Dinner was cooked and eaten as soon as possible after the return of Ned and Jack to camp, because all three of the boys were eager to make the long-deferred beginning upon the new boat.
"TheRed Birdwas wrecked last Thursday," said Charley, "and now it is Monday, and yet we haven't even begun to get ready to prepare to commence to build."
"Yes we have, Charley," said Jack. "We have worked diligently at the most important part of the task. We have made first-rate arrangements for food, and that is a good beginning. But we'll actually begin on the boat itself to-day. By the way, Ned, you're to be the master-builder."
"Well, I don't know about that," said Ned; "you were bragging the other day about your mechanical skill, and I'm very modest in that direction. I'm actually a clumsy hand with tools."
"No, I didn't brag," said Jack; "I only stated facts. I believe I am a better workman with tools than either of you fellows, and for that reason I'm willing to take the most difficult jobs on myself, but you must be the superintendent."
"I don't see why," said Ned.
"Because, even if you are clumsy with tools, you know more about a boat in a minute than Charley and I do in a year, and it's a good rule to put each fellow at the thing he can do best."
"All right," said Charley; "I'm the best hand you ever saw at sitting on a log and watching you fellows work, so I'll take that for my share."
"No, you won't," said Ned. "If I'm to superintend this job I'll find something better than that for you to do. But I say, Jack, it's absurd for me to try to tell you how to do things that you can do ten times as well as I."
"I don't want you to tell me how to do, but what to do; then we'll all do it. I'll take the most difficult parts, and besides that I'll give you and Charley some hints about how to do your share, perhaps."
"All right," said Ned, "I'll be superintendent if you wish."
"Very well," said Jack. "Now plan the boat, determine the dimensions, and tell us how to begin."
"Well, let me see," said Ned. "TheRed Birdwas twenty-four feet long in the keel—twenty-five feet over all,—and five feet wide amidships. We must allow liberally for waste in trying to use the old materials, so we'll take off six feet of length, giving the new boat a keel of eighteen feet, a total length of nineteen feet, and let the beam width take care of itself."
"How do you mean?"
"Why, we shorten amidships only; that is to say we omit the six or eight ribs that were in the middle of the old boat, and bring the next ribs forward and aft to the middle. Whatever width they give will be the width of the boat amidships. In that way we shall preserve the old proportions, while changing the old dimensions. The new boat will be, in shape, precisely what theRed Birdwould have been if we had cut out six feet of her length amidships, and had then brought the two ends together."
"Yes, I see," said Charley. "What is the first thing to be done?"
"To lay a keel," said Ned. "The old keel is broken, so we must have a new one. Besides, that was double, for a centre-board, and we'll have to build without a centre-board."
"What are the dimensions of the keel?" asked Jack.
"Eighteen feet long, as nearly as we can guess, and about three inches by six or seven."
"To be set on edge?"
"Yes, and to project below the bottom. That will give steadiness to the boat."
"What is the best timber for the keel?" asked Jack.
"White oak, if we had it, but we haven't. The long-leaf yellow pine is very nearly as good, and for our purposes it is really better, because we can work it more easily. There's a fine, small, straight tree trunk just beyond the camp that will suit us precisely. It has been lying for several years apparently, and is well seasoned. We have only to cut it off the right length, split off slabs till we get a rude square, and then hew it down to the right dimensions with the axe and hatchet. That will occupy us for two days at least, so let's get to work."
The event proved that Ned had underestimated the length of time necessary for this work. The hard, flinty yellow pine, seasoned as it was, was very difficult to work. The axe and hatchet were not very sharp at the outset, and before night both were distressingly dull. The next day, what edges they had were worn away, and it was difficult to cut with them at all. Charley declared that he could do nearly as well with his teeth, but he did not try that experiment. There was no grindstone in the camp, and none to be had, of course, and so the weary boys had to make the best of a bad matter and work on as they could with the dull tools.
On Thursday the keel was not yet quite done, and the rice began to show the effects of the boys' appetites.
"I say, fellows," said Charley, "one of us must go for a fresh supply of rice."
"Yes," said Ned, "it is ripening now, and will all fall if we don't secure a good supply. You go, Charley, won't you?"
"Yes. I'm worth less at carpenter's work than either of you, so I'll go. Pull off your trowsers, both of you."
"Why, what's—" began Ned.
