THE GATOR HUNTER
Crook-legged, pumpkin-colored, yellow-wooled, green-eyed Sabey—the mightiest turkey hunter on Pon Pon—sat in the midsummer sunshine at his cabin door and talked, partly to himself and partly to his black wife, Bess, who busied herself within. A protracted drought was over the land, and Sabey’s summer harvest was at hand. Hunting turkeys and ducks in the winter, he was equally successful in his summer quest for the much-esteemed fresh water terrapins which abounded in the backwaters and the sluggish lily-covered canals that intersected the abandoned inland ricefields. They found a ready market on the plantations or at the railway station, whence they were shipped to Charleston, to appear on the tables of her discriminating gourmets in the form of highly spiced soups and stews. These big terrapins were frequently offered for sale by negroes who surprised the slow creatures while crossing the road or path on their way from one canal or pond to another, or trapped them in some shallow water hole. A few negroes even hunted them occasionally, the only equipment necessary being an empty crocus bag and a pair of legs—naked or trousered—with bare feet attached. Sneaking as close as possible to the floating log on which the terrapins sunned themselves, the hunter crept up until they became alarmed and slid off into the water, when he jumped in after them, and if the water was not more than three or four feet deep he could usually locate them by feeling about on the bottom near the log with his bare feet, when he would bob his head and hishands under, and the prize would go into the sack hung about his neck. But Sabey followed successfully, not only the ordinary methods of capture, but during dry spells adopted the hazardous expedient of going down into the alligator holes after them. As Prairie dogs, owls and rattlesnakes live together in the same burrows on the Western plains, terrapins are always found in alligator holes with their hosts in dry spells when the water is low, and he who would secure them must either get the alligator out first, or go down into the hole with him—one a difficult, the other a dangerous, adventure.
In the cruel midsummer droughts that sometimes occurred in the low-country, even the wet savannas and backwaters were parched to desert dryness. The muddy bottoms, ordinarily covered with water, even the shallower canals and ditches, sun-baked and cracked open, were abandoned by the life that sometime swam or waded in the waters now receded. Only the deeper places held water, and these roiled with the teeming fish and eels and terrapins that cluttered up the muddy pools. Crane and heron—greater and lesser—flew squawking overhead, or stalked along the marges taking heavy toll of their helpless prey, while in the mud round about countless tracks of otter, mink and raccoon showed that, like lions at the African water holes, these lesser creatures, too, held nightly carnival at the water. Now came the human spoilers—negroes with “jampots” or “churnpots”—cylindrical contrivances about fifteen inches in diameter by thirty inches in height, made of canes tied together with hickory bark thongs, and looking like tall, bottomless waste-baskets. Wading in the shallow waters, the fisherman holds his jampot by the upper rim with bothhands, churning the water in front of him. Apprised by splash or flutter that a fish has been trapped, he reaches one hand into the cage, withdraws his catch, which he bestows in a bag hung about his neck, and “churns” again. When conditions were favorable for this form of fishing, the negroes, in the years immediately following the war, caught not only the coarse mudfish and “cats” which they so affect, but destroyed also countless thousands of trout and bream and other fine food fish. In Sabey’s time, almost every other negro in the well-watered districts owned a jampot, and the making of this was an important side line of the old plantation chair and basket-makers, but, synchronously perhaps with the destruction of the fish, the art, or the practice, of “churning” passed away, and it is seldom heard of now.
Now that a “hebby dry drought” was on, Sabey licked his chaps in pleasant anticipation. No rain was in prospect. The roaring of alligators is regarded by low-country weather sharps as a sign of coming rain, but, although the old bulls had bellowed lustily at dawn on several consecutive mornings, the sun still blazed from a cloudless sky and the heat waves danced and shimmered in the breathless air, giving point to the saw that in a drought all signs fail, which was once strikingly illustrated by an old-time plantation driver, whose master, needing rain, drew comfort from the persistent bellowing of the alligators. “Did you hear those ’gators this morning, Scipio? That should bring rain.”
“Yaas, Maussuh, uh yeddy’um, but dis duh Dry Drought, enty?”
“Yes, a very severe drought.”
