Itwas late in the afternoon when Charley at last awoke. The death-like sleep had done him a world of good and, except for stiffness and muscles that still ached, he felt his old self again.
His companions were both up, moving about and he greeted them brightly.
"I am feeling as fit as a fiddle," he declared. "As soon as I get a bite to eat I'll be ready for another night's fishing."
"To-night is Saturday night," observed Captain Westfield, hesitatingly. "I don't want to stand in the way of making money, but I 'low it won't do no hurt for us to lay in to-night. We might get into a school that would keep us working all night, like last night, and it's noways right to work on the Lord's day."
"That's right," agreed Charley, heartily, "I had lost track of the days. We will not go out again until midnight, Sunday night. I don't believe anyone ever really lost anything by obeying the Lord's command to keep his day holy."
"Have you figured out any plan for dealing with the fishermen?" Walter inquired, anxiously.
"Nothing very brilliant," his chum admitted. "One thing I think we had better do at once is to remove all that liquor to another hiding place and let them think we have destroyed it. It may make them feel more bitter toward us but they will no longer have a motive for driving us from the island. I would like to destroy it entirely but we have no right to do that. That is the sheriff's business. One thing, there is nothing like a good sleep to do away with worry and discouragement. I feel quite hopeful, now, but I was almost ready to quit this morning. After all I guess Hunter has done us about all the damage he can. Our other nets and boats we will always have with us and he will not have much chance to injure them if we keep watch of them. With the liquor gone, they will not be likely to bother us on the island, and, if they do, all we have will be in the cabin protected by a good rifle. Let's change the hiding place, now. We have time to do it before dark."
His companions had no better plan to suggest so they readily agreed to his proposal. Taking with them some bits of thin boards for spades they sought the beach and turned into one of the paths that led to the buried liquor.
"This smuggling business must have been going on for a long time judging from the number ofthese paths and the way they are worn," Charley observed. "Hunter ought to be rich from the enormous profits he makes on the vile stuff. It can be bought for a dollar a gallon in Cuba and on this side, I believe, it retails for five dollars a gallon."
"The man who follows an evil trade, seldom prospers," said Captain Westfield, sagely. "In the end he has to pay for his ill-gotten gains. Generally he has to pay in this life, and he always has to pay in the hereafter."
"I believe you are right," Walter agreed. "I have noticed that saloon-keepers and that class never seem happy. Even those who make money seem to be cursed with drunken children or something equally bad, and if they have a shred of conscience, they must suffer terribly in secret for the misery they cause and the punishment they must expect in the life hereafter."
This conversation had brought them to the cache, and, pulling off their coats, they fell to work with their rude spades.
They worked with a will and sent the loose sand flying for the sun was sinking low and they wished to complete their task before dark. In a few minutes they had made a hole a couple of feet deep, and some ten feet across.
"We ought to be down to it," said Charley,with a puzzled frown. "It must be covered deeper than I thought."
They worked on for a few minutes longer, then Charley threw down the board with which he had been shoveling. "It has been taken away," he declared, voicing the conviction which had grown upon his companions. "They got it last night, after all, Chris."
"I doan see how, Massa Chas," objected the little darkey, "I watched dem come up de path an' I watched dem run away."
"They must have come back after you went to sleep," Charley said, but Chris shook his head decidedly.
"I doan sleep none arter dat," he persisted. "I laid awake and watched de balance ob de night."
"Maybe, they had a boat on the gulf beach, also," Walter suggested, "and while some of them drew attention to the dock, the others removed the stuff."
"Well, anyway, it's gone, and I am glad of it," Charley said. "Maybe they will not trouble us any more now. I confess that they were beginning to get on my nerves. Let's go back to the cabin and get supper and have a good sleep. Thank goodness we will likely rest one night in peace."
His companions were nothing loath for they had not yet got entirely over their aches and pains.
The night passed away uneventfully and morning found them entirely their old selves once more.
"We are over the worst part now," Charley assured them. "Of course we will often come in very tired but we will never again feel like we did those first two nights, and the longer we fish the less we will mind the labor."
As soon as breakfast was over, Captain Westfield produced his old, well-worn Bible from which he was never separated and read a couple of chapters of the story of Him he loved with all his big, simple, trusting heart.
The simple service was just over when they heard the throbbing of an engine and they hurried down to the dock just in time to greet the Roberts who had come over in their launch to pay them a friendly call.
It was pleasant to our little party to see friendly faces and hear kindly conversation after all the roughness and suspicion they had met among the unfriendly fishermen. It was good to feel that they were not alone entirely in their new life and that there was someone who took a friendly interest in them and wished them well.
They began to have a strong liking for the three sturdy brothers, they appeared so frank, open and sincere.
Bill had brought over with him the rifle he had mentioned and presented it to them, together with a box of cartridges.
He was deeply interested to learn that the liquor had been removed.
"It is a queer thing," he remarked. "I saw the Hunter gang come in Friday night about midnight. I had got caught over to Clearwater with a loose shaft and I was working on it when their boat came in. I supposed they had been fishing and I glanced into their launch to see what they had caught. It was empty. Of course, they could have hidden a few bottles in the lockers but not any such amount as you say was buried here. They were all mad as the deuce and quarreling amongst themselves. I didn't get the shaft fixed until about two o'clock. Their boat was still at the dock when I left and I could hear them snoring in their shanty. Another thing, I was over again last night to see if our new nets had come and I couldn't help but notice that apparently there was no drinking going on. Saturday night is pay night, and, if Hunter had had that liquor, he would certainly have been handing it out on the quiet and there would have been more or less drunken men about."
"Then who could have taken it, if the fishermen didn't?" demanded Charley, thoroughly puzzled.
"Can't imagine, unless that ghost of Chris' did it," admitted Bill, with a grin. "That was a curious thing to happen, and if I did not know that you fellows are the truthful kind, I would believe youwere trying to kid me with that yarn. We have been here some time, and we have never heard of any stranger on this island. Let's take a look over: it again and see if there is any cave or other place a man could hang out."