"Yes, I know," interrupted Charley, "I ought to take a bag, or a sheet, or, still better, the spring wagon; but seeing that we haven't any wagon, or bag, or sheet, or any thing else to carry rice in, except trowsers, I'm going to use trowsers; and remembering the tattered condition of Jack's skin after his trowserless stroll through the briars, I'm not going to use my own trowsers for a bag. So off with your pantaloons, young men, and be quick about it, for I'm going to make two trips to-day and bring in rice for the whole season."
Laughing, the boys obeyed, and Charley left them at work in their shirts and drawers. He got back to camp at dinner-time, fully loaded. After dinner he made his second trip, saying that he would return about sunset.
Sunset came at its appointed time, but Charley was not so punctual. It grew dark, and still Charley did not appear. Ned and Jack began to grow uneasy. They went out into the woods in rear of their camp and called at the top of their voices, but received no answer.
"I'll tell you what, Ned," said Jack; "we must build a beacon fire. Charley has stayed late to fill his trowser-bags, and has lost his way trying to get back."
It was no sooner said than done. Pitch pine was piled on the fire, and a blaze made that might have been seen for many miles. The boys shouted themselves hoarse too, but got no answer.
After an hour of waiting, Ned said:
"Jack, I'm going over to the rice patch to look for Charley. Something serious must have happened. You stay here and keep up a big fire. If I need you I'll call at the top of my voice, and you will hear me I think."
"But, Ned, it's an awful undertaking to go from here to the rice field on such a night. It's as black as pitch, and you are barefooted and almost naked; let me go."
"I know all that," said Ned, "but it would be cowardly to abandon Charley, and for my life I can't see that you are any better equipped for the journey than I am. You're barefooted too, and as nearly naked as I am."
"Yes, I suppose so," answered Jack, "but I don't mind for myself."
"You stay here, you great big-hearted, generous fellow!" was all that Ned said in reply, as he started away.
Both Jack and Ned knew that the journey thus undertaken would be attended by no little danger as well as sore discomfort and suffering. The deadly moccasin and rattlesnake lurk in the grass and weeds of that coast country, and the unshod boy was in peril of their fangs at every step. He was too brave a boy, however, to shrink from danger when a real duty was to be done, and so he set forth manfully. Taking a stick he struck the ground frequently, as a precaution against the danger of stepping upon any snake that might be in his path, and more than once he heard the venomous creatures hiss angrily before scurrying away.
He pressed forward too eagerly to pay due attention to briars and brushwood, and so before he reached the rice swamp his scanty clothing was nearly torn from his body and his skin was badly lacerated. His coat protected his shoulders and arms, of course, but his legs, hands, and face suffered not a little.
Meantime Jack kept up the beacon fire, suffering scarcely less with anxiety and impatience than Ned suffered from physical hurts. Poor Jack had the hard task of waiting in terror and uncertainty. He imagined all manner of evils that might have happened to Charley; then he became anxious about Ned. He shuddered to think of the dangers through which his companion must be passing. The necessity of inactivity was intolerable; Jack could not sit or stand still. He felt that he should go mad if he did not keep in motion. He paced up and down by the fire, as a caged tiger does. Finally, morbid fancies took possession of him. He imagined that he heard Ned groan in the bushes on his left. Then he seemed to hear a cry of agony from Charley in the woods on his right. Investigation revealed nothing, and Jack returned to his waiting in an agony of suspense.
It was after midnight when Ned returned, torn, bleeding, worn out with exertion, and very lame from a wound in his foot. He had trodden upon some sharp thing, a thorn or sharp spike of wood, which had thrust itself deep into the flesh of his heel, and the wound was now badly inflamed.
"Thank heaven, you are safe at any rate!" exclaimed Jack fervently. "Did you find out any thing about poor Charley?"
"Nothing," answered Ned, returning Jack's warm hand-clasp. "I went to the rice field and found the place where he had been threshing, but no other trace of him. He must have finished threshing, however, and started homeward, as he left no threshed rice there. I could not find a trail in the dark, of course, and I can't imagine what has become of Charley. I called him repeatedly, and went all around the marsh, but it was of no use. Besides, if he were anywhere in that region he would know the way home, for I could see not only the light from this fire but the blaze itself."
"Well, you stay here now and let me go," said Jack, preparing to set out.
