"Strangers,"We-alls don't allow no niggers around hyar. Get rid of that little nigger you've got with you or it will be worse for him and worse for you."The White Caps."
"We-alls don't allow no niggers around hyar. Get rid of that little nigger you've got with you or it will be worse for him and worse for you.
"The White Caps."
The old sailor fairly exploded with wrath as he listened. "By the keel of the Flying Dutchman," he shouted, "that little darkey is better than a shipload of thieving fishermen. I just wish I had my hands on the fellow that dared write that thing."
"Poor little Chris," Walter exclaimed. "He is as noble a little fellow as ever lived. His skin may be black but he's white, clean white, inside. Think of the times he's risked his life for us and how good, honest and uncomplaining he has always been. Get rid of Chris, never!"
"Of course not," Charley agreed. "The question is what are we going to do. I wouldn't sayanything about it while Chris was awake because I knew how terribly bad it would make him feel,—he is a sensitive little fellow, but what are we going to do? The fellow or fellows, who wrote this are liable to do something to him at the first good opportunity they have, especially if he is not warned and on his guard."
"Give up all idea of fishing and leave this place, before we part with Chris," declared Captain Westfield.
"Not much," cried Walter. "Just tell those fishermen, one and all, that Chris stays with us. And if they do him the slightest injury, we will make them suffer for it."
"I don't like either course you propose," observed thoughtful, clear-headed Charley. "As for the Captain's plan, I don't want to leave here. We have a good prospect of making money here if we can stick it out and we are in poor shape to pick up and leave. Besides I don't like the idea of being forced out of a place by any one. I don't think much better of what Walt proposes either. We are no match for a hundred fishermen, and it is foolish to make threats when one can not carry them out. In the second place, if we quarrel with the fishermen over Chris, it will make them more bitter against him and more certain to do him an injury. Lastly, nothing we could do to them for an injury done Chris would help him any after the injurywas done. What we need to do is to protect him from any possible harm."
"Well, let's have your plan," Walter said.
"I have none as yet," Charley confessed. "I propose we wait until morning before we decide on any course. Some plan will occur to us, I am sure. There is always a way out of any difficulty if one only thinks hard enough. I am dead tired and I'm going to bed and try to forget about this trouble until morning. I'd advise you two to do the same."
It had been a very full and eventful day and Walter and the Captain were not loath to follow Charley's example. The three crept into their blankets and turned out the lantern; but, tired as they were, they were not to get the sleep they longed for. From the other shacks came the voices of their occupants gradually increasing in number and volume. At first, it seemed as though a kind of celebration was in progress; for the sound of laughter, songs, and dancing filled the air, but gradually, the uproar took on a rougher note. Voices were raised in anger, curses were bandied back and forth, and now and then came the sound of fighting.
"I believe they are all drunk or fast getting drunk," Charley declared.
"Why, I understood Mr. Daniels to say that thiswas a dry town and that no liquor was allowed in the place," said his chum.
"Yes, and he also said that there was more liquor drunk here than in any other town in the state," Charley amended. "He says it's a mystery where it comes from. The town authorities it seems, keep a close watch for blind tigers and also keep an eye on the packages that come by freight and express but none of it seems to come in that way."
"Well, it evidently comes in some way," remarked Captain Westfield as a fresh uproar of fighting arose from the dock.
It was useless to try to sleep as long as the din continued, so the three lay talking in low tones.
"Hark!" cried Charley, suddenly. "I wonder what they have done now."
Loud and clear above the din of fighting rang the sharp crack of a pistol. The report was followed by excited shouting and then silence.
"I'll bet one of them has been shot and it has frightened and sobered up the rest," Walter exclaimed. "Let's go out and see."
"No, you don't, lad," Captain Westfield declared, firmly. "You'll stay here if I have to hold you. It's none of our trouble and we don't any of us want to get mixed up in it."
Whatever had happened, it had effectually quieted the wild revelry. Our little party lay for awhilelistening but the silence remained unbroken and one by one, they at last dropped off to sleep.
It was perhaps midnight when Walter raised up on his elbow and whispered softly.
"Are you asleep, Charley?"
"As wide awake as I ever was in my life," his chum grunted. "Why, anything the matter with you?"
"Something is stinging me to death," declared Walter, anxiously, "I smart, burn, and itch all over."
"Me too," chimed in the captain's voice, "I've laid quiet here and took it rather than wake you boys up. Jehosaphat, what is it?"
Charley chuckled. "It's nothing dangerous," he explained, "evidently we are entertaining a few thousand of those fishermen's closest friends—bedbugs. Light up the lantern, Walt, and let's have a look."
An examination by the light showed their faces and bodies covered with red, angry-looking blotches.
"There's no use trying to sleep here," Charley declared. "Let's go out on board the 'Dixie.' It will be pretty close quarters sleeping in her cabin but anything is better than this."
"But our things will be all stolen," Walter objected.
"They will not bother anything to-night for they will think we are inside, and we will be backbefore they are up in the morning," said his chum.
Chris was awakened and the four crept softly out of the shack closing the door carefully behind them.
To reach their skiff, they had to pass the other shacks. As they came opposite the first one Charley, who was in the lead, stopped short with a muffled cry of horror.
Themoon had arisen while they slept and now shining brightly down clearly revealed the fearsome object stretched on the planks at Charley's feet. It was a man lying flat on his back, his arms outstretched, and his face upturned to the stars.
"Dead, murdered!" Charley cried, softly.
"Perhaps he is only drunk," suggested his chum in a tense whisper.
But Charley silently pointed to a gaping hole in the man's forehead and the dark pool on the wharf at his head.
The captain, stooping, felt of the man's wrist, raised his arm and let it drop. "Yes, he is cold, dead, and stiff," he whispered. "Let us get away from here. We can do him no good."
