The Young Marooners on the Florida Coast

Sam was profuse in his praise of Robert's surgery, bestowing upon it every conceivable term of laudation, and seeming withal to be truly grateful. "Tankee, Mas Robert! Tankee, Mas Harold! Tankee, my dear little misses! Tankee, Mas Frank too! Tankee, ebbery body! I sure I bin die on dat sand-bank, 'sept you all bin so kind to de poor nigger."

"No more of that, Sam," said Robert, "you were hurt in trying to help us; it is but right we should help you."

At the close of this scene, the young people prepared for bed. It was past ten o'clock, and they were sadly in need of rest; but so strongly had their sympathies been excited for their black friend, that even little Frank kept wide awake, waiting his turn to be useful. When, however, their work was done, and they had lain down to rest, they needed no lullaby to hush them into slumber. Within twenty minutes after the light was extinguished, and during the livelong night, nothing was to be heard in that tent but the hard breathing of the wearied sleepers. Thanks to God for sleep! None but the weary know its blessedness.

CHAPTER XIX

THE SURPRISE AND DISAPPOINTMENT-NAMING THE FAWN-SAM'S STORY-DEPRESSION AFTER EXCITEMENT-GREAT MISFORTUNE

Had there been nothing to excite them the company might have overslept themselves on the following morning. But shortly after daylight they were awaked by an incident that hurried them all out of bed. It was nothing less than hearing Frank exclaim, in a laughing, joyous tone, "O father, howdy! howdy! I am so glad you have come!"

The dull ears of the sleepers were caught by these welcome words, and all sprang to their feet.

"Father! Father! Is he here?" they asked. "Where, Frank? where!"

"Yonder," said he, sitting bolt-upright in bed, rubbing his half-opened eyes with one hand, and with the other pointing to a corner of the tent. "Isn't that father? I saw him there just now."

It was only a dream. Frank had been thinking more than usual of home during the day and night past, and it was natural that his visions of the night should be of the same character with his dreams of the day. He fancied that his father had found the lost boat, and having tied it at the landing, was coming to the tent. Poor fellow! he was sadly disappointed to learn that it was all a dream. The picture was so vivid, and his father looked so real, that for a moment he was perfectly confused. Mary tried to comfort him by saying, "Never mind, buddy; we will see him coming some of these days. But though father is not here, you remember that Sam is, and that he is going to tell us about home, as soon as he is able to talk. Come, let us get up, and see how he is." The history of the preceding day dawned slowly upon the mind of the bewildered child, and the sense of disappointment was gradually lost in the hope of hearing Sam's story.

The wounded man had spent a night of suffering. His leg pained him so intensely, that several times he had been on the point of calling for assistance; but hearing from every one that peculiar breathing which betokens deep sleep, and remembering that they had undergone immense fatigue, he stifled his groans, and bore his sufferings in silence.

While Robert and Harold were occupied with kind offices around the couch, Mary and Frank went to see after the fawn. Its neck was somewhat sore to the touch, but otherwise it appeared to be doing well. They gave it more water, hay and sassafras leaves. Frank offered it also a piece of bread; but wild deer are not used to cookery, and the fawn rejected it; though, after becoming thoroughly tamed, it became so fond of bread of every kind, that it would follow Frank all over the woods for a piece no bigger than his finger. "What shall we call her?" asked Frank.

"We will have a consultation about that," replied Mary, as she saw the others approaching. "Cousin Harold, what name would you give?"

"Snow or Lily, I think, would suit her colour very well," he answered.

"Brother Robert, what is yours?"

"As she came from among the flowers," he said, "I think Flora would do very well."

"Yes," added Mary, "and very pretty names all Frank, what is yours?"

"Anna," said he, "I would like to talk to her sometimes, and to make believe that she was Sister Anna."

"That would sound almost too much like Nannie," Mary objected, and then asked, "Did you say, brother, that you gave her to me?" He replied, "Yes." "Then," she added, "I will call her Dora, for I heard father say that that name means a gift."

"Dora let it be," said Robert, patting its delicate head. "Miss Dora, I wish you a speedy cure, and a pleasant captivity."