"What's the use?" asked Ned. "I tell you I have done all that can be done until daylight. If you go you'll only run the risk of laming yourself, and then there'll be nobody fit to take up the search when morning comes to make it hopeful."
This was so obviously a sensible view of the situation, that Jack was forced, though reluctantly, to remain where he was.
Hour after hour the two boys waited and watched, keeping up the beacon fire, and occasionally investigating sounds which they heard or thought that they heard in the woods and thickets around them. Naturally they talked very little. There was nothing to talk of except Charley's disappearance, and there was little to be said about that.
It began to rain, slowly at first, and in torrents toward morning, but neither boy thought of going into the hut for shelter. Indeed, neither boy seemed conscious of the fact that it was raining at all. They were aware only of the horrible suspense in which they were passing the hours of a night which seemed almost endless.
As the first flush of dawn appeared Ned said: "Jack, we mustn't lose our heads. You know what you said after the wreck. You and I have to look after Charley to-day, and we may have need of all our wits and all our strength; so, for his sake, if not for our own, we must force a full breakfast down our throats. It will steady as well as strengthen us. I don't want any thing to eat, and I suppose you don't, but we must eat for all that. We haven't had a mouthful since noon yesterday, and we'll be fit for no exertion if we go on in this way."
"That is true," answered Jack; "we must eat breakfast."
"Very well; then let's be about it, so that we may have it over by the time that it is fairly light, and then we'll lose no time in setting out."
"You can't leave camp," said Jack; "your foot is awfully swollen and your leg too."
"Yes, I know," answered Ned, "but I am going anyhow. We must find Charley, and maybe both of us will be needed when we do."
While this discussion was going on the breakfast preparations were advancing, and it was not long before the two disconsolate fellows began the difficult task of forcing food down their unwilling throats.
"What is our best plan of operations, Jack?" asked Ned.
"I scarcely know. Perhaps we'd best go round the island, one one way and the other the other, shouting and looking. Then, if either finds Charley and needs assistance the other will of course be there soon afterward."
"Hardly," said Ned. "The island is pretty large, and I suppose it is a good many miles around it. Wouldn't it be better to take a direct course?"
"How?"
"Why, by going first to the rice swamp. There we shall almost certainly be able to find and follow Charley's trail."
"Of course," answered Jack. "What an idiot I was not to think of that first! The fact is, I believe last night's anxiety, particularly while you were away, was too much for me. I lost my head a little, I think, and haven't quite found it again."
"Listen! What's that?" exclaimed Ned, rising to look. As he did so, the bushes near the shore on the left of the camp parted, and——
"Bless me! it's Charley!" shouted both boys in a breath.
"Did you think I had run away with your trowsers?" asked the cause of all their anxieties, throwing down the two pairs of pantaloons stuffed full of wet rice.
"Gracious! Charley, where have you been?"
"We've had an awful night!" exclaimed Ned.
"Do I look as though I had had a particularly pleasant one?" responded Charley. "Do my dress and general appearance indicate that I dined last evening in the mansions of the great and slept upon a bed of down?"
"Well, no," said Ned, unable as yet to share Charley's cheerfulness of mood; "but really, Charley, we have suffered a good deal. You ought to have come back to camp."
"Now, look here, fellows," said Charley, more seriously than he had yet spoken, "if you think I haven't known by instinct how much you would suffer because of my unexplained absence, you do me great injustice. My situation through the night has been none of the pleasantest, but the worst part of it has been what I have suffered thinking of your anxiety. Pray, don't imagine that I'm totally destitute of feeling."
There was a hurt tone in Charley's voice as he said this, to which Ned responded at once.
"Forgive me, Charley," he said, holding out his hand, which the other took. "I did not mean to reproach you wrongfully. I know your warm heart and generous soul."
"Yes," added Jack, "and nothing in the world could have made us so happy as your safe return. But tell us what has happened. Where have you been?"
"Not a word until food is set before me," said Charley, relapsing into his playful mood again. "I am famished."
"All right," said Ned; "we cooked enough to take with us, and we didn't eat much, so your breakfast is ready. In fact I begin to be hungry myself, now that you've got back in safety."
"So do I," said Jack; "let's begin over again, and all breakfast together."
"Now then," said Jack, when breakfast was fairly begun, "tell us all about it, Charley."
"Well," replied Charley, "you know we're Robinson Crusoes."
"Oh! stop your nonsense and tell your story," said Ned, who was wildly impatient to hear of Charley's adventures.