In a few minutes, the four were huddled in the "Dixie's" cabin, talking over the tragedy with bated breath. They were not strangers to the sight of death. In the course of the adventurous lives they had lived, they had often seen the coming of thegristly monster, but the suddenness of this sight had upset their nerves already overtaxed by the events of the previous day and the night, and it was long before they could compose themselves to sleep.
Just as Walter was dropping off into dreamland, Charley nudged him with his elbow. "I've got it," he whispered, softly.
"What?" inquired Walter, drowsily.
"A plan to avoid trouble with the fishermen and keep Chris from all harm."
"Let's hear it," demanded his chum, rousing up a little.
"Wait until morning. I haven't thought out all the details yet. Get to sleep if you can. We'll need all the rest we can get for to-morrow is going to be a busy day."
It seemed to the weary little party that they had hardly closed their eyes when they were awakened by the sun shining in the cabin windows.
Hastily dressing, they got aboard the skiff and made for the dock.
There was a crowd gathered in front of the shacks and they clambered up on the wharf unobserved.
Beside the fishermen, Mr. Daniels was standing in the group and with him was a stocky, determined-looking man, wearing a revolver, whom the boys took to be a sheriff.
"Good morning, friends," called Mr. Daniels when he caught sight of the little party. "Come here. Perhaps you can tell us something about last night's affair. These fellows here seem to know nothing about it."
Briefly, Captain Westfield told the little they knew of the trouble.
"That don't help us much," observed the sheriff, when he had concluded. "As long as these fishermen will not talk it is going to be hard to locate the murderer. The man who was killed was a pretty bad egg, although that does not excuse the murderer. I wish I could find out where that whiskey comes from. It is that which causes all the trouble."
It was on Walter's tongue to tell Mr. Daniels of their own troubles but he remembered the fish boss's declaration that they must fight their own battles and he checked himself.
The sheriff soon left, taking with him as suspects a couple of fishermen who were known to have quarreled with the dead man the day before. Before he left, however, he addressed the assembled fishermen.
"Now," he said, firmly, "these affairs among you have got to stop and stop right now. Most of you men are not bad at heart. It's the liquor makes you crazy and ready to follow the lead of the reckless ones. I don't know where you get thebooze but I am going to find out and the guilty ones are going to suffer. I'll give you a chance to come square with it. I'll give a reward of five hundred dollars to the man who puts me next to this booze business, and promise him that he will not be punished unless he is one of the main offenders. You know where I live. I am ready to talk any time to the man who will come to me and help me put an end to the accursed business."
None of the fishermen spoke but it was evident that the mention of the large reward was not without some effect. Some faces showed eager cupidity while others betrayed great uneasiness.
"That reward offer is a bomb in their midst," whispered the observant Charley to his chum. "Some of those fellows will squeal to the sheriff unless they are too afraid of what the rest would do to them. I guess those that look so uneasy are the guilty ones, they have cause to be scared. Five hundred dollars is a big temptation for some one to turn state's evidence. But come, we have no time to stand around. We have got lots to do to-day. Chris, will you see if you can rustle us up a little breakfast?"
"Now for our own troubles," he continued as soon as the little negro was out of hearing. "We all know now that we can not stay here. If those fellows will kill one of their own comrades, they certainly would not hesitate to do the same toChris or one of us if they got a good chance. So we must get away from here at once. As soon as we eat breakfast, let's get all our things on the 'Dixie' and pull out. I've a sort of plan in my head for a new home but first I want to go over to the Roberts camp and have a little talk with them. There are several things I want to find out. Before we go, though, I want to say a few words to these fishermen."
The fishermen were still standing as the sheriff had left them, talking excitedly together and Charley approached the group. "Men," he said in a clear, manly voice, "please give me your attention for a moment." A surprised silence fell upon the group, and the lad was quick to take advantage of it.
"We only landed in this place yesterday. We came here broke, seeking a chance only to work and earn. Mr. Daniels was kind enough to give us that chance. We have started in strangers to all of you and with no malice or ill feeling towards any of you. Last night we received a note signed the White Caps stating that we must get rid of our little colored cook or suffer serious consequences. Now suppose, men, that you had a friend who for years had been faithful, loyal and true to you. Suppose that he had again and again risked his life for you. Would you turn him down at some one else's demand, even if his skinwas black? Could you do it and retain an atom of your own self respect? No, you could not. Nor can we. That little darkey has been all of those things to us for many years and we can not and will not turn him adrift. You, or some of you, object to his presence on this dock. Very well, we will leave the dock. He will not bother you even with his presence. All we ask is that if you come across him elsewhere at any time that you do him no harm. We appeal to your sense of fair play. We do not believe any American lacks that sense. We ask this not through fear but because it is right and just."
A murmur ran through the group of fishermen when the lad concluded and turning around walked back to his friends. He had little hopes that his words had done any good but the chance had seemed worth the attempt.
Chris soon called them to breakfast and as soon as it was finished, the boys brought the "Dixie" alongside and stored their belongings in her cabin.
After a few attempts Charley succeeded in starting, the engine and with the captain at the wheel and their skiffs in tow behind, they swung away from the dock and headed across the bay for a little island on which stood the Roberts camp. As they approached the place, they were delighted with the looks of the little camp. They landed at a neat little wharf, on either side of which wereneat, well-built net racks upon which were neatly hung well-mended nets. The skiffs hauled upon the shore were well-painted and in excellent shape. A trim little path bordered with sea shells led up up to a neat, cozy, white-painted cottage nestling in amongst a group of cocoanut palms.
"These Roberts are tidy as sailors," observed Captain Westfield. "We can bank on their being pretty near all right. I never saw a clean, tidy man that was a bad man."
As Charley had expected, they found the Roberts at home taking a needed day's rest after their hard work.
They greeted the little party cordially. "Glad to see you," said Bill Roberts, heartily. "Hope that you will drop in on us often now that you have found the way."
"We have come to bother you already," Charley said. "I thought perhaps you could tell us if there would be any objection to our making a camp on one of these islands."
"What, tired of life on the dock already?" grinned Bill.