“Berry well, suh. Enty you know, Maussuh, suh Dry Drought duh him own maussuh, en’ him ent ’f’aid alligettuh? En’, Maussuh, Dry Drought him haa’d-head’ ez de berry Satan! Nobody ent fuh mek’um fuh do nutt’n’! All dem todduh kinduh wedduh dem berry ’f’aid alligettuh. W’en alligettuh belluh fuh rain, dem big Bloodynoun frog dem jine’um, ‘come’yuh rain, come’yuh’ rain, come’yuh rain!’ Den dem po’ leely frog een de tree, dem hab shishuh mo’nful woice, dem biggin fuh cry. Bimeby, rain come. But Dry Drought, him ent stan’ so. W’en Dry Drought come, bullfrog know suh alligettuh cyan’ mek’um fuh wedduh, en’ you yeddy’um holluh ‘’e yent fuh rain, ’e yent fuh rain, ’e yent fuh rain!’ Alligettuh bex. ’E holluh ’gen. Dry Drought suck ’e teet’ at’um. ’Scuse me fuh cuss, Maussuh, but Dry Drought him ent care uhdam’bout alligettuh, uh dunkyuh ef’ ’e holluh ’tell ’e belly bus’!”
So, as the unterrified “Dry Drought” burned about him, Sabey prepared to start his campaign. The waters, long drying up, were now low enough. Many alligators had been forced to move, and the smaller ones were frequently encountered in the road—sometimes even on the high pineland plateaus—as they traveled toward the river or adventured in search of deeper canals or water holes. They always showed fight, too, swelling up like pouter pigeons, standing high off the ground, and hissing like geese, while they watched for a chance to lash out with dangerous tail. But, with the conservatism of age and wealth, the big old fellows seldom moved from their favorite pools on which opened their subterranean holes or burrows, excavated with their forefeet, like those of other burrowing creatures. Here in the deep pools were fish at hand, and nearby were the pig pathsalong which unwary shoats, going to the water, or nosing about in the soft earth for succulent roots, would often come in reach of the sweeping tail, and add to the variety of the big ’gator’s fare. In these deep underground holes, the ugly creatures hibernated from autumn to spring, until, with the earliest warm sunshine, first the nose and eyes would appear cautiously above the water which covered the entrance to the hole, and, growing bolder day by day, as the weather became warmer, next the head, and, at last the entire body would be exposed, lying on the muddy bank, or on a tussock among the rushes. Here, perhaps, he would be descried by some adventurous boy, who, sighting carefully despite his palpitating heart, would shatter the ’gator’s skull with a rifle bullet or reach his heart by a well-aimed charge of buckshot behind the shoulder; but, barring the boy, the days of the big ’gators were long in the land, for they became more wary with advancing years and seldom fell to the negroes’ firearms.
While the drought was yet young, the heaviest alligator in the community had been located by Sabey at the “Half Moon” dam, and now the deep pool into which his hole opened contained all the water that was left in the great savanna. The yawning mouth of the big ’gator hole, ordinarily covered with water, now disclosed a parched throat wide enough to have taken in a barrel. From day to day during the pendency of the drought, Sabey had sneaked up to the pool hoping to surprise the ’gator out of his hole and by a lucky shot get him out of the way and clear the path to the terrapins, but he had not been fortunate enough to see him, although he knew he was there by the tracks andthe impress of his great body in the baked mud that lay between the pool and the entrance to his hole. Even had Sabey found him, he could have slain him only with a close shot in the unprotected region just under the arm, for the negro seldom shoots anything larger than number two shot, which would have glanced harmlessly off the tough scales with which the ’gator was almost completely armored.
Forced to oust the householder, in order to get at his unbidden guests, the terrapin hunter was now turned ’gator hunter. Although almost invariably hunting alone, pulling the smaller ’gators out of their holes with an iron hook and killing them with his axe, the master of the Half Moon pool was too ugly a customer to be so easily disposed of, and, after pondering long, Sabey determined to organize a ’gator hunt for the following day and call to his aid some of the plantation negroes.