The others readily agreed to his proposal, and all set out together for a closer exploration of the island. They made a thorough search from end to end, and from shore to shore, but could find no place a man could hide out or any trace of human habitation. The shores were sloping sand beaches without rocks or caves and the only growth was the scanty groups of palms.
They returned to the cabin more mystified than ever for they had convinced themselves beyond doubt that they were the only occupants of the island.
"Well, if the fishermen haven't got that liquor, I suppose we must look for more trouble," Charley sighed.
"I expect you may," Bill agreed. "Even if they have got it, I guess, they would not give you a very long rest. As soon as it was gone, they would want to bring in more and this is the only island around with a good gulf beach to land the stuff on. Also it's the handiest and most convenient for their purposes."
"Then it's a case of move or be in trouble all the time," said Walter, dubiously.
"Yes, that's about it," Bill agreed.
"We can't leave yet," said Charley, decidedly, "so we will have to take whatever is coming to us. If we could only catch them in the act of smuggling, we could get rid of them for good and be conferring a blessing on the rest of the fishermen besides."
"That's the very thing I've been thinking of," Bill agreed. "Whether they got the liquor again or not, they are sure to try the game again as soon as they think it's safe. I've been doing considerable thinking about it since I talked to you before and I've got a scheme I think might work."
He proceeded to unfold his plan while the others listened with eager interest.
"It might work," said Charley, thoughtfully, "but, while we are waiting, they may do us all kinds of injuries."
"That's a risk you are running, anyway," Bill reminded him, "and we Roberts will do all in our power to help you. Call on us any time, day or night, if you are in trouble and you will find us ready."
Charley thanked him heartily for his offer and soon after the Roberts took their leave.
The little party were still on the dock watching their launch out of sight when they noticed another launch put out from the Clearwater pier, and it soon became apparent that it was headed for their island.
"It's Hunter's craft," announced Walter, as it drew nearer. "Looks as though he had waited for the Roberts to leave to pay us a visit."
As the launch drew nearer they saw it contained but one person and that one Hunter himself.
Huntergreeted the little party with a smile intended to be pleasant but which resembled a grimace on his sallow, evil face.
"Good day, and how are all of you this fine day. Well, I hope," he said.
"We are all right," Charley answered, curtly. "What do you want?"
"Which of you is the leader of this pleasant little party? I want a little business talk with the leader," he said, fawningly. "Just a little business talk. It won't take more than five minutes."
"Wall," observed Captain Westfield, "when we are at sea I'm generally the head man, but hyar on shore an' at this fishing business, I reckon Charley thar does the leading."
"And a good leader he is too, I'll bet," said Hunter, flatteringly.
"Oh, cut out all the soft-soap business," said Charley, shortly, disgusted with the fellow's attempts at flattery. "If you have anything to say to us say it."
"But it's a private business," Hunter protested."Just let me talk to you alone for a few minutes."
Charley was about to refuse the request but curiosity as to what Hunter wanted to say prevailed. With a wink at his chums he accompanied the fellow to one side, apart from his companions.
"Now, say what you have to say and be quick about it," he said, curtly.
Hunter hesitated a moment. "Suppose there was something on this island that I was interested in," he began.
"There is," said Charley, with a grin, "but if you want to talk to me, talk plainly. I know you buried that aguardiente on the island."
"All right, say I did," agreed Hunter, defiantly, dropping his friendly pose. "I don't mind saying I did to you. You can't make anything out of that. If you said I told you I did, I'd swear I didn't. That's why I wanted to talk to you alone. I wasn't hankering for any witnesses to our talk.
"Might as well wait and hear what I have to say," he continued, doggedly, "because I won't say a word before the others."
Charley had started to join his companions but he paused in indecision, and Hunter went on eagerly.
"Say, I did put the stuff there. Say, I could make a lot of money off it right now. Say, I ain't going to dig it up with witnesses to see andtestify agin me. Say, I'd give you fifty dollars to take your party off the island for one single night, one hundred dollars if you quit the island for good. What would you say to that, eh?"
Charley considered for a moment. "Nothing doing," he replied, slowly. "In the first place, you and your gang have done us more than one hundred dollars' damage. No use denying it," he said, hotly, as Hunter protested his innocence. "You were pretty slick with your tricks but we know who has been responsible for our troubles. In the second place, to smuggle in and to sell liquor in a dry county is a felony. If we connived at we would be guilty also. Third, I wouldn't take your word for anything. Lastly, I don't know where the stuff is, anyway."
"You lie!" snarled Hunter, his little black eyes flashing evilly. "You know where it is buried."
Charley grew white around the lips. "Be careful what you say," he cautioned. "If you will just follow me, I'll show you something."
He led the way in silence to where the liquor had been buried.
At sight of the hole and the freshly upturned earth, Hunter grew livid with rage.
"You've stole it, you've stole it," he gasped.
"We have not touched the stuff," Charley denied. "If you fellows didn't remove it, I don't know who did."
"A likely yarn," Hunter sneered. "Nobody knew it was on the island except you and us." He conquered his rage with an effort. "Say," he said, "let's be partners in this. You can't sell the stuff like we can. You don't know the fellows who will buy and keep their mouths shut like we do. I tell you, even we, have to be mighty careful. Why, you'd get arrested before you got it half sold out. Let's be partners; that's fair. There's good money in it. You fellows could tend to the running of it and we could do the selling. We would split the profits up even."
His earnestness convinced the lad that Bill Roberts was right. The fishermen had not got the liquor.
"I have told you the truth, Hunter," he said. "We have not got the stuff and we do not know who has."
"You're holding out on us," Hunter fairly screamed. "You are trying to hog the whole thing. All right, young fellow, what we will do to you will be a plenty. We haven't started on you good, yet. We'll make you regret the day you were born before we are through with you."
"Get off this island," commanded Charley, his patience at an end. "Try all your tricks you want to. We are on the watch for them now. Sometime you'll make a slip and we'll take a turn. Now go!"
Hunter walked down to his boat sullenly, muttering oaths and threats that Charley ignored.
"That fellow is cunning," the lad said, as he related the conversation to his companions. "He admitted everything, but the admission does us no good. He would swear he had said nothing of the kind and the rest of you could not testify for you did not hear his words."
