DISAPPOINTMENT--THE LIVE OAK--UNLOADING--FISHING EXCURSION--HAROLD’S
STILL HUNT--DISAGREEABLE MEANS TO AN AGREEABLE END
Before sunrise it was manifest that, without a change in the wind, the
excursion proposed for that day was impossible; a strong breeze was
blowing directly from the east, and brought a ceaseless succession of
mimic billows down the river. Hoping, however, that the wind might
change or moderate, they resolved to employ the interval in transferring
all their articles of value from the boat, to their new home under the
oak. And it was indeed fortunate, as they afterwards had occasion to
know, that they attended to this duty so soon.
The live oak, under which their tent was pitched, was a magnificent
tree. Its trunk was partially decayed from age, and the signs of
similar decay in many of the larger limbs was no doubt the cause of its
being spared in the universal search along this coast for ship timber;
but it was so large, that the four youngsters by joining hands could
barely reach around it. Ten feet above the root, it divided into three
massive branches, which in turn were subdivided into long pendant boughs
extending about sixty feet in every direction, and showing, at their
ends, a strong disposition to sweep the ground. The height of the tree
did not correspond to its breadth. It is characteristic of the live oak
that, after attaining the moderate height of forty or fifty feet, its
growth is directed laterally; the older trees often covering an area of
more than double their height. Every limb was hung so plentifully with
long gray moss, as to give it a strikingly venerable and patriarchal
aspect, and Harold declared he could scarcely look at it without a
disposition to take off his hat.
At noon Harold proposed to Robert that, the wind having ceased, they
should spend the afternoon either in hunting or fishing. "If," said he,
"Mary and Frank will allow us to leave them, I propose the first; if
not, I propose the last, in which all can join."
"O, let us go together, by all means," said Mary. "I do not like to be
left alone in this far off place; something may happen."
"Then let it be fishing," said Harold; "but what shall we use for bait?"
"The old bait that our grandfathers used--shrimp," replied Robert. "I
observed on yesterday a multitude of them in a nook of the creek near
the river. We can first catch some of these with our scoop net, and
then try for whatever may bite. At any rate we can take the offals of
the turkey, and fish for crabs."
However, on ascending the river in their boat, and making the trial,
they found that the shrimp had disappeared, and they were left with only
six or seven caught at a venture.
"This is a dull prospect," said Harold, whose active nature made him
impatient of fishing as an amusement, unless the success was unusually
good. "If you will allow me to go ashore I will try my luck with the
gun."
"Certainly, certainly," was the reply; though Robert added, "You must
remember that this is a wild country, Harold, and that we had better
keep within hearing at least of each other’s guns."
Harold promised not to wander beyond the appointed limit; and each
agreed that if help were needed, two guns should be fired in quick
succession.
"Will you not take my double barrel?" said Robert. "It is loaded with
duck and squirrel shot, but you can easily draw and load for deer."
"I thank you, no," replied Harold. "It is so long since I have handled
anything but a rifle, that a smooth bore now would be awkward."
They put him ashore, then dropped anchor, and began to fish. Mary and
Frank had been long initiated into the mysteries of the art. On the
present occasion, Robert reserved to himself the shrimp, and set them to
the easier task of fishing for crabs. For security he tied the lines to
the thowl pins. Crabs, as all upon the seaboard well know, are not
caught with hooks, but with bait either hooked or tied to a lie, and
with a spoon-shaped net. The crab takes hold of the bait with its
claws, and is drawn to the surface, when the net is carefully introduced
below. Robert inserted his own hook through the back of a live silver
fish, and threw it in the water as a bait for drum. Soon Mary was seen
drawing up her line, which she said was very heavy. "There is a crab on
it, brother!" she cried, as it approached the surface; "two crabs! two!
two!" Robert was near her. He inserted the net below, and the two
captives were soon in the boat. "Well done for you, Miss Mary; you have
beat us all!"
Here Frank called out suddenly, "I have got one too! O, how heavy he is!
Brother, come; he is pulling my line away!"
It was not a crab. Robert and he pulled together, and after
considerable play, they found that it was an enormous cat-fish or
bull-head.
