WAKING UP--GOOD RESOLUTIONS--ALARM--MAROONING BREAKFAST--SEARCH FOR
WATER--UNEXPECTED GAIN--OYSTER BANK--FATE OF A RACCOON--THE PLUME AND
FAN
Shortly after day-light Mary was awaked by feeling Frank put his arm
round her neck. She opened her eyes, and seeing the white canvas
overhead, started in surprise; then the fearful history of the preceding
day rushed into her mind, and her heart beat fast at the recollection.
She put her arm softly round Frank’s neck, drew him near to her, and
kissed him.
"Sister Mary," said he, awaking, "is this you? I thought it was father.
Why, sister--what house is this! O, I remember, it is our tent."
Frank drew a long breath, nestled close to his sister, and laid his head
on her bosom. He seemed to be thinking painfully. After a minute or
two he sprang to his feet, and began to dress. Peeping through the
curtain that divided the two sleeping apartments, he said, "Brother and
cousin Harold are sleeping yet, shall I wake them?"
"No, no," she replied. "They must be very weary after all their hard
work and trouble. Let us just say our own prayers, and go out softly to
look at the boat."
The first thing which greeted their eyes, on coming to the open air, was
Nanny with her kids. The tide had gone down during the night, leaving
the boat aground, and the hungry goat had taken that opportunity to jump
out, with her little ones, and eat some fresh grass and leaves.
Mary’s mind, as housekeeper, turned towards breakfast. She and Frank
renewed the fire, the crackling and roar of which soon roused the
others, who joined them, and then went to the boat to see that all was
safe.
No change had occurred, other than has been noticed, except that the
fulness of the dogs proved that they had fed heartily upon something
during the night; and of course that they had proved unfaithful
sentinels. The sight of the boat made them sad. It told of their
distance from home, and of the dangers through which they had passed.
For some minutes no one broke the silence; yet each knew instinctively
the other’s thoughts. Frank finally came near to Robert, and looking
timidly into his face, said, "Brother, do you not think that father will
send somebody after us?"
"Yes, indeed; if he only knew where to send," Robert replied in a
soothing tone; "and more than that, I think he would come himself."
"I think he _will_ send," said Frank; "for I remember that after he
knelt down by the landing and prayed for us, he turned to the man on
horse-back, and pointed to us; and then the man went back where he came
from as hard as he could gallop."
"Well, buddy," returned Robert, "if father does not come after us, nor
send for us, there is one thing we can do--try to get back to him. So
there now"--he stooped down, and kissed him affectionately. Then he and
Harold walked together on the beach.
During the whole morning, as on the preceding evening, Harold had been
unusually grave and thoughtful. "Robert," he remarked, when they were
beyond the hearing of the others, "I have been trying ever since we rose
to think what we ought to do today; but my mind cannot fix on anything,
except what we said yesterday about being thankful, and trying to do
better. There is no telling how long it will be before we see Bellevue
again, or what dangers we must meet. One thing, however, seems certain,
that we ought to try and act like good Christian people; and that part
of our duty is to have some kind of worship here, as we have been used
to having at your father’s."
Robert assented, but asked, "How can we do it? I am not accustomed to
conduct these things, nor are you."
"We can at least do this," replied Harold, whose mind was so deeply
impressed with a sense of his obligations, that he was neither afraid
nor ashamed of doing his duty. "We can read a chapter, verse about,
morning and evening, and repeat the Lord’s prayer together."
This was so easy, so natural, and so proper, that it was without
hesitation agreed to. Mary and Frank were informed of it, and it was
immediately put into practice. They gathered round the fire; and as the
murmur of their prayer ascended from that solitary beach, the
consciousness that this was _their own_ act of worship, without the
intervention of a minister, who is the priest of the sanctuary, or of a
parent, who is the priest of the household, imparted a deep solemnity to
their tones and feelings.
Scarcely had they risen from their knees, before Nanny and her kids were
seen to run bleating down the bluff, while Mum and Fidelle, having
rapidly ascended at the first alarm, gave signs of more than usual
excitement. The boys hurried up the sandy steep, gun in hand, and looked
in every direction. Nothing was to be seen, but Fidelle’s tail was
dropped with fear, and Mum’s back was bristling with rage.