Charley briefly related their experiences with the fishermen. Bill and his brothers, Frank and Robert, were indignant. "It's some of that Hunter gang's doings," Bill declared. "Most of the fishermen are not such bad fellows but they are afraid to oppose the gang for fear of what might be doneto them on the sly. You have done just right to leave there, now, you won't be mixed up in any of their troubles. Sure you can make camp on any of these islands. They are owned by the state and no one has got any right to object. You could build a shack right here on our island but I've got a better idea than that. You see that island right over there opposite the Clearwater dock? That's Palm Island. There is a pretty fair abandoned house on it which with only a little fixing up would do you first rate. There's a good spring of cold water on it too. I'll take a run over there with you and show you where the spring is."
The little party gratefully accepted his offer. Just as they were shoving off from the dock, the younger brother came running down with a rifle in his hands. "Better take this," he offered. "We have got an extra one and it may come handy to you. You can return it later on if you find you have no use for it."
Our friends thanked him for his kindness. A weapon was what they had been longing for since their acquaintance with the fishermen. They hoped to never have occasion to use one, but its possession gave them a sense of security.
They were delighted with the little cabin and spring that Bill showed them on Palm Island. The island itself was a small one of about ten acres and densely covered with palms. It was long and narrow.One of its snow-white beaches fronted on the Gulf of Mexico and the other on the bay. The cabin was in a good state of repair, and the spring gushed up clear and cold from under a clump of rock.
Their new friend soon took his departure giving them one last piece of advice before he went.
"Better leave one man in camp all the time," he said. "It needs one to do the cooking and keep nets mended up, and it's best not to take any chances. That Hunter gang may drop in on you any time."
As soon as he was gone, the little party fell to work fixing up their new home with which they were one and all delighted.
"I wishwe could get to fishing right off," Charley observed, "but I believe it will pay us best to get everything fixed up right first, then we will have nothing to bother us and we will be able to fish steadily without any interruptions."
"Issue your commands, boss, and they shall be carried out," Walter assured him.
"The cabin is the first thing to be attended to. There isn't much fixing required, as I can see, except to clean it up a little. But we need something for beds, bare planks make pretty hard sleeping. How do you suppose some clean dry sea moss would do for couches?"
"Just the thing," Captain Westfield declared. "I like the sweet salty smell of it. I'll bring some up from the beach, and clean up the house too, that's my job."
"We had ought to have some kind of a fireplace to cook on," Charley continued. "It's a little trouble to build one, but there's lots of rock on the beach and it hadn't ought to take very long."
"Dis nigger's goin' to 'tend to dat," announced Chris. "I'se de cook an' I knows jes' what kind ob oven I wants. I'se goin' to see if I can't find something to eat too. We ain't got but mighty little grub left an' we best save it all we can."
"Well, Walter and I will try to manage the rest of the work, then. Come on, Walt, we have got to build a small dock and racks for our nets."
There was plenty of driftwood on the beach and with proper tools the two boys would have taken but a short time to complete their tasks, but the only implements they possessed were their sheath knives.
"This is a case where necessity has got to be the mother of invention," Charley observed. "Let's pick out our driftwood as near of the same length as we can, that will save some cutting which would be an almost impossible job without saw or axe. We had better tackle the dock job first because it's the hardest. Let's see—we will want six stout pieces for posts, three others for cross pieces, and a lot of planks for the top."
Although the driftwood was plentiful, it took the boys some time to find just what they wanted and carry it all to the place they had decided to have their wharf.
"Now comes the hardest part of the job," Charley announced, as they dumped their last load onthe sand. "That is to get our posts set. I don't see any way to do but get overboard and work them down by hand."
"Here goes, then," said Walter, beginning to shed his clothing.
The water was not very deep and the boys stood one of the posts upright and attempted to work the end down into the bottom by swaying the top back and forth.
"It's no go," panted Walter after half an hour of hard labor which only sank the post a few inches in the hard sand. "It would take us ten years to put them all far enough down to hold."
"I expect we will have to give up the dock for the present," Charley agreed, ruefully. "Too bad. Of course one is not absolutely necessary but it would save us a good deal of trouble and also wet feet."
"It is lucky that your assistant is a person of great intelligence," Walter observed, slyly. "Your methods are primitive, clumsy, hand-labor methods. This is an age of machinery and brains. Now, if I were boss of this, job, I would call in the aid of machinery to replace the hand methods which have been tried and found wanting."
"I resign as superintendent in your favor," Charley grinned. "There is more honor than pay attached to the position, anyway. It will be a good opening for you. You will be able to say in futureyears that you held at least one position where you were not paid more than you were worth."
"Your words are prompted by intellectual jealousy," declared his chum, calmly. "However, it is the misfortune of the truly great not to be appreciated until they are dead. If you will bring the launch in here, I'll explain my plan so simply that a child, or even you, can understand it."
Charley, deciding that he was getting the worst of the good-natured banter, obediently waded out and brought the launch in.
"I don't know whether you are well enough acquainted with engines to realize it," mocked Walter, who had only made the discovery himself that morning, "but the cylinder of this engine, as you will see when I point it out, is inclosed in a hollow iron jacket. This thing down here is a pump, and you will notice that there is one pipe running from it down through the bottom of the boat and also another pipe leading into the jacket. Observe also that there is a short piece of pipe in the jacket to which is fastened a piece of hose that runs out over the side of the boat. Do you take in all that?"
"I do," said Charley, briefly.
"All right, though I am quite surprised. Now, when the engine is running that pump sucks up water through the pipe that goes through the bottom of the boat. The water is forced through the other pipe into the jacket and passes overboardagain through the short pipe and hose. The constant circulation of cold water keeps the engine from heating up and exploding."
"You know more about engines than I suspected yesterday," Charley said, dryly.
"I know many things that would surprise you," observed Walter, calmly. "Now, I will show you how simple it is for a brainy person to make practical use of such things. Now, we'll just fasten the end of that hose to the end of the post and start up the engine. The force of the expelled water will wash away the sand from below the post permitting it to sink."
