had resolved so faithfully to give every signal we could devise. I'll get my gun! It may not be too late for an answer."
He ran with great agitation into the tent, and brought out his gun, but hesitated. "What if those we heard were fired by enemies, instead of friends?"
"In that case," replied Harold, "we must run our risk. If those were Indian guns, it will be vain to attempt concealment. They have already seen 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 hearing the echoes reverberate far away in the surrounding forest; but no sound except echoes returned. The person who fired those mysterious guns had either left the island, or was indisposed to reply.
Many were the speculations they now interchanged upon the subject, and gravely did the two elder boys hint to each other, in language intelligible only to themselves, that there was now more to fear than to hope. They ate their supper in silence, and Mary and Frank went sorrowfully to bed. Robert, Harold and Sam sat up late, after the lights were extinguished, watching for the dreaded approach of Indians, and devising various plans in case of attack. At last they also retired, taking turns to keep guard during the whole night. All was quiet until near morning; when, in the midst of Sam's watch, they were aroused by hearing near at hand the sharp report of a rifle. In an instant the excited boys were on their feet, and standing beside their sentry, guns in hand, prepared to repel what they supposed to be an Indian attack. But Sam sung out in gleeful tone:
"No Injin! no Injin! but de trap. Only yerry12 how he growl! I tell you he got de lead!"
The boys hastily kindled a torch, loosed the dogs, ran to the trap, and found, not a panther indeed, but a large wild cat, rolling and growling in mortal agony. The dogs sprang fiercely upon it, and in less than two minutes it lay silent and motionless, its keen eye quenched, and its once spasmed limbs now softly flexible in death. They took it up. It was nearly as large as Mum, being quite as tall, though not so heavy. Before they had ceased their examinations the grey streak of dawn gleamed above the eastern woods, and instead of retiring to rest again, as their weariness strongly prompted, they prepared for the duties of the opening day.
These duties appeared to be so contradictory, that they scarcely knew what plan to pursue. It was clear that some one or more should go without delay to the coast, to ascertain whether their friends were or had been there. But who should go, and who should stay? If there were Indians abroad, it would be dangerous to divide their little force; and yet all could not go, for Sam was lame. Harold offered to go alone; but the others, burning with the hope that their father might yet be on the island, or within sight, insisted on bearing him company. Sam also helped to settle the question, by saying:
"Go, Mas Robbut, and little Missus, and Mas Frank; go all o' you. Don't be 'fraid for me; s'pose Injin come, he nebber trouble nigger."
This remark was based upon the well known fact that Indians seldom interfere with negroes. And encouraged thus to leave him a second time alone, the young people resolved to go in a body to the coast; agreeing with him, however, that if he saw any danger he should give them timely warning by setting on fire a fallen pine-top.
Carrying what arms they could, and sending their dogs on either side as scouts, they walked swiftly along their well known path to the seacoast. No accident happened, no sign of danger appeared; everything was as usual on the way, and at the place of their old encampment. But scarcely 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 which Harold's Indian tuition enabled him so readily to discover; he could scarcely distinguish, after the closest scrutiny, more than the deep indentation of a boot-heel. But that was enough; a boot-heel proved the presence of a boot, and a boot proved the presence of a white man. That one fact relieved them from all apprehension that the visitors were Indians.
They fired their guns, to attract if possible the attention of the strangers; giving volley after volley, in repeated succession, and scanning the coast in every direction; but it was without the desired result-the persons were gone. Their dogs had by this time gone to a spot near the bluff, where there had been a fire, and were engaged in eating what the boys discovered, on inspection, to be a ham-bone and scattered crumbs of bread. On descending the bluff, where footprints were 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 of thick boots for bad weather, William drove a great many tacks into the sole; and when I asked him why he did so, he said it was to make them last longer, and also to know them again if they should be stolen, for there 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 to the other track, "here is the H., too."
There was now not the shadow of a doubt that the track thus ingeniously identified was William's. Then whose was that other, formed by a light, well shaped boot? Every heart responded. The elder boys looked on with agitated faces; Mary burst into tears, and Frank, casting himself passionately down, laid his wet cheek upon that loved foot-print, and kissed it.