On Saturday morning a dozen negroes, men and boys, met Sabey at the Half Moon. They were making holiday and laughed and chaffed in high spirits. A few carried jampots, intending to churn the waters for their favorite mudfish. Others, directed by Sabey, had brought strong plow lines which they had borrowed without leave from “de buckruh’,” and three or four were provided with axes. Besides his musket, Sabey carried on his shoulder a stout seven-foot hickory staff, at one end of which the village blacksmith had attached an iron ring, while at the other he had riveted a strong iron shaft shaped somewhat like a medieval pike—a spear-like point with which to prod and stir up his ’gatorship, and a sharp, though heavy, hook with which to drag him out of his retreat.Although Sabey was the master craftsman of them all in this form of adventure, the two or three old darkeys in the bunch could not refrain from giving advice. “Git een de hole, Sabey, git een de hole,” said old Cato Giles, the plantation foreman. “Tek de plow line en’ tie’um to ’e foot, den we mans kin drag’um out.”
“Duh me gwine een de hole, enty? Hukkuh uh gwine git at da’ alligettuh’ foot bedout git at ’e head fus’? Me fuh pit my head een ’e mout’ w’ile uh duh tie ’e foot, enty? No, suh!”
Cutting a long, supple pole from a nearby thicket, Sabey ran it down the hole in order to determine its underground course and locate its occupant. He knelt at the opening and ran his sapling down carefully, listening for the scraping of the far end against the rough scales of the alligator. The hole, which slanted downward at an angle of 45 degrees, proved to be almost straight, and, when twelve feet of the pole had been shoved in, Sabey heard the grating sound he had been listening for, and knew what work was before him. Withdrawing the pole, he first made fast a double plow line to the ring end of his staff, while he tied another line around one of his ankles and prepared to go down into the hole. “Tek off yo’ shu’t, man,” advised old Cato. “Ef da’ ’gatuh bite you ’e gwine spile’um, en’ no use fuh t’row’way uh shu’t.”
“Yaas, man,” another said, “tek’um off. You kin slip een da’ hole bettuh bedout’um.”
So Sabey cast off shirt and hat, and, with a warning to his companions to pull him out quickly if he should call, went down on his hands and knees and crawled head-foremost into the hole, pushing his billhook before him. Wriggling like a snake, he dragged himselfslowly and cautiously downward, and, about the time he had gone down far enough to leave only his toes sticking out of the mouth of the hole, the sharp point of his staff rattled against the ’gator’s skull as he lay head on toward the entrance. The strong, musky smell of the great saurian would have suffocated one less tough than Sabey, but he paid no attention to it, and prodded with his staff until he had maneuvered the sharp point of his hook under the ’gator’s throat when, with a quick upward jerk, he fastened it in the creature’s lower jaw, and, as a hissing sigh met him in the face, he shouted and kicked his heels at the same time as a signal that he wished to come up. They pulled so lustily that his crooked leg was almost jerked out of its socket, and his head came out, grumbling and scolding, “Oonuh t’ink me duh alligettuh ’long fo’ foot, enty? Wuh me fuh do fuh foot attuh oonuh pull off dem wuh uh got? Oonuh mus’be fool! Oonuh nebbuh pull nigguh outuh alligettuh hole befo’?”
But they were now too excited to quarrel, and, seizing the double plow lines, they began, under Sabey’s direction, to pull slowly on the ’gator. Had Sabey hooked him in a less sensitive part, they could not have budged him. He was too well braced for hanging back, but his throat was comparatively tender, and inch by inch he began to come up, while the negroes shouted and chanted with delight, their excitement increasing as the line shortened and the quarry neared the mouth of the hole, till at last the ugly snout was pushed forward, and then the head, full two feet long, appeared as the fore feet followed, and the ’gator reared up. Frightened, the negroes retreated to the very end of the line. Meanwhile, Sabey had seized his musketand executed a flank movement, and realizing that, as the ’gator’s tail was still underground, there was little danger in a close approach, crept up and, firing when the muzzle of his gun almost touched the ’gator’s side, tore a great hole just behind the shoulder. The negroes shouted with joy, for they realized that the wound was mortal. But ’gators take a long time to die, and they kept pulling, and he kept crawling, until his entire length of nine feet had been drawn out of the hole. Sabey was wary, and insisted on their retaining hold of the staff, which was still hooked in the ’gator’s throat, and he warned his companions of the danger in approaching within reach of the treacherous tail, but after awhile, as the great creature slowly bled to death, several of the younger negroes walked too near, and, while appraising with gastronomic appreciation the great tail, which many of the negroes eat with avidity, it lashed out suddenly. A feeble effort, but with force enough to send the frightened negroes on both sides of him sprawling and rubbing their bruised legs which the ’gator’s sweep, delivered with full force, could have broken like pipe stems.