"Yes, and you will start the engine the wrong way and pump the poor post out of the water," Charley jeered.
"The superintendent does not stoop to manual labor," replied Walter, calmly. "I shall simply order my assistant to start the engine."
The joke was on Charley and he owned it by starting up the engine without further parley.
"Now get overboard and hold the post steady," Walter commanded, and his chum meekly obeyed.
The idea was really an excellent one. The post sank rapidly and in an hour all six were sunk to the required depth. Charley labored in the water with suspicious willingness while Walter, bare-backed, sat proudly and comfortably in the launch tending the switch and giving orders with sarcasticcomments on the worker's ability. From time to time, Charley glanced up with a malicious grin at him sitting in naked state by the engine. That grin made Walter uneasy, for it was not often that he got the best of his chum in a joke and Charley's meekness was suspicious.
"Now for the cross pieces. Put them on next," he ordered. "By jove, how are we going to fasten them though. We have got no nails or hammer."
"This is an age of machinery and brains," quoted Charley. "Surely my brilliant superintendent can overcome such a little difficulty."
Walter puzzled for a few minutes. "I'll have to give up," he admitted. "I resign as superintendent. Give your orders, Mr. Super and I'll execute them." He flopped over the launch's side into the water.
"Ouch!" he yelled. "What's the matter with this water? It smarts me like fire."
"There's nothing the matter with the water," grinned Charley, "it is just nice, cool, clear sea water. I am enjoying it. The salt in it does not agree with a badly sunburned back, however."
"My! I should say it doesn't," agreed his chum, as the reason for the smarting dawned upon him. "Now laugh. Go ahead, don't mind my feelings. I am not sensitive."
And thus with good-natured banter, the two boysmade light work of their heavy, disagreeable task.
Charley solved the lack of nails and hammer, by plaiting some stout ropes of cocoanut fiber with which he securely bound the cross pieces in place. After that it was only a few minutes' task to lay on the planks for the top and their wharf was completed.
The net racks gave them less trouble, as they consisted merely of two poles about four feet apart set up on posts.
By noon, the boys' tasks were completed and they repaired to the cabin where they found that the captain and Chris had not wasted their time. The cabin had been made neat and clean and in each corner was a great heap of dry fragrant sea moss upon which their blankets were already spread.
Just outside the door, Chris had cunningly constructed a kind of rude, flat-topped stove out of rocks, and the fragrant odors coming from it caused the boys to quicken their steps.
"My, Chris, if that dinner tastes as good as it smells, it will be all right," Charley said.
The little negro beamed with delight. "Trust dis nigger to git plenty to eat," he grinned. "Don't make no difference if dat poor white trash steals all the grub, dis nigger can get up a good meal all right. I'se just got up a kind of feast to-day 'cause hit's our first meal on de Island."
And a feast it truly was. First came a thick soup or stew that was delicious. "What's this, Chris?" Charley asked, as he smacked his lips over the first spoonful. "It's a new one on me."
"Dem's stewed scallops. I find lots of dem on the flats," declared the delighted little negro. "Dey are powerful hard to open an' clean, but dey sure beat oysters all hollow for tastiness. Don't eat too much ob dem, Massa Chas, 'cause dar's lots ob other things comin' yet."
The next dish was a large fish baked until the juicy meat was dropping from the bones. With it came the tender, baked bud of a palmetto cabbage, and great red, boiled claws of stone crabs. To top off with, there were golden brown, feather-weight flap-jacks with syrup and white, milky cocoa plums.
The little party ate like cannibals, while Chris urged more upon them, tickled with the success of the feast he had prepared.
"I hate to quit, but I haven't got room for another mouthful," Charley declared, at last. "Come on, Walt, stop it. There is more work to do this afternoon and I don't want to do it all by myself. Besides you are going to get another meal to-night."
"That's right, begrudge me a few mouthfuls of food," grumbled Walter as he rose slowly and painfully from the table.
The afternoon was busily spent in putting theirnets on the racks, overhauling the skiffs, and making themselves more familiar with the launch's engine. Night found all hands tired and sleepy. As soon as supper was over, they stretched out on their soft spicy couches ready to get back the sleep they had lost the night before.
At midnight Charley sat up suddenly wide awake. For a moment he sat still and alert. Everything was quiet. Yet he knew that something unusual had occurred to rouse him from his sound slumber. This sudden awakening was a habit bred by his adventurous life amid the perils of sea and forest. Silently he waited, every nerve alert, to sense what had happened. At last it came again, a deep, mellow, horn-like sound. One, two, three times it vibrated on the still night air, then came silence again.
Softly he crept over and awakened Walter and the captain. "I don't know what's the matter, but some one is signaling on a conch shell," he explained, "and the sound is not far off."
LeavingChris still peacefully snoring, the three stole softly outside the cabin. Once outside they paused and listened again for a repetition of the strange signal.
They had not long to wait for in a few minutes, it came again, a long melodious mellow note, three times sounded.
"It comes from the Gulf," Captain Westfield declared. "Let's go down to the point. We can see both bay and gulf from there."
The island terminated in a long sand point that ran out into a passage that connected the bay with the Gulf of Mexico. To it, the three hastened their steps. Just as they stepped out on the sand spit, the mysterious signal sounded again.
"There it is," Charley cried, pointing out to sea. "It's a ship."
Out in the Gulf, about three hundred yards from where they stood, a dim shadowy mass loomed up vaguely in the darkness.
"It's a ship all right," Captain Westfield agreed,"but thar's something queer about her. No ship ever comes in close to these shores. With all the reefs thar are around hyar it's too dangerous unless one knows the channels mighty well. Then, that ain't no distress signal she's sounding,—four long blasts is the distress signal the world over. Then too she ain't got lights—that ain't proper and shipshape."