"What can be the matter with the dogs?" asked Robert.
"I do not know," Harold replied. "But we can soon find out. Here, Mum,
hie on!"
He gave the sign of pursuit, and the two dogs ran together, and began
barking furiously at something in an immense mossy live oak near at
hand. The boys stood under the tree, and scrutinized every branch and
mossy tuft, without discovering anything except a coal black squirrel,
that lay flat upon a forked limb. "You foolish beasts!" exclaimed
Harold, "did you never see a black squirrel before, that you should be
so badly frightened at the sight of one?" then levelling his rifle at
its head, he brought it down. It was very fat, having fed upon the
sweet acorns of the live oak, and appeared also to be young and tender.
Harold took it back to the tent, as an addition to their dinner,
remarking, "It is the sweetest meat of the woods." All admired its
glossy black skin, and Frank begged for the rich bushy tail, that he
might wear it as a plume. This little diversion, though trifling in
itself, exerted a very cheering effect upon the elastic spirits of the
young people, and made them for a time forget their solitude and
comparative helplessness. Had they known the country as well then as
they had occasion to know it afterwards, they would not have felt so
quiet, or have been so easily satisfied, when they saw the signs of
alarm in their brutes.
When they sat down to their simple breakfast, it made Frank laugh to see
how awkward everything appeared. There was no table, and of course
there were no chairs. All sat on their heels, except Mary, who being
the lady was dignified with a seat upon a log, covered with a folded
cloak. It was a regular marooning breakfast.
"I think that our first business this morning is to look for water,"
remarked Harold, while they were sitting together. "The goat seems to
be very thirsty, and, as our jug is half empty, it will not be long
before we shall be thirsty too. But how shall we manage our company?
Shall Mary and Frank continue at the tent, or shall we all go together?"
"O together, by all means," said Mary, speaking quickly. "I do not like
the way those dogs looked before breakfast; they frightened me. There
may not be anything here to hurt us, but if there should be, what could
Frank and I do to help ourselves?"
"Then together let us go," Robert decided. "And Frank, as you have
nothing else to do, we will make you _dipper master_."
They ascended the bluff, and looked in every direction, to ascertain if
possible where they might obtain what they wished; but nowhere could
they discern the first sign or promise of water. Far to the south as
the eye could reach, the country looked dry and sandy. Eastward extended
the river, or arm of the sea, but it appeared to have no current, other
than the daily tides, and its shore gave no indication of being indented
by rivulets, or even by the rains.
"It will put us to great inconvenience if we are not able to obtain
fresh water," remarked Harold. "We shall be compelled to move our
quarters without delay, for our supply cannot last long. However, there
is no such thing as not trying. Which way shall we move?"
"Towards the sea," replied Robert. "There is one fact about a sandy
coast, that perhaps you have had no occasion to know--that _oftentimes
our best water is found on the open beach, just about high-water mark_.
I have heard father explain this fact by saying that rain water is
lighter than that which is salt; and that the rain probably filters
through the sandy soil of the coast, and finds its vent just above the
ordinary surface of the sea. I think, therefore, our best chance for
finding fresh water is on the seashore, in the sand."
They had not proceeded far along the bluff before they heard a loud
rushing in the air, and looking up they saw what Mary and Frank supposed
to be a gang of enormously large buzzards, flying rapidly towards the
forest, and passing very near them. "What can they be!" inquired
Robert, in momentary doubt. "Really, Harold, they are turkeys! wild
turkeys!"
But as he uttered the words "wild turkeys," bang! went Harold’s rifle,
and down fluttered a gobler, with his wing broken. "Here, Mum!" he
shouted; but Mum knew his business too well to need exhortation, for by
the time the bird had scrambled to its legs Mum had seized and held it,
until Harold put an end to its struggles by cutting off its head.
"Here now is a fine dinner," said he, lifting it, "only feel how heavy;
he is rolling fat."
"Yes, indeed," replied Robert; "and that was a quick shot of yours, Mr.