"That's just what I am telling," answered Charley. "As I said, we're Robinson Crusoes and I've seen the savages."
"Whatdoyou mean?" asked Jack.
"Why, Friday, of course, but that's a mistake too. His real name must be Thursday, and he isn't tame either. Really I begin to believe Robinson Crusoe fibbed."
"Have you gone crazy, Charley, or what is the matter?" asked Ned, beginning now to be really alarmed lest his comrade's experience, whatever it had been, had unsettled his mind.
"I never was more rational in my life," replied the boy, with a smile; "but you won't let me tell my story in my own way. Listen now and don't interrupt. You remember how frightened Crusoe was when he discovered the footprint in the sand?"
"Yes, certainly."
"And how he afterward found the savage who made it, and how disturbed he was to learn that he was not really monarch of all he surveyed?
"Yes; well?"
"Well, I've been through a similar experience, only more so. This island is not uninhabited as we supposed. There are savages on it, and they are not tame savages either, like Crusoe's man Friday, but decidedly savage savages. My man Thursday is, at any rate. You see I call him Thursday because I first saw him yesterday, and that was Thursday. That's the way Crusoe hit upon a name for his savage, you remember?"
"Yes, but tell us about it," said Jack.
"Listen, then. You know I went out to the rice patch and brought in one load. Then I went for another, and after I filled the trowsers, I concluded that I'd walk down toward the shore and return by that route. As I went along by the edge of the rice patch about sunset, I saw a footprint, just as Crusoe did, but I didn't study it long, for presently its owner appeared. He was a big savage, and black as night, and not in the least peaceful. Indeed he seemed very angry with me for some reason, for he came running toward me, jabbering in his strange language and setting his dog on me. I ran as fast as I could toward that piece of woods over beyond the rice swamp—more than a mile away from here, you remember, and on the other side of the island. I had a good start, but it was a close shave. As I approached the woods I picked out the tree I meant to climb, and when I got to it I went up faster than I ever climbed before, for the big ugly dog was close behind me. He jumped up after me, but I drew up my leg and he missed the foot he wanted.
"I was tired, and was awfully out of breath; but I thought I had only to wait until the big negro should come up—I could see him coming. Then I would argue the matter with him and get him to be reasonable and call off his dog. You see I took him for a negro, and didn't suspect that he was a savage. I soon found out my mistake, however, for when he came up and began swearing at me—I'm sure it was swearing, though, of course, I couldn't understand a word of it—I found that he talked Savage and didn't understand a word of English.
"I was in a fix. My tree was about a mile and a half from camp, even if you measure the distance in a bee line, so there was no use in shouting for assistance. There stood the raving savage jabbering at me, and threatening me with his club; and, worse still, there stood his dog at the foot of the tree waiting for a dish of Charley Black for supper. I reasoned with the savage, but he didn't understand me any more than I understood him. The more I talked the madder he got. Then I remembered having read somewhere something about the 'eloquent language' of gestures, signs, and all that, which all human beings are supposed to understand, so I tried that awhile. I shrugged my shoulders, waved my hands about, motioned to him to call off his dog and go home, and did other things of the sort; but it wasn't of the least use. That savage persisted in misunderstanding me, and his dog got madder and madder. Finally, just to see if the benighted idiot could understand sign language at all, I put my thumb to my nose and twiddled my fingers at him, at the same time shaking my other fist. He understood that, and took further offence at it. In his rage he tried to climb my tree to get at me, but he was a rather clumsy climber and made little head-way. When he got within reach I struck him a sudden blow with your trowsers, Jack, which, being filled chock full of rice, made a pretty good club. He dropped like a shot squirrel, and his dog, thinking that I had fallen, made a rush for him. For a moment I flattered myself that now I should get away while the savage and the dog were explaining matters to each other; but in that I was disappointed. The dog found out his mistake instantly, and the savage got up, madder than ever. It was getting dark by that time, but the savage thought he would have a game of bat and ball with me while the light lasted, anyhow, so he took good aim and threw his club at me. I caught it a sharp blow with your trowsers, and knocked it back to him. He threw again with the same result. The third throw went wide of the mark, and so I missed, but it didn't matter, for there was no catching out to be done in that game—I suppose the savage don't understand the rules of bat and ball.