Even as he spoke, a bright flash blazed up from the strange vessel's deck. It only lasted a few seconds, but in that brief space it lit up the mysterious stranger, showing a huddled mass of men in her waist and throwing into sharp distinctness every rope and spar.
"A flare," cried Walter, "they are certainly signaling some one."
"There is something familiar about those spars," Charley exclaimed. "Did you notice them, Captain?"
"No. I was looking at the hull. She sits low as a pirate craft. She's schooner rigged and about one hundred tons burden. Hallo! Here comes some one who has heard her signals. We can find out about her all right."
From the bay came the quick chug chug of a motor turning up at full speed. As she swept into the passage, the little party could tell even in the dim light that she was a large launch and traveling at a rapid rate.
"Ahoy!" hailed Charley, as the strange launch came abreast.
The launch's engine was stopped at his call, but no answer came to his hail.
"Ahoy!" he shouted again. "Can you tell us what ship that is and what she wants?"
A string of low-muttered curses came from the launch, and almost at the same minute a single fiery rocket hissed aloft from her deck. Immediately her engine began to throb again.
"Why, she's turned around and going back!" exclaimed Captain Westfield in amazement.
"Look at the schooner!" cried Walter.
From the mysterious ship came muffled orders and the creak of blocks as sails were hoisted and sheeted home.
Slowly the put-put of the launch's engine died away in the distance from which it had come, and the mysterious schooner, under full sail, glided silently away in the darkness.
"I'll be joggered!" exclaimed Captain Westfield. "That's queer. I wonder what they were up to."
"Something that will not bear the light of day, I guess," said Charley, thoughtfully. "I believe it was our hail that frightened the fellows in the launch and their rocket was a signal to the schooner to clear out. Well, I guess the excitement is over for the night and we might as well go back to bed."
Walter and the captain lay awake for some time discussing the strange incident but Charley lay long awake on his couch, silent and thoughtful. He was puzzling to determine where he had seen the strange schooner before. In the second, the flare had revealed her in the darkness, he had sensed something vaguely familiar in the low graceful hull and the set of the raking masts.
"Where have I ever seen a foremast that raked aft like that one," he pondered. Suddenly it flashed vivid and distinct in his groping memory. "No, no," he muttered to himself. "It simply can't be her. It must only be a chance resemblance. That flare only lasted a second. Guess I am getting to imagine things. I'd better forget it and try to go to sleep."
Never-the-less it was long before he rid his alert brain of the tormenting thought and compelled sleep to come.
When he awoke, it was to find his chums up before him. Chris had breakfast cooking and Captain Westfield had just returned from taking a morning plunge in the surf. Walter was not in sight, but he soon appeared bearing a sack full of turtle eggs which he had found on the beach.
"I've been exploring our island," he announced. "Say, some of the fishermen must come over here to hold their celebrations. There are several well-worn paths on the island. I followed two of themand they both led into the same place, a little clearing in a thick bunch of palms. It looks as though there had been several fights there for the ground is all trampled up as though it had been dug, and I found a couple of long, queer-looking clubs and this full bottle. What's in it, Charley? I can't make out the label."
Charley took the big black bottle and examined the label that had puzzled his chum. "It's in Spanish," he announced, then translated rapidly: "Aguardiente, 100 Proof, Manufactured by Sicava & Sons, Santiago, Cuba." He pulled the cork and a pungent reeking odor filled the air.
"Why, it's rum," said Captain Westfield.
"A kind of rum," Charley agreed, "only far stronger and more fiery. No wonder the fishermen fight if this is the kind of stuff they drink. It would make a rabbit spit at an elephant."
"Throw it away," Walter said. "We don't want the vile stuff."
"No, I think I will keep it," said his chum, thoughtfully. "I have a notion that this little bottle is going to be mighty useful some time."
"How's that?" Walter questioned, but the spell of silent thoughtfulness was still upon Charley and he paid no heed to the question.
"I wish you fellows would go down and pull the nets into the skiffs," he said, as soon as breakfastwas over. "I will be down as soon as I take a dip in the surf."
"Why, what do you want the nets on so early for?" Walter protested. "We don't fish except at night, do we?"
"We need to have a little drill," Charley explained. "It will be easier for you to learn how to handle the nets in the day time, and we will not have to waste any of our precious night time practicing."
As soon as the three were gone, Charley left the camp himself. He did not pause at the beach to take a swim, however. Instead he turned into one of the well-beaten paths Walter had spoken of. He was following up a vague suspicion that had been growing in his mind and, for good reasons, he wanted to follow it out alone. If he was right in his surmises then would be the time to tell his chums. There was no use of worrying them until he was certain.
His keen eyes noted one peculiar thing that his chum had not observed the significance of. All the paths led inward from the gulf beach and none from the bay.
A few minutes' walk brought him to the cleared place Walter had described. It was only a few feet in extent and was densely surrounded by a thick growth of cocoanut palms. No one a fewfeet distant would have suspected its existence so well was it hidden from sight.
At the entrance to the little space, Charley picked up two heavy pieces of timber about six feet in length. "These are Walter's clubs," he grinned. "Well, I suppose one could take them for that but clubs don't generally have a nice smooth rounded hand grip at each end and clubs the length of these things would be awkward to handle at close quarters. I have an idea these were used to carry heavy burdens. They would come pretty handy for that. Just lay the thing to be carried across them and one man take hold of the ends in front and another man at the back. Strange, Walter did not notice an odd thing about this clearing too. There is not a root or twig on the ground. Men would hardly fix up a place as clean just to fight in. He is right about one thing, though, this ground does look as though it had been all dug up, and unless all my guess is wrong, it has been dug up. Let's see how near I've hit to the mark with my suspicions."
He got down on his knees and began to dig in the soft earth. In a few minutes he came upon that which he sought. It was not unexpected for all his theories had pointed the one way. As he dug over here and there, however, he grew amazed at the magnitude of his discovery. At last he ceased his digging and carefully filled up the manyholes he had made trying to smooth over the face of the ground the same as it was before. This accomplished to his satisfaction, he stood up with a thoughtful frown on his face.