The incident depressed the spirits of all. They had begun to think the persecutions were over and now they threatened to begin afresh.
"Well, there is no help for it," said Charley. "We will have to endure it until we get our plan to working. We will just have to be on our guard day and night until it is settled. Let's turn in now and forget it while we catch a nap. We will need the rest if we are going out at midnight."
They had no watch amongst them but Charley possessed the not uncommon gift of being able to wake at any hour he desired. When he awoke he satisfied himself by a glance at the stars that he was not mistaken in the hour and then aroused his companions.
As the time was short before daylight, they ran but a little way from the dock before anchoring the launch and taking to the boats.
They had hardly got fairly started with the skiffs when Charley called a halt.
"See anything over where you are, Walt?" he called.
"Yes," shouted back his chum, eagerly, "the water is alive with fish of some kind."
"Same here," Charley stated, "but I can't make out just what they are. They are not catfish, and yet, they don't fire just like mullet. Let's try them with just a little piece of our nets and see what they are before we make a big circle."
They had run out but a few yards of net when he gave the signal to close up. "We will not drum up any," he said, as he halted his boat just inside the little circle. "We will get enough in the nets, without, to tell what they are and will not frighten the rest of the school."
A few minutes sufficed to pick up the few yards of net they had out. Charley scanned his puzzledly as it came inboard. It contained no fish but was filled with great gaping holes here and there.
"Not a scale," he announced, disgustedly. "Did you fellows get anything?"
"Nothing but a lot of holes," said Captain Westfield.
"I've got a lot of the queerest looking fish I ever saw," Walter exclaimed. "Row over and take a look at them. One of them bit me. Gee! but it hurts!"
A few strokes of his oars brought Charley alongside and he peeped over into his chum's skiff.
A score of big, eel-like, repulsive-looking creatures squirmed in the bottom.
One glance and Charley, chucking his anchor aboard Walter's skiff, sprang into it.
"Quick, show me where it bit you!" he cried.
Walter held out a hand in the palm of which a tiny puncture oozed out occasional drops of blood.
Charley whipped out a cord from his pocket, bound it loosely around the wrist of the wounded hand and thrusting an oarlock in the slack twisted it around until the cord dented into the flesh. "Now, stick your hand over into the water and keep it there," he commanded.
Seizing an oar, he gingerly ladled the repulsive-looking creature out of the skiff.
"Whew! My arm aches clear up to the shoulder!" Walter exclaimed. "What were those nasty-looking fish, anyway?"
"Morays, a kind of salt water eel," said his chum, gravely. "I don't want to frighten you, dear old chum, but those things are poisonous, almost as poisonous as a snake."
Walter received the startling information coolly. "I suspected they were poisonous as soon as my arm began to ache," he said, quietly. "Will I lose my hand do you think?"
"I guess not," lied Charley, cheerfully. He could not bear to tell him that he was likely to lose his life as well as his hand.
Calling the captain to follow, the lad rowed the two skiffs to the launch, made them fast, and helped his chum aboard. As soon as the captain fastened on, he started the engine and headed the launch back for the dock. He was thankful that they had not come far from home, for, short as the distance was, before they reached the little pier, Walter's arm had swollen to twice its natural size and he had fallen into a kind of listless stupor. The captain and Charley helped him tenderly out of the launch and supported him up to the cabin where they laid him out on his couch.
Charley looked about in helpless despair. "If I only had some of that aguardiente, now, there would be a good chance to save him," he said, bitterly. "I don't think there was time for much of that poison to get into his circulation before I got the cord around his wrist and shut it off. Well, it isn't much use, but we will make a fight for it. Chris, heat up some water, quick, and make a big pot of coffee, as strong as you can make it."
The little negro flew to do his bidding and, in a few minutes, Charley had the wounded hand plunged in a bucket of scalding hot water and was forcing cup after cup of strong, steaming coffee down his chum's throat.
"Wehave got to get a doctor just as quick as we can," Charley declared. "I wish you could go, Captain. I would rather be with him and do what little I can for him. I'm afraid he will not last till you can get a doctor over here."
"But I do not know how to run the launch," the old sailor reminded him.
"That is so, I will have to go," agreed the lad. "Well, I guess, you can do as much for him as I could. Keep his hand in hot water all the time and keep forcing the coffee down him every few minutes. I'll be back as quick as I can."
Seizing his hat Charley started for the dock on a run.
In a few minutes he was back, consternation on his face.
"Something's broke about the engine," he cried, "I can't start it up and I can't see to fix it in the dark. You'll have to go over in one of the skiffs, Captain. You will make better time than I could for you row better."
The old sailor was out and gone almost before he finished speaking, and in a minute Charley could hear the quick stroke of oars coming from the water.
"Do you think Massa Walt's goin' to die, Massa Chas?" Chris inquired in an awed whisper as they watched the stupefied lad.
"I am afraid so, Chris," Charley said, sadly. "Some of that awful poison has got into his blood. It checks the heart action. That is what I am giving the coffee for. It stimulates the heart and makes it work faster. But it is not powerful enough to overcome the deadening effect of the poison. It needs a powerful heart stimulant to do that. Whiskey would do fairly well. Oh! how I wish I had a couple of bottles of that aguardiente now!"
He lapsed into silence and sat sorrowfully watching his stricken chum, while Chris crouched at his side, deepest grief on his little ebony face.
Suddenly there came a sharp rap at the door, and Charley sprang to his feet.
"It can't be the doctor so quick," he said. "Come in," he called out.
There was no answer to his invitation and stepping to the door he flung it open.
Nothing but blank darkness greeted his searching eyes.
He stepped outside and looked around but thedarkness was so dense he could not see twenty feet from the cabin.
Puzzled, he was turning back into the cabin when his foot came into contact with something on the step. He picked the object up and bore it to the light.
One glance and he gave a shout of joy. "Aguardiente, Chris," he cried. "May the Lord bless whoever put it there."
He seized a cup and pouring it half full of the fiery liquor forced it down his chum's throat.
He allowed a half hour to pass by, then administered another dose.
At times he fancied he could trace a slight return of color in his chum's pale face but, if any, it was so slight that he could not be certain.