"Finally, after he had thrown a good many times, his club lodged in the tree, and I climbed up and got it. It was a good stout club—there it lies by the fire—and I thought I might have use for it, so I didn't throw it back at the savage's head, as I at first intended, but kept it for future use.
"Night came on and the savage seated himself to watch me. He kept very quiet, and made his dog stop growling and snarling. At first I didn't understand this. I began to think that he was going to offer me terms, but he didn't. At last I saw what he was at. He was waiting for me to fall asleep and drop down!
"There was nothing for it but to keep awake, and as it was very cold I had to climb about a little to keep myself comfortable, and that kept me me from falling asleep.
"The worst of it all was that I could see the big fire you fellows made, and knew what anxiety you were suffering. I sat there in the dark, hour after hour, worrying and wondering if the daylight had forgotten to come, and it was an awful time. The rain came on at last, and I was quickly wet through. The savage couldn't sit long on the ground when the floods came, so he got up and moved uneasily about, but he wouldn't go away. His persistence was 'worthy of a better cause.' After a little while he began to collect bushes to make himself a shelter, I suppose, or to sit on, or stand on—I don't know what. It was slow work in the dark, and he had to go away some little distance to get what he wanted. While he was away on one of these little trips an idea occurred to me, but as he was already on his way back I could not act upon it at once, so I sat still and waited. He went away again, fifty or seventy-five yards into the woods—I could tell by the noise he made breaking bushes. Then I tried my plan. Climbing down to the lowest limb of the tree, I could see the dog, dark as it was, standing ready to receive me. Grasping the club in my right hand, I dropped a pair of trowsers full of rice. The dog, mistaking the bundle for me, was on it in an instant, and the next instant I was on him. I dropped on him purposely, and luckily my left foot struck his neck. Of course I could not hold him long in that way, but still it gave me a moment's advantage, and during that moment I managed to deal the brute two or three blows over the head which, I think, must have crushed his skull. At any rate he grew limber under me and never uttered a sound. Hurriedly picking up the trowsers and swinging them around my neck, I was about to run when Mr. Savage came running out of the woods. I still had the club in my hand, and quick as lightning I struck him with it and took to my heels. How badly I hurt him I don't know, but not so badly as could have been wished, for he paused only for a few seconds. Then he gave chase. I ran with all my might, with him just behind. Presently I struck something with my foot—a grape-vine I suppose—and came very near to falling, but managed to save myself. Mr. Savage Thursday was not so lucky. He struck the vine fairly and came down like a big tree trunk. For a second he uttered no sound. Then I could hear him swearing in Savage, but by this time I was fifty yards ahead of him, and by the time that he decided whether to resume the chase or not I was too far away to inquire what his decision was. It was so dark that if he had followed he couldn't have found me, so I slackened my pace, and not long afterward dropped into a walk, listening occasionally to hear if he was coming. Hearing nothing, I plodded on. I didn't know just where I was, so I thought my best plan was to keep straight on until I struck the shore. I passed a group of huts about a mile from my tree, and I suppose the savages live there, as I heard dogs barking, but I didn't stop to inquire. Finally I came to the beach, and, believing that I was more than half way round the island, I turned to the right and followed the shore till I got to camp. There, that's the whole story of the strange adventures of Master Charles Black, of his exploration of Bee Island, his encounter with the savage, and his fortunate escape and return to his companions. How did you hurt your foot, Ned?"
Ned, who had risen and was limping about the fire, explained his mishap, and in their turn he and Jack told Charley of the events of the night as seen from their point of view. Their story was less exciting than Charley's, but he was deeply interested in it.
"Who in the world can Charley's 'savages' be, Ned?" asked Jack, when the story was finished.
"Negro squatters," answered Ned; "I didn't think there were any on Bee Island."
"What do you mean by negro squatters?"
"Why, negroes who, instead of hiring themselves out or renting land, have simply squatted on the island, cultivating little patches, and living by hunting and fishing. There are a good many on plantations that haven't been cultivated since the war. You see, when the war ended there were many men who had large bodies of land—some of them owning half a dozen big plantations—but with very little capital. They have not been able, for want of money, to resume the cultivation of all their abandoned plantations, so there are many large tracts still lying idle and unoccupied, and some of the negroes, not caring to hire as hands, or to rent land, have squatted here and there. They are generally the worst of the negroes; men without thrift, and almost untouched by civilization. They prefer a wild life, and live by fishing, hunting, and stealing from choice."