Should he tell his companions of his discovery, he pondered. It was of no use to any of them at present. Would it be wise to tell them yet? Some one might let slip a word in an unguarded moment that would spoil everything. "The more that knows a secret the greater the chance of its leaking out," he reflected. "No," he would not tell them at present.
Having reached this decision, he made his way back to the beach. Stripping, he took a hurried plunge in the surf and hastily dressing hurried across the island to the skiffs.
"We have got the nets all aboard," Walter greeted him with.
One glance at the heaped up nets in the skiffs' stern and Charley's face fell.
"Whew!" he whistled, "you have sure done it now. Well, it's all my fault. I should have explained to you how to boat a net. They don't want to be piled up in a heap like that. You can't run out a net in that shape. It would all tangle up and go out in lumps and bunches. When you boat a net, you want to pile the lead line up carefully on one side of the stern and the cork line on the other letting the loose webbing fall in between,then it will run out smoothly without tangles and snarls."
The nets had to be all tumbled out of the skiffs and hauled in again as Charley had directed.
His chums were quite crestfallen over their mistake, but he only laughed. "Everything is new to you and you are bound to make a lot of mistakes at first," he assured them, "but you will soon catch on. Don't get discouraged over a little mistake like that, you'll make many bigger ones before you get used to the business. Hallo, I guess we are going to have some visitors. That launch out there is heading in here."
Theboys glanced up from their work from time to time at the rapidly approaching motor boat.
"My, but she is a fast one!" commented Charley, noting the crest of foam at her bow and the rapid popping of her exhaust. "I believe she is as fast, or faster, than our 'Dixie.'"
Within a few minutes after they had sighted her, she was near enough for the chums to distinguish her passengers or crew.
"Why, the man at the wheel is that fisherman Hunter," Walter exclaimed, "and there are four more with him, some of his gang, I suppose."
"I wonder what they want with us," speculated the captain, uneasily.
"Nothing pleasant, I guess," said Charley, gravely. "I believe those fellows are bent on making trouble for us. Let's not have any words with them, if we can help it. If we have got to have a fuss with 'em at all though, I guess now is as good a time as ever. I'll get Chris out of the way," he added, in an undertone to Walter. "He doesnot know yet that he is the innocent cause of our trouble, and there is no use letting him if we can help it. It would make the poor little chap feel awfully bad."
As soon as it was apparent beyond all doubt that the launch was coming in to the little dock, he called the little negro to one side.
"I want you to go up to the cabin and stay there until I call you," he directed. "If I give one long whistle, come a running and bring the rifle with you."
The little negro was barely out of sight, when the big launch, its engine shut off, glided in to the dock.
Besides the sallow-faced Hunter, it contained four fellows almost as vicious and mean looking as himself. Hunter made the launch fast to a post and climbed out on the dock followed by his companions.
Our little party greeted the visitors with a pleasant good morning.
"Good morning," grunted Hunter with a snarl, "I didn't come all the way over here just to say good morning though."
"Then what did you come for?" demanded Walter curtly, his quick temper beginning to flare up at the fellow's insolent tones.
"I am going to let you know mighty quick,"snarled Hunter. "You brought that little nigger over here with you, didn't you?"
"We did," Charley answered briefly.
"Well, you-all have got to get off this island—and get off of it mighty quick," he declared.
"Why," Captain Westfield demanded, his own anger beginning to rise.
"First place, 'cause you ain't got any right to stay here. This island belongs to a friend of mine and I've got charge of it."
Charley was keeping his temper well in hand though he was as angry as his chums. "We have been advised that this island belongs to the state," he said, coolly, "and we believe what we have been told. We have got as much right on state land as you or any one else."
"Well, I give you notice to get off right away. We don't allow no niggers in the fishing business 'round hyar."
"Now look here, Hunter," Charley said coolly, "you fellows objected to our having the little negro with us on the dock. Very well, we moved over here to avoid trouble. Now you come over here and try to order us off this island which we have as many rights to as you. That's going too far and we are not going to stand for it."
"We ain't going to have no niggers fishing 'round hyar," repeated Hunter doggedly.
"Chris is not going to do any fishing. He is our cook—and a mighty good one too."
"Don't make any difference. You fellows have got to get off this island."
"Which we refuse to do," Charley said defiantly.
"Amen to that," agreed Captain Westfield, hotly.
"You'll have a hard job making us," chimed in Walter.
Hunter's sallow face reddened with anger. "If you smart Alecks ain't off this island before to-morrow night you'll get what's coming to you," he snarled.
"Look here, Hunter," Charley said, quietly, "it strikes me you are a little bit too anxious to get us to leave here and I think I know the reason. Now you fellows had better get in your boat and go. We want nothing to do with you and your gang. We will tend to our own business and you had better tend to yours. If you bother us any more, well, I know of an officer who would be willing to pay a good big sum to know about a strange craft that haunts this coast in the night, and a motor boat that answers her signals."
It was a chance shot on Charley's part but it went home.
"We wasn't out at all last night," denied Hunter."We were all in bed, didn't even go fishing."
"I never mentioned last night," said Charley, quickly, and Hunter muttered a curse as he saw the slip he had made.
"You're only doing a lot of wild guessing, and guessing ain't proof," he snarled. "Take all the guesses you want to your officer. He won't do anything. He's got to have proofs."
Charley realized with regret that his veiled threat had failed, but he tried not to show his chagrin.
"Leave here," he ordered. "Get into your boat and go."
"I'm leaving right now," Hunter snarled. "But you'll be leaving here for good before two days are gone. Before I go, I'm going to slap you around a bit to teach you some manners, you young whelp. Look out for them other two, boys, while I give this smart Aleck a dressing down."
His companions drawing their sheath knives, crowded threateningly towards Walter and the captain while he lunged forward at Charley who stood his ground a little pale but unafraid. He came at the lad with a rush, both fists swinging. "Keep back," Charley cried, but Hunter aimed a swinging blow at his head with all his force.