At the end of an hour he gave a third stiff dose of the powerful stimulant.
"I wish the captain would get here with the doctor," he said, anxiously. "I can't see as he is improving any. I fancy most that stuff is doing is to help keep him from slipping away from us."
"Dat's de captain, now," Chris said, joyfully, as there came a brisk rap at the door.
It was not the captain but a young, athletic-looking man bearing a small, black, leather case.
"I am the doctor," he announced. "How is the boy? Still alive?"
"Yes, he is still living," said Charley, in relief,"but I don't think he will last much longer unless you can help him."
"What have you done for him?" the doctor inquired, as he knelt by the stricken lad and felt his pulse.
Charley told him briefly.
"Very good," the doctor commented. "Probably he would have died before now but for those aids. He is pretty far gone but maybe we can pull him around."
He laid off his coat and went to work. From his case he produced a hypodermic syringe and a box of tablets. "Some warm water and a spoon," he requested.
Chris was instantly at his side with the required articles.
He filled the spoon with warm water and dropped one of the tablets into it. It colored the water a beautiful scarlet.
"Permanganate of potash," he explained. "You fishermen ought to keep some always by you. It's invaluable in cases of snake-bites or other poisonous wounds."
He filled his syringe from the spoon and baring Walter's arm injected it into a vein.
"I expect your warm water treatment has drawn most of the poison from the wound, but we had better be on the safe side," he observed.
He partly filled a basin with warm water anddissolved another of the tablets in it. Then, with his keen, surgeon's lancet, he cut open the flesh around the puncture, washed it out thoroughly with the solution, and then bound it up in soft, white gauze.
"That is all we can do, now, but watch," he observed, when he had finished.
He sat down with Walter's wrist in his hand and waited the effect of the treatment.
"He is responding to the injection nobly," he said at last. "His pulse is getting quicker and his skin is becoming moist. Evidently there is not as much poison in the blood as I feared. Your prompt action has undoubtedly saved his life."
In half an hour he gave another injection and watched the result with satisfaction.
"Your friend is going to come out all right," he declared, cheerily.
A wave of relief swept over Charley. "We can never fully pay you for what you have done," he said, with a lump in his throat. "Money can never square the debt."
"That's all right," said the young doctor, heartily. "It's a matter of more than mere pay to most of us doctors when we are able to save a valuable life. I can do no more for your friend at present, but I'll leave some tablets with you to give him from time to time. I think the danger is over, although he will be a pretty sick boy for a couple ofdays from the reaction of the liquor and drugs he has taken, as well as from the poison itself, but with good nursing, he will pull through all right."
Counting out some tiny tablets, he gave them to Charley, seized his hat and case, and with a cheery "good night" opened the door and disappeared in the darkness.
He had been gone a full five minutes before Charley recalled that in his anxiety for his chum he had forgotten to ask his name or the amount of his bill.
"Not very polite, but the captain will find that out," he consoled himself. "I wonder why the captain did not come up with him. I suppose the dear old chap could not bear the sight of Walter's lying so death-like. Chris, make up some more good, strong coffee and cook some breakfast. The captain's going to be all worn out when he gets back."
Daylight was near at hand and with it came the old sailor, looking pale, worn and haggard in the morning light.
"Is Walter dead?" he greeted, in a trembling, anxious voice.
Charley laughed in sheer joyousness. "Dead nothing," he exulted. "He's getting better every minute. Why, didn't the doctor tell you that?"
"I couldn't find the doctor," said the old sailor, in relief. "There was none in Clearwater. I gotup the telegraph agent and got him to telegraph to Tarpon Springs for one. He'll come on the noon train. It was the best I could do. I waited to hear from the telegram, that's what's kept me so long."
Charley stared at him. "Do you mean that you did not bring over the doctor that was here?"
"Are you crazy or am I?" demanded the old sailor. "What do you mean?"
"There was a doctor came about an hour after you left," said Charley, slowly. "He staid at least two hours. He gave Walter medicine which has pulled him through. He only left about an hour ago."
It was the captain's turn to stare. "I'll be jiggered," he said in awe, "and I saw no motor boat going or coming. Who was he, and how in the world did he know we needed him?"
Charley shook his head. "I'll give it up," he said. "However, he'll be back again and will solve the mystery."
But the doctor did not reappear. However, the noon train brought a physician from Tarpon Springs. Charley, who, by daylight, had easily found and repaired the engine break, went over in the launch and got him.
The new doctor was visibly annoyed when he examined Walter. "I do not understand why I was called on this case," he said, shortly. "The boy is out of all danger. He has had skilful treatment,most skilful treatment. I would not have come had I known there was already a doctor in charge."
Charley explained the circumstances.
"Your description fits, perfectly, Doctor Thompson of Tarpon Springs," the new doctor observed. "Did he have a finger missing on the left hand?"
"He did, the second finger," said Charley, recalling the circumstance.
The doctor studied the lad's face closely, started to speak, but checked himself.
He was silent during all the trip back to Clearwater but after he got out of the launch he turned and faced Charley.
"Young man," he said, coldly, "I do not know what your object was in telling me that string of lies, but I want to impress upon you that you have not deceived me."
Charley stared at him in hurt astonishment.
"Doctor Thompson dined with me last night," said the physician, icily. "We sat together after and talked in my study until one o'clock. At two o'clock, you say, he was at your camp, an impossible thing for Tarpon Springs is twenty miles away."
With a curt nod he turned and strode up the dock leaving behind him an offended, astonished, mystified boy.
Allthe way back to the island, Charley pondered over the mystifying occurrence.
"I don't understand it, I don't understand it at all," he said to Captain Westfield whom he found sitting beside Walter who was still sleeping soundly. "There is some mystery about this island that puzzles me. If this sort of thing goes on I'll be converted to Chris' belief in spirits. One unexplainable thing after another happening so frequently is enough to make one lose his wits."
"I wouldn't worry my head about it," said the old sailor, placidly. "The mysterious happenings have all been for our own good. Take this last one. Walter would surely have died but for that liquor and the doctor. I don't fear the kind of people or spirits that do that kind of thing. It's the mean, sly tricks of those fishermen that's bothering me. I cannot help but worry as to what they will do next. Just how do we stand now, do you calculate, lad?"