About nine o'clock Sam awakened from a refreshing sleep, and the anxious company assembled at his side to hear what he had to tell about home. "I a'nt got much to tell," said Sam, "I lef so soon a'ter you all, dat you know most all sept what happen to me and Riley on de way."

"Let us hear it all," said Robert.

"But before you begin," interrupted Mary, "do tell us about William. Was he drowned or not?"

(For the sake of the reader who may not be familiar with the lingo of southern and sea-coast negroes, the narrative will be given in somewhat better English, retaining, however, the peculiarities of thought and drapery.)

"O, no, Misses," he replied to Mary's question. "He only fell backward into the water, and was a little strangled. He rose directly, and gave the alarm. I suppose the reason that you did not hear him was that he was under the wharf, holding tight to a post, for fear some of the fish might come and take hold of him too. He came with me to Riley's Island."

"Now do you begin at the beginning," said Robert, "and tell us one thing after another, just as it happened. If there is anything of which we wish to hear more particularly, we will stop you to inquire."

"Well," said Sam, "you know that when you left I was working in the back room. I was putting in the window sash, when I heard your father talking to some one at the door, and saying, 'Stay here, I will be out in a moment!' He went into his room, came out with something in his hand, and spoke a word to the man at the door, when we heard William's voice, crying out, 'Help! help!' as if he was half smothered. Your father said, 'What can be the matter?' I heard him and the stranger running towards the bluff, and I ran too. When I reached a place where I could see you (for the little cedars were between the house and the water), your father had just fallen upon his knees. He had his two hands joined together, and was praying very hard; he was pale as a sheet, and groaned as if his heart was breaking. For a while I could hardly take my eyes off from him; but I could see you in the boat, going over the water like a dove through the air, leaving a white streak of foam behind. Presently your father rose from his knees, and said, 'It is a devil fish! He cannot hold that gait long. Sam, do you and William (for William had by this time come up from the water), get the canoe ready in a minute, and let us pursue them;' then he wrung his hands again, and said, 'O, my God, have mercy, and spare my children!'

"William and I ran a few steps toward the canoe, but I came back to tell master that the canoe could not float-a piece of timber had fallen from the wharf, and punched a great hole in it. Then the soldier spoke, and said, 'The Major has a fine sail boat, Doctor. If you can do no better, I will ride very fast, and ask him to send it.' 'Do, if you please,' master said. 'Tell the Major he is my only help on earth. Lay your horse to the ground, good soldier, I will pay all damages.' The soldier turned short off, clapped his spurs to his horse, and made him lay himself almost straight to the ground.

"When your father came to the canoe, he said quickly, 'We can mend that hole, and set off long before the boat comes from Tampa. Peter, make a fire here at once-quick! quick! Judy, run to the house, and bring down a pot, and the cake of wax, and a double handful of oakum. William, do you go to the house too, and bring the side of harness leather, two hammers, and a paper of the largest tacks. And Sam,' said he to me, 'let us take hold of the boat, and turn it over ready for mending.' The hole was big as my head, and there were two long cracks besides; but we worked very fast, and the boat was ready for the water in less than an hour. Your father worked as hard as any of us, but every once in a while he turned to watch you, and looked very sorrowful. At last you went so far away that we could barely see you, like a little speck, getting smaller and smaller. When you were entirely out of our sight, your father took his other spy glass, went on top of the shed, and watched you till we were ready to go. Then he came to us, and said to me and William, 'I have concluded to send you off alone; you can row faster without me. I will wait for the Major's boat. The children are now passing Riley's Island, and turning down the coast. Make haste to Riley, and say from me, that if he brings me back my children I will give him whatever he asks. If he needs either of you, do you, Sam, go with him, and do you, William, return to me; otherwise do you both keep on so far as you can with safety, and if you succeed, I will give you also whatever you ask. If you can hear anything of them from Riley, make a smoke on the beach; if you learn anything good make two smokes, about a hundred yards apart; I will watch for them. And now, my good fellows, good-bye! and may the Lord give you a safe passage and good success!' Neither I nor William could say one word. We took hold of master's hands, knelt down, and kissed them. And, somehow, I saw his hand was very wet; we could not help it, for we love him the same as if he was our father, and the tears would come.