"But, I say," said Charley, "my savage wasn't a tame negro at all. He couldn't speak English I tell you."
"No more can many others of the old sea-island and rice-field negroes. They talk a jargon which only themselves and the old-time overseers ever understood. The fact is that many of them really were savages before the war,—untamed Guinea savages. They or their parents were brought here from Africa, and they lived all their lives here on these coast plantations, rarely seeing a white person except their overseers, and learning scarcely any thing of civilized life. They were not at all like the negroes up in Aiken, and all over the South for that matter. They were simply savages who had learned to work under an overseer, and when the war ended the worst of them relapsed into the ways of savage life instead of trying to improve themselves as the negroes everywhere else did. They hadn't learned enough to want to be civilized."
"But what did that fellow get after Charley for?"
"Because we've been robbing their rice field without knowing it."
"I didn't think of that. I thought the rice was wild—self-seeded."
"Probably it is," answered Ned, "but they regard it as theirs for all that, just as they think this island is theirs, although it belongs to my uncle."
"Now I know who stole our provisions," said Charley. "But I say, boys, what's to be done? Suppose the savages should attack us here?"
"They may do that," answered Ned, "though I don't think it likely. They want us away; perhaps, but they chiefly want us to let them and their rice alone, and now that we know that it's theirs by some sort of right, we'll let it alone and get on with what we have on hand. The main thing now is to build our boat. We must get on as fast as we can with that."
"That's so," said Jack. "That must be the first thing thought of, but still it seems to me we should do something for our own defence. You see, Ned, if they should attack us, we are helpless. We haven't a thing to defend ourselves with, now that the gun is gone, and it isn't right to trust too much to those people's good-nature."
"Well, what can we do?"
"A good many things; I don't know exactly what will be best as yet, but we must think it out while we work on the boat. Then we can compare notes and do whatever is best. We'll work on the boat until dinner-time, and then give the afternoon to our defences. Perhaps we can make so good a beginning that we needn't spend more than an hour or two each day on that work after to-day."
"All right," said Ned; "now let's get to work on the boat."
With a will the three boys set to work. The stem- and stern-posts of the new boat were securely fastened to the keel, and the difficult task of setting up the ribs was begun. These ribs were so broken that it required not a little planning and contriving to make them answer the purpose; but Jack was very ingenious, and under his direction Ned and Charley managed to do some very clever splicing and bracing, while Jack himself dealt with the most difficult problems.
By mid-day about half the ribs were in their place.
"We can begin to see the shape of our new boat," said Ned, "and I'm not sure she isn't going to be prettier than the oldRed Bird."
"By the way," said Jack, "what are we to name her?"
"The Phœnix," suggested Charley; then he added: "No that won't do, because it isn't a case of rising from ashes. TheRed Birdwasn't burned."
"No," said Ned, "that would be very absurd. Suppose we call her Sea-Gull, because she came to us—in her timbers at least—from the sea."
"Better call her 'axe, hatchet, and hunting-knife,'" said Jack, "because we are making her with those tools. But if we must be poetical and suggestive, why not call her Aphrodite? She, like that fabled goddess, is sprung from the foam of the sea."
"Aphroditeit is," shouted Jack's companions, and Charley added:
"You're the most classical and poetic youth of the party, Jack, if you do pretend to sneer at us for our sentimental fancy for an appropriate name."
"Very well," replied Jack, "you're welcome to think so; but just now I want my dinner worse than any thing else, and that isn't a mere sentiment I assure you."
Dinner over, the preparations for defence were begun.
"What plan have you thought of, Jack?" Charley asked.
"Let me hear from you and Ned first," answered Jack.
"Well, I've thought of earthworks," said Charley; "they say they are the best fortifications."
"Against cannon, yes," said Ned; "but it's only because cannon can't batter them down as they can masonry. Our problem is a very different one, because our savages haven't any cannon. What we have got to do is not to make fortifications that can't be battered down by artillery, but to fence ourselves in in some way so that the negro squatters can't get at us."
"Well, what's your idea for that?" asked Charley.
"A stockade."
"Details?" queried Jack.
"My notion is," answered Ned, "to set a line of stockade around the camp, running it out into the water on each side, making a big 'C' of it. If we make it ten feet high and slope it outward, it will puzzle the squatters to get over it, and from the inside we can beat them off."