Charley figured rapidly. "Our two nights' fishing makes one hundred and eighty dollars comingto us. I guess our grocery bills amount to about thirty dollars, it will cost forty-five dollars to replace the skiff, that ruined net means fifty dollars more, and repainting the launch will cost twenty dollars more. Our other three nets are as good as new. That brings our total expenses up to one hundred and forty dollars, leaving a balance of forty dollars to our credit."
"I wish it were a little more," said the captain, wistfully. "If it was twenty dollars apiece, I would vote right now for giving up this fishing business. I've got a feeling that those fishermen are going to do us bad yet. They have pretty near succeeded a couple of times already. Next time we may not be lucky enough to escape. Bill Roberts' scheme might work all right, but it will take time and there's no telling what they may do to us while we are waiting."
"I hate to give up," Charley replied, "but I guess it is the wisest thing to do; so far, they have only injured our property, but there is no telling how soon they will do some one of us bodily injury, they are getting desperate. This accident to Walt has made me see things in a different light. I would never forgive myself if one of you should be badly injured by those scoundrels as a result of my being stubborn and refusing to quit. If it were only myself it would be different, but, I do not want to drag the rest of you into the trouble.Walt's close shave has taken all the fighting spirit out of me. I agree with you that we had better quit. But we cannot strike out again with only forty dollars between us. It will be several days anyway before Walt is able to travel and we might as well put in as much of the time as we can fishing. We can notify those fishermen that we are going to leave soon and perhaps they will let up on their persecutions."
"Where had we better go from here?" speculated the old sailor.
"Back to the East Coast, I guess," answered Charley, wearily. "It's pineapple season and we will be able to get work in the plantations, I guess. They only pay a dollar and a half per day and the work is very hard. But this is the dull season in Florida now and we can't do better. I don't know as it much matters what we do," he concluded, bitterly. "We seem doomed to fail in all our undertakings."
"Get that idea out of your head, lad," said the old sailor, gently. "If one lacks confidence, he will never succeed. You are tired out and your nerves are all unstrung from worry and loss of sleep. Go take a walk on the beach and a dip in the surf then come back and catch a nap and things will look brighter."
His eyes followed Charley's departing form with pitying fondness.
"Poor lad," he sighed, "he hates to give up, and he is thoroughly discouraged. It isn't often he gets that way though the good Lord knows he has but little to keep him bright and cheerful. No father, no mother, and his whole young life a constant battle against hardships and disappointments."
When Charley returned his gloominess had vanquished. "Nothing like good salt air and a long swim to get the best of the blues, Captain," he announced, cheerfully. "I feel fit to do battle with the world again now. How's the boy coming on?"
"Fine," the captain declared. "I'm expecting him to wake up hungry."
"I'll be fixed for him, sho'," declared Chris, eagerly. "Dis has been de longest day for dis nigger, he jus' seemed to be in the way an' ob no account, so he's jus' been fixing up to feed you-all, dat does all de work, jus' de best he kin. Golly I got a supper dat will satisfy Massa Walt all right. I got fresh fish fried nice and brown, big fat oysters from off de rocks roasted in dere own juice, scallops chopped up fine and made inter meat balls, nice fresh corn bread an' plenty of coffee."
"It would kill Walt to eat all that," laughed Charley. "Make up a little oyster soup and we will give him that when he wakes up. Your feast will not be wasted," he said hastily, as he saw the little negro's look of disappointment. "You wantto remember that the captain and I haven't eaten since yesterday."
"Dat's so," agreed Chris, brightening. "Hit's all ready when you is."
He had little cause for complaint for when the two had finished there was little but crumbs left of the delicious meal.
"Now I am ready to sleep," Charley announced, with a sigh of content.
Walt was resting so easily that both Charley and the captain stretched out on their couches leaving Chris to watch and to call one of them to take his place when he became sleepy.
The captain relaxed his tired muscles with a sigh of relief.
"There's one thing that's been puzzling me a little, Charley," he observed, as he settled into a comfortable position. "How did it happen that Walt caught all those critters while you and I got nothing but holes."
"I hadn't thought of that," admitted Charley, thoughtfully. "It is kind of queer; something jumped up, fish all bore down on one net, but, while that would account for Walt getting them all in his net, it does not explain all the holes in ours."
It was a trifling circumstance but he puzzled over it a long time after his companion had fallen asleep.
The sun was shining brightly when the two awoke for Chris, with unselfish kindness, hadwatched the night through rather than disturb them.
They found Walter awake and greatly improved, the swelling in his arm and hand was subsiding rapidly. He was very weak and was shaky from the effects of the drugs and liquor but that would soon wear off.
They were hardly dressed when the Roberts arrived in their launch. They had heard of Walter's accident in Clearwater and had come over to inquire after him and offer any assistance they could give.
"Too bad," said Bill, regretfully, when the captain told him of their newly-formed resolve to leave the Island. "We Roberts are sorry to lose you folks. I wish you could stick it out, but, of course, you know your own business best. We will not only miss you but we hate to see that Hunter gang win another underhand victory. With you gone they will take up their old trade of smuggling in booze and making beasts of their fellow fishermen."
"It is too bad," the old sailor agreed, "but it is best for us to go before they do us any more harm. We have more coming to us than we owe now, but if they got to us with many more of their tricks, we would be behind with the fish house and then of course we could not go."
"Well," Bill Roberts offered, as they were leaving,"if you are going out fishing to-night I'll come over and stay with the boy."
Our friends accepted his offer gratefully, for they had been loath to think of leaving their chum alone with Chris, only. It was true he was doing finely but there might come a change for the worse and the little negro would be helpless to get word to them.
True to his promise, Bill appeared before sundown and they were free for another hunt for the finny prizes.
They were not long in coming upon a promising-looking school of fish which Charley decided to run.
Walter's absence made a slight difference in the mode of making the circle, but they got around most of the bunch in good shape.
"I believe we are going to make a good haul," Charley declared, with satisfaction, as they rested after drumming up. "There's a lot of fish in the circle and they seem to be hitting the net good."