"This fellow will make a capital stew for tomorrow’s dinner," said
Robert. "But hold to your line, Frank, while I put the net under him
also. I am afraid of these terrible side fins."
The fish had scarcely been raised over the gunwale of the boat, with the
remark, "that is a bouncer!" when Robert noticed his own line fizzing
through the water at a rapid rate. He quickly loosed it from the place
where it was tied, and payed out yard after yard as the vigorous fish
darted and struggled away; then humouring its motion by giving or taking
the line as seemed to be necessary, he at last drew it towards him, and
took it aboard. It was a drum, the largest he had ever caught, or
indeed ever seen. It was as long as his arm, and strong enough to
require all his art for its capture.
He loosed the hooks from the floundering fishes, and tried for more.
But they now seemed slow to bite. He took only two others, and they
were small. Mary, however, caught nine crabs, and Frank two. Becoming
weary of the sport, they heard afar off the sharp crack of a rifle.
"There goes Harold’s rifle!" said Robert; "and I warrant something has
seen its last of the sun. Let us put up our lines, and meet him at the
tent."
The anchor was weighed, the sail spread, and in the course of half an
hour they saw Harold at the landing.
"What have you brought?" they all asked.
"O, nothing--nothing at all," he replied, looking at the same time much
pleased.
"Nothing!" responded Robert. "Why we paid you the compliment of saying,
’There goes Harold’s rifle! and you may be sure he has killed
something."
"If _you_ have not anything, _we have_," boasted Frank. "See what a big
fish I caught! Isn’t it a bouncer for a little fellow like me to catch?
Why, sir, he nearly pulled me into the water; but I pulled and pulled,
and brother Robert came to help me, and we both pulled, and got him in.
See, too, what brother Robert caught--a big trout; and sister Mary, she
caught a parcel of crabs; I caught two crabs myself. And you haven’t
anything! Why, cousin Harold, are you not ashamed of yourself?"
"But you have killed something; I see it in your looks," said Mary,
scrutinizing his countenance; "what is it?"
"That is another question," replied Harold. "You all asked me at first
what I had brought. Now, I _have brought_ nothing; but I have _to
bring_ a deer."
"Then, indeed, you have beat us," said Robert; "but that is only what I
expected."
"A deer!" exclaimed the two younger. "O, take us to see it!"
Mooring the boat safely, they hastened with Harold to the scene of
slaughter. It was about half a mile distant. There lay a large fat
buck, with branching horns, and sleek brown sides. Frank threw himself
upon it in an ecstasy of delight; patted, hugged, and almost kissed it.
Mary hung back, shrinking from the sight of blood.
"O, cousin Harold," she cried, "what a terrible gash your bullet has
made in the poor thing’s throat! Just look there!"
Harold laughed. "That was not made by my ball, but by my knife.
Hunters always bleed their game, cousin, or it will not look so white,
taste so sweet, nor keep so well."
The boys prepared to carry it home. Harold, taking from his bosom the
hatchet, cut a long stout pole, and Robert brought some leaves of the
silk grass (the yucca filamentosa, whose long narrow leaves are strong
as cords), with which the legs of the deer were tied together. Swinging
it on the pole between them, they marched homewards.
By this afternoon’s excursion they were provided with a delightful
supply of fish, crabs, and venison. But, alas! they were compelled to
be their own butchers and cooks; and there are certain processes through
which these delicacies must pass before being ready for the mouth that
are not so agreeable. Mary and Frank brought up the fish, and set about
preparing them for supper. They laid each upon a flat root of the tree,
and with a knife scraped off the scales. This was dirty work for a nice
young lady, but it was necessary to the desired end. She pshawed and
pshawed at it as the slimy scales adhered to her fingers, or flew into
her face, but she persevered until all was done.
In the meantime the fire had been mended, and water poured into their
largest pot. When it began to boil, Mary and Frank dropped in the
crabs. Poor creatures! it was a warm reception they met with from their
native element. Each one gave a kick at the unwelcome sensation, and
then sunk into quiet repose, at the bottom of its iron sepulchre. They
remained boiling until their shells were perfectly red, when they were
taken out, and piled in a dish for supper.