Charley ducked with the quickness he had learnedin a Y. M. C. A. gym and at the same instant drove his right fist forward with all of his weight behind it. It caught the sallow fisherman fair on his chin and sent him reeling backwards. He staggered and almost fell but recovering himself with an oath whipped out his sheath knife and came rushing at the plucky lad.
It was a desperate situation. A lightning glance out of the corner of his eye showed Charley he could expect no help from his chums. They were menaced by the three ruffians with upraised knives. Their own knives lay in their fishing belts up in the cabin. No stick or club was within his reach. It was a case of bare hands against naked steel. Hunter came at him with a savage thrust. The lad leaped lightly to one side to avoid it. His foot slipped on a mossy rock and down he went on the sand.
With a yell of triumph the fishermen leaped for him as he lay half-dazed by his fall.
Crack, crack, crack came three sharp reports and the shrill whine of whistling bullets sang above the prostrate lad.
The effect on the fishermen was startling.
With a cry Hunter turned and ran for the launch and his companions crowding at his heels.
"We'll get you yet," he yelled as he hurriedly cast off. "We'll get you when you ain't got that little nigger behind a tree guarding you with agun. We"—but his curses were lost in the crackle of the engine as he threw on the switch.
Walter and the captain hurried to Charley and helped him up from the sand.
"I am all right," he declared as soon as he was on his feet. "I came down so hard it knocked the wind out of me for a moment but I am all right now."
"Chris shot just in time," Walter exclaimed. "I thought you were going to be killed before our eyes."
"I don't believe they would have gone that far," said his chum. "Hunter might have beat me up a bit but I think he aimed to frighten us off the island more than anything else."
"I wonder why he is so anxious to drive us away from here," pondered Walter, puzzledly.
"That's easy to tell," Charles declared. "His gang are smuggling aguardiente here from Cuba. That was the meaning of that schooner, the motor boat, and those signals last night. I found a cache of the stuff in that cleared place this morning. There must be five hundred bottles of it."
"Then all we have to do is to tell the sheriff and he'll put the gang where they will not bother us any more," Walter exclaimed in relief.
"That's what I tried to bluff Hunter into thinking," replied his chum, "but it did not work. You see, we have got no proofs and he knows it. We seea schooner at night acting queerly, also a motor boat, and we find a stock of aguardiente buried on the island, but that proves nothing against the Hunter gang or anyone else for that matter. Of course, I feel sure that they are the guilty ones but that isn't proof."
"I reckon we are in something of a mess," said Captain Westfield, worriedly. "We are going to have trouble with those fellows sure. They can't carry on such a game with us here on the island, and it ain't likely they are going to stay quiet and lose all that stuff they've got cached."
"It looks bad," Charley admitted, gravely. "We must talk it over carefully and decide what is best to do. But where's Chris? It's funny he don't show himself. Something must be the matter."
With a sudden alarm, Charley hastened up for the cabin, followed by his chums.
As soon as he came in sight of the hut, he slackened his speed with a sigh of relief for the little negro was seated in the doorway with the rifle in his hands.
"Good work, Chris," he exclaimed. "Your shots came just in the nick of time. I am glad you didn't hit any of them though."
"I ain't shot none, Massa Chas," protested the little negro. "You dun tole me to stay right hyar till you whistle an' you ain't whistled yet."
"Then where did those shots come from?" Charley demanded.
"Hit sounded like dey come from where you-alls was," Chris declared.
"Then they must have come from the fringe of palms close to the beach," Charley decided. "Well, some one on the island has done us a good turn and we better look him up and thank him. Likely he didn't want to be seen and recognized by Hunter."
But at the end of an hour they were back at the cabin, a thoroughly mystified little group. They had been all over their little domain but no sign of a human being had they discovered.
Allthe little party were greatly puzzled but Chris was the one most troubled. The superstitious little negro was quick to attach an uncanny meaning to the strange incident.
"Hit was a ghost," he declared, solemnly. "Dat's jes' de way de ghosts do on Cat Island. Nobody can ebber find 'em when dey look for 'em. Dey jes' melt into de air."
"Bosh, Chris," derided Charley, "there are no such things as ghosts."
"Yes dar is, Massa Chas," persisted the little darkey. "Plenty of people has seed dem a heap ob times. My ole daddy on Cat Island dun seen one once. He come 'cross hit on de road one moonlight night. Hit was all white an' bigger den any man an' dar was blue fire comin' out ob hits eyes, an' nose, an' mouth. Daddy run like de wind an' he dun got away from hit. But he always 'lowed if he hadn't had his conjurer charm tied 'round his neck hit would hab cotched him sho'. Sho' dar is ghosts."
Walter laughed. "Well, if there are bad spiritsthere must be good spirits also, Chris," he observed, "and this one seems to be a pretty good sort. He certainly done us a good turn. If I ever meet him, I hope he will not do the vanishing act for I want to thank him."
But Chris was not to be reassured and he went about his task of getting dinner muttering darkly to himself.
"Frankly, what do you make of it?" Walter inquired of his chum as they waited the preparation of the meal.
"I? I don't know what to think of it yet," Charley confessed. "As soon as I found out that it was not Chris who did the shooting I thought maybe one of the Roberts boys had landed on the other side of the island and happened to come across just in the nick of time. I can understand that no one would want to be seen by the Hunter gang for the sake of avoiding future trouble with them, but I can not for the life of me understand why the unknown should wish to avoid us, also. That is the puzzling part. Why did he vanish, and where did he go to? He had no time to get away in a boat without our seeing him. It's a mystery to me."
"I ain't worrying much about that," observed Captain Westfield. "Whoever it was he was friendly to us and that's more than we can say for that Hunter gang. We are bound to have moretrouble with them, I fear, and I don't see any way to steer clear of it unless we pick up and leave this part of the country."