But his hopes gave way to dismay as he pulled in yard after yard of his net without getting a fish. Instead the net seemed riddled with a multitude of holes.
"Get anything, Captain," he paused to shout.
"Nothing but holes," said the old sailor, disgustedly. "Got a hundred of them."
"Queer," Charley muttered. He gathered upsome of the loose webbing in either hand and pulled gently. The tested part broke as easily as a spider's web. Every few yards for the entire length of the net he repeated the operation. The result was always the same. He finished picking up and, sitting down, waited dejectedly for the old sailor.
"We might as well go home," he said wearily, as the captain pulled alongside. "My net is rotten from end to end. It would not hold a minnow."
"Mine is in the same fix," his companion agreed, sadly. "Now, we are in a bad fix. One hundred dollars' worth more nets to be charged up against us, and nothing to fish with."
"We are in a bad fix," Charley agreed. "I don't understand it. Those were both new nets, and of the highest grade of twine. They should have lasted for at least three months and here they are gone after only a few nights' fishing. There is something wrong somewhere. Well, come on, let's go home. There is nothing to be gained trying to fish with these nets, they will not hold anything."
The trip back to camp was made in silence; they were too utterly discouraged for speech.
They found Walter sleeping peacefully and Bill Roberts sitting by his couch reading by the light of a lantern.
The big fishermen listened in wondering sympathy to the recital of their experiences.
"Those nets should have lasted at least three months," he declared, confirming Charley's statement. "They are good nets. Mr. Daniels is a square fish boss and does not give his fishermen anything but the best. Let's see if we can find out what has happened to them. That will not make them strong again, but it will be of some little satisfaction."
"Thereare several things that can happen to a net to make it rot quickly," Bill said. "Little things that a greenhorn might not think of any consequence. Now, first, have you run into any big bunches of gilly fish?"
"No," Charley answered, "we have been lucky in that respect. I know why you ask the question. The slime from them catches in the knots of the meshes and unless well washed out will hasten their decay."
"Correct," agreed Bill. "Then it is not gilly fish that done that damage. Next, have you been hauling your nets out to dry as soon as you got in, mornings."
"Yes, they have been on the racks drying before the sun got up good. I've fished enough to know that a hot sun on a wet, heaped-up net will cause the twine to heat and rot quickly."
"Well, that does away with another possibility," Bill said. "One of the most frequent causes of net trouble lies with the liming of them."
"Yes, I know," the lad agreed. "Some mix the lime with water in their skiffs and throw it on the nets before it has time to slack thoroughly and it then burns up the twine. But that isn't the trouble. I was careful about that. I fixed up a barrel on the dock before we started in to fish. And every night before we started out I would put in a bucket of lime and fill the barrel up with water. Our nets were limed in the morning from that barrel. At least, I am pretty sure they were. I told Chris to do it. He has tended to the nets."
"Sho', I always used dat water in de barrel," agreed the little darkey. "Only trouble was dat dar wasn't ebber enough ob it to dose all three nets good. By de time I got your's and de captain's fixed good, I'd have to put in more water to hab enough for Massa Walt's net."
"There is your trouble right in that lime barrel," said Bill, with certainty. "It was always weakened down for Walter's net, and you say his net is all right yet."
But Charley protested. "I never made the mixture strong enough to do any harm in the first place."
"I'm going to take a look," announced Bill, picking up the lantern. "Everything points to that lime water and it must be it."
The three followed in his wake as he led the way down to the dock.
He examined the nets first. "Gee," he exclaimed, "I should say they were rotten. Let's have a look at Walter's."
He stepped over to the rack where hung the lad's net and tested several meshes. "It is not as bad as those others," he announced. "Still it is getting pretty weak, I don't believe it would last out if a good school of fish struck it. Now let's look into that lime-water barrel."
He plunged his arm down in the partly-filled barrel and felt the water tentatively.
"Where do you keep your barrel of lime?" he asked, as he straightened up.
"Right there on shore under that palm tree," Charley pointed out. "Want to look at the lime?"
"No," said the big fisherman, absently, "I've seen enough."
He led the way back to the cabin in silence.
"Well, what do you make of it?" Charley asked when they were seated once more inside.
"I'm sure sorry for you, fellows," blurted out the big fisherman, impulsively. "You've been played as mean a low-down trick as was ever played on anyone."
"How?" demanded the captain and Charley together.
"Someone has mixed potash in with the lime in your lime barrel, and it's just eaten the life out of your twine. It has been done to fishermen morethan once around here and by that same gang of rascals. It never occurred to me that it had been done to your net, though, till I felt of that water. Lime water should feel harsh and gritty, but that felt oily and soapy and I knew then what the trouble was.
"I wish I could help you out," he said, feelingly, noting the utter discouragement in the three faces. "I would gladly lend you nets if we had any but our old ones are all fished out and we have only three new ones ordered. It was so near the end of the season we did not order any extra ones."
"We are mighty grateful to you anyway," Captain Westfield said. "You mustn't mind if we ain't very pleasant company just now. This last business has put us in a bad fix and we have got to study some way out of it."
"I know," agreed Bill, sympathetically, "and as I can't do any good here now, I'll run over to camp and turn in. I've got to go over to Clearwater in the morning to tend to a little pressing business. Anything I can get you there?"
"No," Charley said, thanking him, "we have got to go over ourselves to-morrow and tell Mr. Daniels about the nets."
When the kindly-hearted fisherman was gone, the three sat long debating gloomily what they should do but arriving at no decision. "We might as well turn in," said Captain Westfield at last."Thar's only one thing I can see clearly. We must go to Mr. Daniels to-morrow, like men, and tell him about our loss. If he can give us any work to do, we must take it and work until we have paid him every cent we owe, if it takes a year to do it."
His two companions heartily agreed to this statement. It was clearly the only honest course to take.
It was late when they at last got to sleep, and consequently late when they awoke.
As soon as they had breakfasted, Charley and the captain started for Clearwater, leaving Chris to look after Walter's wants.
On the Clearwater dock they found Bill Roberts and his two brothers.