"We reached the island about twelve o'clock. Riley was gone. His wife said he saw the boat pass, knew who was in it, and went after it, without stopping for more than a calabash of water. When we heard that, we jumped into our own boat again, and pushed on. Riley's wife brought down a bag of parched corn, a dried venison ham, and his gun and ammunition, saying that if he went he would need these things. We begged her to make two fires on the beach; for we thought that although it was not the best news in the world to hear that you had been carried so far away, it was good news to hear that you had not been drowned, and that Riley had gone after you.

"In about an hour we met Riley coming back. He had gone to a high bluff, on an island south of his, and watched you until you had passed out of sight. He was now returning home, uncertain whether to go after you in the morning, or to give you up altogether. When we gave him your father's message, he said he would go, for that the Doctor was a good man, but that he must return home for a larger boat; that the coast below was dangerous, and that the boat in which he was was not safe. So we came to his island, where I staid with him that night, and William returned to Bellevue.

"As we left the island at daybreak we saw a vessel sailing towards Tampa, but too far for us to hail. That day we did not search the coast at all, more than to keep a sharp look out, for we knew that you had gone far beyond. But the next three days we went into every cove and inlet, though not very far into any of them. Riley said that since the change of Indian Agents, many of his people were hostile to the whites, and to all Indians who were friendly with them, and that perhaps he should not be safe.

"We saw some Indians on the first few days, but the last day we saw none at all. Riley said that this coast was barren and bad; nobody visited it. The Caloosa Indians, he said, used to live here, but they had been starved out. There was only a narrow strip of ten miles wide, between the sea and the swamps within, and a great fire had swept over it a few summers before, and burnt up almost all the trees. The Indians supposed that this part of the coast was cursed by the Great Spirit.

"All that day we found the coast so full of reefs and shoals, and covered with breakers, that we could scarcely get along; and we talked several times of turning back. These breakers that you see from the bluff, stretch from a great ways above. Riley did not like to pass them. He said he was afraid we could not stop anywhere, except on an island, which no Indian dared to visit; for that it was always enchanted with white deer,6 and the curse of the Great Spirit was so strong upon it that no Indian could go there and live.

"We kept on, however, as well as we could, and hoped to find some place where we could pass the surf upon the shoals, and reach the shore, before we came to that terrible island. But the wind was against us, and also blowing on shore; and we made so little headway, that towards evening we had to force our way through the smoothest place we could find, and even then were nearly swamped more than once. When we landed it was dark. We saw a fire afar off, and thinking it might be yours, I tried to persuade Riley to go to it; but perhaps he thought it was on that island, though he did not say so; he replied only that we were going to have a storm soon, and that we must be preparing for it. We drew the boat as high on the beach as possible, and made it fast by his painter, made of twisted deerskins.

"After we landed I cut some wood, and tried to make a fire; but before we could set it a-blazing the wind came and the tide rose. We went to the boat, and drew it up higher on shore, and then higher still; but after a while the wind blew so hard, and the waves rolled so high, that it was not safe to be near the boat at all. Yet we could not afford to lose it; so we went down for the last time to draw it up, when all at once a big wave came and pitched it upon us as I told you.

"I had a terrible night. The water from the beach dashed over me while lying under the cedar tree to which I had crawled, and the rain poured down. The wind kept such a roaring that I suppose if a cannon had been fired a mile off you could not have heard it.

"The next morning I tried to set my broken bones. Then I dragged myself to the edge of the bluff to see if Riley's body, or the boat, or anything was in sight. But nothing was to be seen except the black water rolling in from sea. As the light became stronger, I saw afar off your tent and smoke, and I was then sure that the fire we saw the night before was yours. I tried every way to make you see me. I took Riley's rifle, and snapped it, but the powder inside was wet. Then I went to a bush, and with my one hand cut a long switch, to which I tied my handkerchief, and waved and waved it; but nobody saw me. I could see you very well (for my sight is good) sitting down, or walking about, as if you were in trouble about something. Then I tried to raise a smoke. Everything was wet; but the tree near me had a hollow, and in the hollow was some dry rotten wood. I spread some powder on the driest pieces, and by snapping the rifle over it several times, set it on fire; but it was a long time before I could find anything to burn well. While I was trying at the fire, you, Mas Robbut and Mas Harrol, went off; but I kept on throwing into the fire whatever trash and small wood I could collect by crawling after them, until I was sure Miss Mary and Mas Frank would see it. At last I heard their guns, and knew by their motions that they saw me; and for a time I felt safe. But you were so long time away, and I was in such pain, that it seemed to me I must die before you could help me, though I saw you come to the tent, and heard your guns. And when, late in the evening, I saw that you had got a boat, or something of that sort, and were coming over the river to me, I was so glad that I-I-"