"But how shall we make the stockade?" asked Jack.
"Why, by digging a trench first, and setting timbers in it, sloping them at the proper angle, and filling in with earth."
"But couldn't a strong man pull a timber down by jumping up and hanging to it with his hands?" asked Charley.
"Perhaps so, if each timber stood alone," said Ned, "but we'll set a row of them in the ditch, and then roll a log in behind them before filling up. Then we'll set another row and roll in another log, and so on. Then, in order to pull down a post it will be necessary to lift the whole of the log that is behind it, together with all the earth that lies on top of the log, and that is more than any half dozen men can do."
"That's an excellent idea," said Jack, after thinking awhile, "but the job is too big to be completed to-day. We'd better follow my plan first, and make the stockade hereafter."
"What's your plan?"
"To build a sort of wall of timber around the camp. It isn't half so good as a stockade, because of course it is easily climbed over; but it is better than nothing, and will do for one night."
"But I don't see," said Charley, "that we can build a timber wall half so quickly as we can make the stockade. To do it we have got to cut enough logs to make a pile all around the camp, and that will take ten times as many logs as it will to make the stockade."
"That is true," said Jack, "and, besides, small timbers, five or six inches in diameter, will do as well for the stockade as big logs, and in the present state of our axe that is a consideration not to be despised. I surrender. Ned's plan is by odds the best one. Let's get to work at it, and if we don't finish it to-day, we'll patch up the deficiency in some way. Luckily we have digging tools."
The soil of the coast and islands of South Carolina is a light vegetable mould, mixed with sand, and below it there is sand only. There are no rocks, no stones, no pebbles even, and no stiff clay; and all this was greatly in the boys' favor. The trench grew very rapidly as they worked. Jack and Ned dug, while Charley, who was more expert with the axe than either of his companions, cut down small trees and trimmed them into shape for the stockade, making each about fourteen feet long, so that when set in the ditch it would project about ten feet above ground.
The digging of the ditch was the smallest part of the task. Its length, in order to enclose the hut, the well, and the boat, had to be about one hundred and fifty feet, so that a great many sticks of timber were necessary.
"We must set them about six inches apart," said Jack, "so as to use as few as we can at first. If necessary, we can fill in the gaps afterward; but a man can't get through a six-inch crack, and by setting them in that way each post, with its half of the two cracks, will occupy about a foot of space."
But to cut a hundred and fifty pieces of timber with a dull axe was no small job, and when night came on the boys had only twenty-five of them set up in their places, while as many more were ready for use. This was discouraging, and in their weariness Ned and Charley felt very much disheartened indeed. Jack alone kept his spirits up.
"It's very good work so far as it goes," he said, looking at the line of timbers all leaning outward from the camp, "and when we get it done it will puzzle all the squatters in South Carolina to take our fort."
"Yes, if we ever do get it done," said Charley, despondently.
"Now, Charley," said Jack, "none of that. We've been in a tighter place than this, and you especially ought not to be downhearted. You're ever so much better off than you were this time last night, when that darkey had you treed; and you're better off now than Ned is, with his game foot."
"Poor fellow," said Charley, looking at Ned as he limped into the hut with difficulty.
"The fact is," continued Jack, "we're tired out, and so things look blue to us, but they'll look better in the morning. You see we got no sleep last night, besides wearing ourselves out with anxiety and excitement, and we have worked like convicts all day. We'll feel better and brighter after we get some sleep, and things that look gloomy and discouraging now will look bright and hopeful enough to-morrow morning."
"That's true," said Ned, coming out of the hut again, "and it would be much better for us if we could quit work right now, and sleep for ten hours without waking, but we can't."
"Why not?" asked Charley, who was utterly worn out.
"Because we've some more work to do that must be done before we sleep," answered Ned. "What we have done for defence is of no good at all as it stands. We must have a barrier around the camp to-night."
"How shall we make one?" asked Jack.
"With brush. We have plenty of it already cut in the shape of the tree tops we've trimmed off in getting our stockade poles."
"Brush won't make a very good defence," muttered Charley.
"No, but it will be much better than no defence at all," replied Ned. "It isn't easy to climb over a well-packed brush pile, particularly if the brush is so laid that all the branches point outward, and that's the way we'll lay it. It won't take long to make a wall of that kind, and we can remove it little by little, as we set the poles hereafter."