"I'll keep an eye on your launch until you come back, if both of you want to go up to the fish house," Bill offered, a proposal they gladly accepted.
For a wonder Mr. Daniels was not busy and Charley poured out the story of their losses in a manly, straightforward manner.
"We don't want you to think that we are asking you to take up our quarrels for us," he concluded, flushing. "We simply want to make it plain that we have done the very best we knew how. As we figure it, we owe you now about one hundred and fifty dollars which the prospects do not look very bright for our paying at present. If you haveany work we can do, we will gladly work out the debt. If not, we will have to wait until we can get to earning again. But we will pay you every cent just as soon as we possibly can."
"Don't worry your head about the debt," said Mr. Daniels, heartily. "I am sure you and your companions have done your best and I am truly sorry you have met with so many misfortunes. What you owe the fish house can stand until you are able to pay it. If I owned the business, I would cancel the debt entirely but I am only manager here."
"You are very kind to take it this way," Charley said, gratefully. "I was afraid you might be angry at the failure we have made."
Mr. Daniels smiled. "What you have told me about your troubles is not exactly news to me," he said. "You have good friends in those Roberts boys and they have kept me pretty well posted as to how things were going. I would have got rid of that Hunter gang long ago but they are deeply in debt to the Company and the only chance to get any of it back is to take out a little, each week, from the fish they catch. You see, I have got to consider the Company's interests always above my personal wishes.
"What concerns me most, now," he continued, "is what you and your friends are going to do now that your nets are gone. Bill Roberts was upto tell me this morning that If I would let you have another set of nets he would stand good for them. But I told him that was unnecessary. I would gladly refit you again on my own responsibility if I had nets, but we have not got another one in the house. Have you any plan for the future?"
"No very clear one," Charley admitted. "As you know it's Florida's dull season now. There's very little doing except in the pineapple fields."
Mr. Daniels considered for a few minutes. "I do not like to advise you to do it, because it's dangerous work, but there is one thing you might pick up enough money at to tide you over the dull season."
"What is it?" Captain Westfield demanded, eagerly.
"Hook and line fishing for groupers and grunts out in the gulf. After all, I do not know as it is very dangerous if one keeps close watch of the weather."
"The captain here is a regular weather prophet," Charley asserted. "He can smell bad weather hours before it comes."
"That's a valuable gift for that kind of work," Mr. Daniels replied. "The grouper banks lay out in the gulf from eight to eleven miles from shore, and it wouldn't do for a small boat to be caught out there in a heavy squall. The more I think of it, the more I think it would be a good thing foryou. You can keep right on using the launch, and the hooks and lines you need will cost but little. Of course, there is no big fortune in it but you had ought to make more than wages. Very likely, you could earn enough to pull out of the hole."
"I reckon we'd better try it," said Captain Westfield. "I've done a lot of hook and line fishing in my time."
"We can start to-morrow," Charley agreed, promptly, his spirits rising at the possibility of a way out of their difficulties.
"Very well," agreed Mr. Daniels. "I'll give you a note to the store-keeper to let you have the lines and tackles, as well as what more groceries you need."
"I would feel quite hopeful," said Charley, as he thanked the kind-hearted manager, "if I did not fear that Hunter would find some way of still further injuring us."
"Silas Hunter will not bother you for a couple of weeks, anyway," Mr. Daniels assured him. "They took him and a couple of his cronies to the Tampa hospital on this morning's train."
"Sick?" Captain Westfield inquired, with great relief.
"You might call it that," Mr. Daniels smiled. "Bill Roberts got so mad over what he had done to you boys that he came over this morning and gave him a licking he'll not forget in a hurry.Some of the gang tried to interfere and Bill's brothers gave them a dose of the same medicine. Those boys are good friends of yours, and they are friends worth having."
"Will not Hunter have them arrested?" inquired Charley, in fear for his zealous friends.
Mr. Daniels' smile broadened. "I think not," he said. "Bill warned him if he did, he would repeat the operation over again."
"Weare grateful for what you did in our behalf," said Charley, when they again came upon the Roberts on the dock. "We did not expect you to take up our troubles but we cannot find words to express our gratitude for what you have done for us."
Big Bill blushed like a school girl. "We didn't do much," he said, awkwardly. "I was going to do it anyway, sometime. It just came off a little sooner than I expected. I don't fancy fighting much—it's poor business—but it's the only way to handle fellows like that Hunter gang—a decent man can't stoop to meet them with their own tricks."
"It is a rather primitive way of righting wrongs, but I was not thinking of that," said Charley, earnestly. "I was thinking of the loyal friendship, and the kindly feeling you had for us that prompted the act. It was a big, friendly action, all the more so as we are almost strangers to you."
"That's all right," stammered Bill, embarrassedby his thanks. "I guess I beat Hunter up more than I intended to. He drew a knife on me so I couldn't handle him very gently. What did the fish boss have to say?" he inquired, eager to change the subject.
The captain told him of the new plan that Mr. Daniels had suggested.
"Mr. Daniels is a mighty square man," said Bill, emphatically. "I am glad you are going to follow his advice. We are thinking some of trying the reef fishing, too, until our nets come, so we will likely see a good deal of each other."
"The more the pleasanter for us at any rate," declared the old sailor. "Well, I guess we must be going. Chris will be wondering what has happened to us. Good-by. Drop in on us when you get the chance."
The trip back to the island was made with lighter hearts than they had brought with them, and they were made still lighter at the sight of Walter's improved condition. He was sitting up in bed arguing warmly with Chris that he was well enough to get up and dress, but the little negro had hidden his clothes and could not be moved by threats or entreaties.
"No, Massa Walt," Chris was saying as they entered. "You got to jis' lay quiet. I'se had a terrible time aworryin' an' anursin' you an' I ain't goin' to risk youah getting sick on my hands againthrough youah foolishness. Golly, I doan know what you white chilluns would do widout dis nigger to watch out foah you-alls."
So much was Walter improved, that Charley thought it safe to tell him of all that had happened since his accident.
"I am almost glad the nets are gone," he declared, when Charley had finished. "I don't believe I would ever have made a good net fisherman. I could never have grown to like the work."