Harold--with a rifle too. I wonder I did not think sooner of shooting;
but in truth I was in doubt what they were, and also astonished at their
number."
"What a lovely fan his tail will make!" exclaimed Mary, examining the
rich stripes of black and brown that marked the end of the feathers.
"We must be sure to carry it home for--," she was going to say "mother
when she comes," but the thought of their forlorn condition came over
her, and she added softly--"if we ever get there."
"Let us leave the turkey, hanging in this tree to bleed, until we
return," said Harold; "we must look for water now."
They returned to the beach, and walked along the smooth hard sands. The
tide, or rather "half tide" (as it is called on that coast), having an
ebb and flow, each of three hours, was nearly down, and they had a full
opportunity for the proposed search.
"There is water somewhere here about, you may be sure," said Harold,
pointing to tracks of the dogs, made during the night, and partly
obliterated by the tide. "Our dogs passed here last night before high
water, and they look as if they had had plenty both to eat and to
drink."
A quarter of a mile’s walk brought them to a place, when Robert called
out, "Here is the water! and here are our dogs’ tracks, all about and in
it. Get out you Mum!--begone Fidelle!" he added, as the dogs trotted
up, intending to drink again. The water was good, and in great
abundance. They quenched their thirst, and were preparing to return for
the bucket to carry home a supply, when Harold suggested to pursue the
tracks of the dogs a little further, and learn what they had obtained to
eat. "I perceive not far off," said he, "what appears to be an oyster
bank, but do dogs eat oysters?"
They proceeded to the spot, and found a large bank of uncommonly fine
oysters. It was an easy task for those who knew how to manage it, to
break the mouth of one with another and to cut the binding muscle with a
pocket-knife. Harold shrunk aghast at the idea of eating an oyster
alive; but Robert’s example was contagious, and the assurance that this
primitive mode of eating them was the most delicious, sufficed to make
every one adopt it. Engaged in selecting some of the finest specimens
to carry back, the others heard Frank call out, in one of his peculiarly
merry exclamations:
"Ohdy! dody! Look here! There is a big, black cat’s foot in this
oyster’s mouth. I wonder if the cat bit off his own foot!"
They hurried to the spot, Mary and Harold laughing at the odd fancy, as
they esteemed it, of a cat biting off its own foot, and saw, not a cat’s
foot indeed, but that of a raccoon, firmly fastened in the oyster’s
mouth.
"What does this mean?" Harold inquired, with wonder.
"Why, Harold," replied Robert, "did you never hear of a raccoon being
caught by an oyster?"
"Never," he answered; "but are you in earnest?"
"Certainly, in earnest as to there being such a report," he replied,
"and this I suppose is proof of its truth. It is said that the raccoon
is very fond of oysters, and that when they open their mouths, at a
certain time of tide, to feed upon the scum of the water, it slips its
paw suddenly between the shells, and snatches out the oyster before it
has time to close. Sometimes, however, the raccoon is not quick enough,
and is consequently caught by the closing shells. Such was probably the
case with this fellow; he came to the bank last night to make a meal of
the oysters, but was held fast until our dogs came up and made a meal of
him."
"But I doubt," said Harold, "whether dogs ever eat raccoons. They will
hunt and worry them as they do cats and other animals, which they never
eat, at least never except in extremity."
"Then I suppose," added Robert, "we must account for this by another
story which is told, that a raccoon, when driven to the necessity, will
actually gnaw off its own foot."
"Really," said Harold, "this is a curiosity. I must take this oyster to
the tent, and examine it more at my leisure."
The young people gathered as many oysters as they could carry in their
hands, and reaching the tent about ten o’clock, began preparing them,
together with their game, for the table. Robert cut off the squirrel’s
tail for Frank; and having drawn out the bone, without breaking the
skin, inserted a tough, slender stick, so that when it was properly
dried, Frank might use it as a plume. The preparation of the turkey’s
tail was undertaken by Harold. He cut off the tail-bone, with the
feathers attached, and having removed every particle of flesh and
cartilage not necessary for keeping the feathers together, he stretched
it like a fan, and spread it in the ran to dry.