This plan commended itself to Jack, and Charley submitted. Poor fellow, he was too weary to take any active interest even in plans for defence. The brushwood was brought and carefully placed in position. It was not sufficient to make a wall all the way around, but only a small gap was left near the water.
"Shall we cut more brush to-night, Jack?" asked Ned.
"No, I think we needn't. When we go to setting poles to-morrow, the brush we remove will do to close the gap with, and for one night we can watch so small an opening. We need rest and sleep now more than any thing else. You and Charley lie down. I'm the freshest one of the party, I think, and so I'll stand guard for a good while before calling either of you."
"Stand guard?" asked Ned; "what for?"
"Why, it won't do at all for all three to sleep at once. We might be attacked while asleep. If there were no danger of that we needn't have thought of a stockade at all."
Sleepy and tired as Ned and Charley were, they recognized the necessity for this watchfulness. It was very hard for the three weary fellows to take their turns at standing guard that night, but they did their duty. Jack took a long turn first, and Ned followed him, so that Charley got a good sleep of several hours, and was much refreshed before his period of watching began.
The night brought its alarms with it. Every noise in the woods round about startled the alert sentinel, and there always are noises at night, not only in the woods but in houses also, as we all find out, when for any reason we are awake and on the alert. It seemed to each of the boys during this night, that there never were so many sounds which could not be explained: crackling noises, like those which are produced by the breaking of dry sticks under foot; sounds of footsteps, and of hard breathing; a thousand different sounds, in short, each of which seemed for the time being surely to indicate the stealthy approach of some foe.
Morning came at last, however, and no ill had befallen the camp. It was voted at breakfast that this day should be devoted exclusively to fortification, security being deemed of more pressing importance than escape from the island.
By steady persistence the work was carried forward until the line of tall, leaning pickets was more than half-way round the camp. This at least reduced the space to be watched through the night to less than half its former length, and as the night passed quietly with no sign of an enemy about, it was unanimously resolved, the next morning, that Sunday should be kept as a day of rest, the opinion being that the completion of the stockade could not now be called a work of necessity.
During Sunday night, however, the boys had reason to modify this opinion somewhat. About two o'clock Ned, who was on guard at the time, armed with a big club, awoke his companions, saying, in a whisper:
"Get up, quick! There's somebody about."
The two sleepers sprang to their feet quickly, and, seizing their clubs, joined Ned outside the hut.
By way of precaution the boys had cut a considerable number of short, thick, and very heavy clubs, which could be made to serve a good purpose as missiles. Thrown with violence from the hand they were likely to be of much greater service than stones or brickbats would have been, if such things had been at hand. Armed with these clubs the boys peered and listened. For a while they heard nothing. Then a low growl came from the bushes, and the sound of a sharp blow followed it immediately. Evidently one of the squatters was sneaking around the camp, and when his dog growled he struck it to secure silence.
The boys waited a long time but heard nothing more. Finally, in a low whisper, Ned said:
"There can't be more than one of them here."
"No, I suppose not," answered Jack, "but let's be quiet and see what he wants."
All became still again, and as the boys from their hiding-place could not be seen by any one in the bushes, the prowler had every reason to suppose that they were asleep. After perhaps an hour's waiting, Jack whispered:
"I see him; he is crawling on his stomach to the fire. H—sh! let's see what he wants."
The man could be seen only in dim outline until he reached the fire, and, taking a smouldering brand, blew it to quicken its burning. The light thus created revealed his face, and the sight was not a pleasant one to the boys. They saw in their visitor as ugly and forbidding a specimen of untamed humanity as one often meets. He was a negro of the small, ugly, tough-looking variety, seen nowhere in this country except on the South Carolina and Georgia coast. About five feet two inches high, he had a small, flat head, large, muscular arms and body, short legs, and no clothing except a sort of sack with head- and arm-holes in it, worn as a shirt. His brow was so low and retreating, that his eyes seemed to project beyond it. His nose was flattened out as if it had tried to spread itself evenly all over his face. His thick lips were too short to cover his big teeth, and it is hardly necessary to add that he looked far less like a rational human being than like some wild animal.
When he had satisfied himself that his brand was burning, he crept a few paces further, and his purpose was revealed. He meant to set fire to the pile of plank that the boat was to be built of.
"Quick now," said Jack, "give him a volley of clubs and then charge!"