Chris' joy was almost pathetic to see. "I'se sho' going wid you-alls," he cried. "Dis nigger can sho' catch fish with a hook. An' I sho' is glad I doan hab to stay alone on dis ole creepy island at night, no more."
And, indeed, perhaps, the part the little negro had so far taken had been as hard and unpleasant as any of theirs.
The evening that followed was by far the pleasantest they had spent on the island. Fear of the fishermen was over for the present at least. Walter's recovery was another cause for rejoicing, and they all looked forward to their morrow's work with a pleasurable anticipation that none had felt for the hard, nasty, trying net fishing.
So eager was Chris to begin, that he was up long before daybreak cooking breakfast and putting up a hearty lunch for their dinner.
The sun was just coming up as they steered outof the inlet into the open gulf. Walter had insisted upon coming with them and lay on one of the seats looking somewhat thin and pale but drawing in increased strength from every breath of the bracing, salt air.
The captain was in full command, for, when it was a matter of sea work, Charley quickly gave way to the old, experienced sailor. While they bounded over the blue sparkling waves for the line of coral reefs he brought out the hooks, lines, and heavy sinkers they had purchased and rigged up the tackle for their fishing. It was simple. Just strong braided lines fifty feet long with a heavy lead on one end. Above the lead, he attached three very short lines a couple of feet apart, tying a hook on each.
As soon as he decided that they were nearing the reef he ordered the engine slowed down and cast a line over the stern.
"It's too deep to see when we get on the reef," he explained, "so we will have to feel for it. That lead on the line pulls along smooth over the sandy bottom but when it strikes the coral lumps on the reef it will begin to jerk." He sat with hand on the line until a series of quick, jumping tremors told him they were over the reef when he ordered the anchor lowered.
With eagerness the little party baited the hooks and cast their lines over. They waited breathlessfor the tugging which would announce a bite, but as the minutes dragged away without a nibble, their high spirits began to lower.
"Golly, I could do better than this on the island," grumbled Chris, as he pulled up his line and examined his bait for the twentieth time.
The old sailor filled and lit his pipe with a twinkle in his eye. "Wait jist one half hour an' they'll begin to bite," he announced, calmly.
"Have you made special arrangements with them," Walter inquired.
"Not quite, but fish have their habits the same as people," the captain explained. "They only bite at certain tides. Seems like they had their regular mealtime as one might say, only they go by tides instead of a clock. It's the last of the ebb tide now. In a few minutes it will be flood tide and the fish will all be hunting their breakfasts."
"But I have caught fish on both ebb and flood tides, captain," Charley objected.
"Yes, an' there are people, too, who are always eating between meals," the old sailor retorted, "but most of them are contented with their regular mealtime."
"Golly! dis nigger often wonders how you keeps track ob dem tides," Chris remarked. "I can't tell nothin' 'bout dem, 'cept when I'se on de shore an' can watch the rise and fall."
"It's simple, lad," explained the old sailor."It's the moon that causes the tides. All one has to do is to notice the moon. When the moon is coming up the tide is going down. When the moon is going down the tide is coming up. No matter where you are it is always the same."
"I've got a bite," Charley announced, and moon and tides were straightway forgotten by the eager little party.
It seemed as though his announcement had been the breakfast bell for the finny creatures below, for before he had got his fish to the surface, his companions were hauling furiously on the lines.
Charley gave a shout of exultation as he swung his prize aboard. It was a chunky, reddish fish with mouth and fins of scarlet, and was about fifteen pounds in weight.
"That's a red grouper," said the captain, sparing a glance from his own captive. "This one I've got is a black grouper. Those flat, silvery fish Chris and Walter have caught are red-mouth grunts." But the old sailor had no time for further speculations for the sport grew fast and furious. Often they pulled up to find three fish on their line at once, one on each hook.
As fast as they unhooked their captives they threw them into the forward cockpit where they soon grew into a beautiful, glistening heap of red, gold and silver hues.
For two hours they pulled the fish aboard asfast as they could bait and cast their hooks. Then, as suddenly as they had begun, the fish ceased to bite.
"We might as well get up anchor and move to another place," the captain announced.
"Has we done catched dem all?" Chris inquired, innocently.
"Hardly," said the old sailor, with a laugh, "but a shark or some other sea monster is prowling around down below and has scared them all away." They weighed anchor and drifted back a couple of hundred feet upon the reef where they found the fish biting there the same as before.
"I'ze got something queer on my line," announced Chris, as he pulled up hand over hand. "Hit don't jerk none. Hit's jest heavy-like."
"A bit of coral, I expect," Charley suggested.
All stared at the curious-looking object as Chris slung it in over the side.
"Why," said Charley, as he scraped off the clinging moss and barnacles. "It's a doll, just a big, rag doll."
"Put it back in the water, lad," said the captain, with a hint of tears in his voice, "put it back. Likely its little mistress sleeps there below the waves. We must not separate her from her dolly."
It was only a guess, but the idea took such strong hold of them all that anchor was again weighed and they dropped further along to another place.
About four o'clock the captain declared it was time to start for home.
"We have done pretty well for one day," he said, "and we have got to get home in time to carry the fish over to Clearwater."
His companions were willing to stop. Although they had enjoyed the sport greatly, their arms were aching from the constant pulling and their hands were sore from numerous pricks from hooks and fins.
An hour's run brought them back to their island. Here Chris stopped off to get supper, and Walt to lie down and rest a bit, while Charley and the captain carried the fish over.
The two were back by the time Chris had supper ready.
"We had twelve hundred pounds of grouper and six hundred pounds of grunts, twenty dollars' worth in all," Charley announced, proudly. "Not bad for our first day's work."
"Why, that's five dollars apiece," said Walter, delightedly. "If we can keep that up we'll make thirty dollars a week for each one of us."
"We can't figure on steady fishing," objected the captain. "That's the worst drawback about this reef fishing. One can only get out in fine weather. Sometimes it blows for a week at a time so that one cannot wet a line."
"Then it's up to us to discover something tomake money at during stormy weather," Charley declared.
It was Chris who hit upon the idea, but the reader will learn about that later.