Sam did not finish the sentence. The tears were streaming down his black face, and the young people were weeping with him. There were but few questions to be asked. Sam's narrative had been so full and particular, that it anticipated almost every inquiry.

The severe labours of the day before, together with excitement and loss of rest, had so far relaxed the energies of the larger boys, that they did little more that day than hang about the tent, and converse with Sam and each other about home and their own adventures. Several times Harold proposed to Robert to join him in visiting the beach, to ascertain whether their signal had stood the storm, and if not, to replant it; but Robert ever had some reason ready for not going just then. At last, late in the afternoon, they took the spade and hoe, and went to the beach. The flag was prostrate, and lay half buried in the sand; and what was their dismay, on approaching the bluff, to see a vessel that had evidently passed the mouth of the river just beyond the shoals, and was now about four miles distant, sailing to the southward.

"O, cousin!" exclaimed Robert, "there is our vessel-gone! It is the cutter! Father is aboard of her! They came as near as they could, looking for our signal-and there it lies! Oh-h!" said he, wringing his hands, "why did we not come sooner?"

"I believe you are correct," replied Harold, looking sadly after the departing vessel; "we have missed our chance."

There remained one solitary hope. It was possible, barely possible, that some one on board might be looking that way with a spy-glass, and that the signal might yet be seen. The boys eagerly seized the flag-staff; they set the lower end upon the ground; they waved it to and fro in the air; they shook their handkerchiefs; they tossed up their hats and coats, and shouted with all their might (vain shout!), "Brig ahoy!" They gathered grass, leaves, twigs, everything inflammable, and raised a smoke, as large as possible, and kept it rising, higher, higher. They were too late; the vessel kept steadily on her way. She faded gradually from sight, and disappeared for ever.

The two boys sat down, and looked sorrowfully over the distant waters. They were pale with excitement, and for a long time neither said a word.

"They may return," said Harold; "let us plant our flag-staff."

They dug a deep hole, set the pole in the middle, threw in the dirt, packed it tightly with the handle of the hoe, and then returned slowly to the tent, to inform the others of their sad misfortune.

CHAPTER XX

SPECULATIONS AND RESOLVES-FISHING-INVENTORY OF GOODS AND CHATTELS-ROASTED FISH-PALMETTO CABBAGE-TOUR-SEA-SHELLS, THEIR USES-THE PELICAN-NATURE OF THE COUNTRY-STILL HUNTING-WILD TURKEYS AGAIN-WORK ON THE TENT

The little company did not retire early that night. Sorrow kept them awake. They sat for a long time speculating upon the probable destination of the vessel, and upon their own expectations in the case. To one it seemed probable that their father had obtained the use of the cutter, for the purpose of examining the coast; to another, that he had been brought by it to the place where they had last been seen, and that he was now not far away; to another, that he would go down as far as the Florida Keys, and there employ some of the wreckers to join him in the search. At any rate they were sure that a search was going on, and that it would not be long before they were discovered, and taken home.

Ere retiring to rest that night they adopted a series of resolutions, the substance of which was that they should live every day in the expectation of being taken off, and yet husband their resources, as though they were to continue there for months.

1st. They were to keep their signal always flying.

2d. To be as much as possible on the lookout.

3d. To have a pile of wood ready for a smoke near the signal.

4th. To keep on hand a store of provisions sufficient for several weeks.

5th. To examine, and know exactly what stores they possessed.

6th. To use no more of their permanent stock than was absolutely necessary, but to live upon the resources of the island.

7th. To fit up their habitation more securely, that in case of being assailed by such another storm as that of Sunday night, they should enjoy a more perfect protection.