"We can't do that," Walter declared. "We are penniless and there is no other work we can do around here. Besides we owe a good big bill at the store and it would not be right to go away and leave it for Mr. Daniels to pay."
"No," agreed the captain, "we can't do that. Well, I don't know what is best to do. What's your opinion, Charley?"
"Of course, we can't leave here," replied the lad, decidedly, "and I for one, don't want to leave. There are four of the Hunter gang and there are four of us. It's true, we have only one gun amongst us while they are probably well armed. In a way, I do not think the question of weapons is so very important. I do not believe that they will provoke a serious open fight. That demonstration this morning was to frighten us away. There is law in this state and officers capable of enforcing it, and, bad as that Hunter gang is reputed to be, I do not believe the members of it are going to run the risk of being hung for any open killing. What evil they will try to do to us will be done secretly and in such a way that we can not have them arrested for it. I judge, that is the way they have always done their meanness from what Bill Roberts said to Hunter that day. If we stay here thatis what we will have to always be on our guard against. Of course such a state of things will not be pleasant but I believe we are as bright as they and by being watchful we will give them little chance to do us any injury."
"What about that stuff they've got cached," objected Captain Westfield. "It's worth too much money for them to let it lay where it is and they won't dare take it away as long as we are on the island."
"I've been thinking of that," Charley answered, "and I believe, the best thing to be done is to get the stuff off the island. If we catch any fish to-night, we will have to take them over to Clearwater and just tell Mr. Daniels about our finding the stuff. Likely, he will see that it is removed at once. That will rid the Hunter gang of the necessity of driving us off the island and it will likely scare them so that it will be some time before they attempt to smuggle any more in."
"Wall, I reckon, that is the best course for us to steer," agreed the old sailor. "Of course, they'll have a grudge against us for the loss of the stuff but they've got one against us anyway, so it don't make much difference. We'll have to leave some one in camp all the time so as to protect our grub and things."
"We will leave Chris," Charley decided. "One of us will have to cook and keep the nets mendedup anyway and Chris is certainly the boy for the cooking job. We will leave the rifle with him. At night, or when there is any sign of trouble, he can bar himself up in the cabin and be safer than he would be with us. It's strong as a fort, and the palmetto logs it is built of will not catch fire easy if any one should try to smoke him out."
Accordingly when dinner was finished, Charley explained the situation to the little negro, only telling him of the cached liquor and not mentioning the objections made to his presence amongst them so as to spare the little fellow's sensitive feelings. Chris protested vigorously at the plan to leave him behind.
"I ain't scared ob dat poor white trash," he declared, "but hit ain't noways nice to stay hyar alone wid a haunt walking 'round on dis island. I jes' naturally can't do dat, Massa Chas."
In vain his three companions argued with him. All the superstitions of his race were aroused. "A spirit was a haunting de island," he declared, "an' hit warn't noways wise to stay alone whar a haunt was.
"If I only had my ole daddy's conjurin' charm, hit might be all right," he said, doubtfully. "Hit dun saved him from a ghost once."
"I'll tell you what I'll do," said Charley at last. "I'll let you have my one ghost charm. It will ward off any ghost that ever walked this island."
"Has you got one for sho', Massa Chas? Let's see hit," exclaimed the relieved little darkey.
Charley gravely produced from his pocket a tiny stone, Chinese mannikin, which he had once used as a watch charm and which had found its way into his pockets along with a few other worthless odds and ends. It was grotesquely carved and hideously ugly but Chris viewed it with delight.
"Hit sho' looks like a powerful charm," he declared with the longing for possession.
"I'll guarantee it to protect against any ghost I ever saw," declared Charley, truthfully and solemnly.
"If you could dun spare hit to me, I reckon I wouldn't mind being left behind, Massa Chas," offered the little negro.
"All right," Charley agreed, delighted with the success of his ruse. "You want to be careful not to lose it though. I don't know where I could get another like it."
They left the appeased little darkey engaged in fastening the ugly mannikin with a string around his neck, and took their way down to the dock for the practice drill Charley had decided upon.
"Now, I don't want to be bossy," the lad explained as they made their preparations for the trial, "but, as things are, I happen to be the only one of us who has had any experience in fishing. I would much rather that some one else could takethe lead for fishing is one business where the leader must be obeyed without argument or question. His followers must give him the same quiet service that a military company gives its officers. It is upon such unquestionable following that the successes in fishing largely depends. The leader's position, running head boat it is called, requires quick judgment and swift action, and these can not be had if argument or explanations have to precede them."
"That's all right, I understand what you mean," said Captain Westfield, placidly. "All you will have to do is to give your orders."
"Sure," agreed Walter, "we wouldn't know what to do unless you did."
"All right," agreed Charley. "I want to say, though, before we start, that this fishing is a nerve-trying business, as you will soon find out. Sometimes it wears a person's temper to a wire edge and he will say things and do things he afterwards regrets. If I should happen to speak shortly or curtly any time please overlook it if you can and I will do the same with you. I've seen this fishing game break up old friendships more than once. And now," he concluded, "for our practice. We will suppose now that we are stealing up on a school of fish. Our positions are this. My skiff goes ahead. The captain in his skiff keeps ten feet behind me and a trifle to the left. You, Walter, keepnearly opposite me but about four hundred feet distant. Now, when I give the signal to make a run, I will stop rowing. The captain will back the end of his skiff up to mine and I will tie our two nets together. Then I will shout to you and you will throw the end of your net overboard and we will all start rowing as hard as we can. You will watch my boat, Walter, and keep just opposite me all the time. When our nets are pretty well run out, I will shout again and we will both head directly for each other. When we come together, I go around your stern and cross your net with mine. As soon as you and I start, the captain starts also. He swings away from me and heads for where you dropped the end of your net. He crosses it, and, if he has any net left in his boat, he rows back inside the circle and zigzags back and forth until it is all run out. If we do this all right and luck holds good, we will have our fish penned up like this." With a stick he drew on the sand this simple diagram.