And now that the Dragon that guarded the treasure had been haled from the dungeon and puthors de combat, Sabey tied a couple of empty sacks, each to a plow line, and essayed a second nose dive into the pit of promise. There is always danger of getting jammed or stuck in exploring a ’gator hole, but Sabey was experienced and cautious, and the hole was large, so down he went, taking the sacks with him, and soon reached the bottom, which had widened into a considerable cavity eighteen feet from the mouth. His exploring hands, feeling in front of him, found a smallpool of water literally alive with terrapins. Having ample room to turn around, Sabey lost no time in filling one of his sacks with terrapins, which, at a jerk of the line, was hauled up out of his way. The second sack held all that remained, and, when this had followed the first, he turned, and, facing upward, decided to go head-foremost, preferring to crawl out like a self-respecting caterpillar, under his own steam, rather than be hauled up by the heels like a slaughtered shoat. But, fearing suffocation in the close quarters underground, he had admonished the men above, who managed the rope attached to his foot, to pull him up quickly at the first jerk, and, as he turned upward, his free leg became entangled with the tied one. In kicking loose, he gave the line a jerk, to which his friends responded so suddenly that they hauled his legs up under him, trussing him into the semblance of a bronze statuette of a squatting Buddha. Sabey yelled with pain and anger, for the hole, while large enough for a man to pass extended, was too close for him doubled up, and Sabey was stuck in the barrel. His muffled cries reached his friends, but they thought them calls for more speed, and the harder they pulled, the tighter they jammed the unhappy wretch.
“Eh, eh! Da’ felluh pullhebby!”
“Yaas, man, Buh Sabey pull hebby sukkuh alligettuh.”
It was old Cato who noticed that they had not budged him an inch. “’Top, oonuh man,’top!” he shouted. “’Ee yent duh moobe. Slack de rope.”
As they stopped pulling, Sabey hauled in the slack, released his legs, and, hauling on the rope hand overhand, was soon at the mouth of the hole, where he lay for several minutes to fill up with fresh air. When, recovered sufficiently to get mad, he rose on all-fours like an alligator, he presented a fearful sight. His yellow wool, his face, and his copper-colored arms and torso were smeared and streaked with black mud, his ragged trousers, water-soaked and muddy, clung to his crooked legs, and he looked like a composite of iguana and ape.
Though ordinarily a taciturn negro, Sabey, under the spur of anger, galloped through his vocabulary of invective at top speed. “Oonuh good fuh nutt’n’ debble’ub’uhno’count nigguh! Oonuh entwut! Uh tell oonuh ’sponsubble fuh haul de rope w’en uh pull’um ’long me han’, uh nebbuh tell oonuh fuh haul’um w’en uh kick’um ’long me foot! Oonuh ent know de diff’unce ’twix’ man’ han’ en’ ’e foot? Ef man tell oonuh fuh tek uh cucklebuhr outuh muleyez, oonuh gwine saa’ch fuhr’um een ’etail, enty? Oonuh mus’be tek me fuh annimel!”
“Ef you ent wash off dem mud en’ t’ing ’fo’ you gone home, Bess gwine tek you fuh cootuh, eeduhso fuh ’ranguhtang, en’ him ent gwi’ leh you fuh gone een him house,” they chaffed.
Sabey washed in the muddy pool, resumed his shirt, tied the two sacks of terrapins together, hung them over the gun barrel at his back, and prepared to shake the mud of the Half Moon off his feet. “W’en uh done sell dese yuh yalluh-belly cootuh en’ gone een me house wid alltwo me han’ full’up wid money, Bess gwine lub me tummuch, ef uhyizlook lukkuh ’ranguhtang. Monkey hab fo’ han’, en’ de mo’res’ han’ man hab, de mo’ ’ooman lub’um! Oonuh black Aff’ikinGuinea nigguh!Oonuh kin nyam da’ alligettuh, en’ w’en oonuhyiznyam’um,oonuh duh cannibel!”