8th. In every possible way to be ready either for departing home, or continuing there an indefinite length of time.

In consequence of these resolutions, the first business to which they attended on the following morning, was the preparation of the pile of wood for their signal by smoke; and the next, the provision of a stock of food. As a temporary fulfilment of this last named duty, Harold went with Frank to obtain a supply of fish, leaving Robert and Mary at the tent, to make out the proposed inventory of goods. Both parties fulfilled their contracts, and on coming together, Harold reported eight large trout, besides a number of crabs, and a small turtle; and Robert read a list, showing that besides the stores put up by their father for Riley, and those brought by Sam and Riley in their boat, consisting of bread and bacon, parched corn and dried venison, there were rations for a full fortnight or more.

Of the trout brought by Harold, all except one had been cleaned, and presented to Mary; the last he reserved for the purpose, he said, of giving them another specimen of wild-woods' cookery. Before sitting down to dinner, he took this one without any preparation whatever of scaling or cleansing, and wrapping it in green leaves, laid it in the ashes to roast. It was soon done. Then peeling off the skin, he helped each to the pure white meat in such a way as to leave the skeleton and its contents untouched. Mary's taste was offended by the sight of a dish so rudely prepared; but hearing the others speak in surprise of its peculiarly delicate flavour, she also was tempted to try, and then partook of it as heartily as any one else.

While Harold was absent on his fishing excursion, Robert, having completed his inventory, had obtained another stick of palmetto cabbage. By Sam's instruction, this was freed from every particle of the green and hard covering, boiled in three separate waters, in the last of which was put a little salt. When thoroughly done, it was laid in a dish, and seasoned with butter. Prepared thus it was a real delicacy, partaking of the combined flavours of the cauliflower and the artichoke.

Bent resolutely upon living as real "marooners" on the productions of the island, the boys felt that it was necessary for them first to know something more of the country around. It was therefore agreed that they should devote that day to a combined tour of hunting and exploration. To this Mary also consented, for she had now become more accustomed to her situation, and moreover had Sam with her as an adviser.

Taking an early breakfast, and calling Mum, they departed, leaving Fidelle as a protector to Mary and Frank. The course which they pursued was along the coast. For a mile they walked on the smooth hard beach, and saw it covered with innumerable shells, of all sorts and sizes. Some were most beautifully fluted; others were encircled with spurs or sharp knots; some were tinted with an exquisite rose colour; others were snowy white, and others of a dark mahogany. Conchs of a large size were abundant, and there were myriads of little rice-shells.

"I wonder if these shells can be put to no use?" asked Harold.

"Certainly," Robert responded. "If we need lime we can obtain it by burning them. These large round shells may be cut so as to make handsome cups and vases. The long ones are used by many poor people for spoons. And the conch makes a capital trumpet; our negroes on the seaboard make a hole in the small end for this purpose. We often hear the boatmen blowing their conchs at night; and when the sound comes to us across the water, as an accompaniment to their boat songs, it is particularly sweet."

On learning these uses of the conch shell, Harold selected several fine specimens, and threw them higher on the beach, remarking, that in case they remained upon the island they would need other signals than those of the gun or the smoke for calling each other's attention; and that he intended to try his skill in converting some of these shells into trumpets.

Pocketing some of the most delicate varieties for Mary and Frank, they continued down the coast, attracted by a large white object near the water-side. At first it appeared to be a great heap of foam thrown there by the sea, but soon they saw it move, and Robert pronounced it to be a pelican. "It is a pity that it is not eatable," said he, "for one bird would furnish more flesh than a larger gobbler. But it is fishy."

"O, if that be its only fault we can correct it," replied Harold. "I recollect one day when you were sea-sick, hearing the captain say that he had eaten every sea-bird that flies, except Mother Cary's chickens; and that he took off the skin as you would that of a deer or rabbit, and soaked the flesh in strong brine; or if he was on shore he buried it for a day or two in the earth, and that then the flesh was pleasant enough. He said, moreover, that the fishy taste of water-fowl comes mostly from the skin. Come, let us get that fellow. I cannot help thinking what a nice shawl, in cold or rainy weather, his skin would make for Mary, if properly cured with all its feathers on."