FRANK AND HIS "PIGS"--THE CAGE--WALK ON THE BEACH--IMMENSE CRAWFISH--THE
MUSEUM--NAMING THE ISLAND
Frank’s first words the next morning, as in his night-clothes he ran
from Mary’s room, were, "Have you brought my pig?"
"Yes! yes!" they answered, "three of them; and all yoked to boot, so
that they cannot get either into the garden or the cornfield."
Frank did not comprehend this enigmatical language; he hastily dressed
and went out. Close to the awning he found the new comers sitting, each
secured by the novel pillory which Harold had contrived. They were ugly
looking creatures, with long, hypocritical faces, coarse, grizzly hair,
and an expression of countenance exceedingly contemptible. Frank had
often seen opossums before, but the fancy name of pigs had caused him
mentally to invest them with the neat and comely aspect of the little
grunters at home. When he hurried from the tent, and saw them in their
native ugliness, writhing their naked, snakey tails, he turned away with
unaffected disgust.
"They are not very pretty," said Harold, watching the changes that
flitted across the little fellow’s face.
"No, indeed," he replied; "they are the ugliest things I ever saw. You
may keep them and feed them yourself; for I will not have them for
mine."
The unsightly appearance of the opossum excites in many persons a
prejudice against its use for the table. But when young and tender, or
after having been kept for several days, its flesh is so nearly in taste
like that of a roast pig, that few persons can distinguish the
difference.
A cage for the captives was soon constructed, of poles several inches in
diameter, notched into each other, and approaching at the top like a
stick trap. The floor was also guarded with poles, to prevent their
burrowing out.
"Now we need one or two troughs for their water and food," observed
Harold, after the prisoners, loosed from their neck-locks, had been
introduced into the airy saloon erected for their accommodation. "I
propose, therefore, that Mary and Frank shall go with one of us to Shell
Bluff, and bring home a supply of conch shells, to be converted, as we
need them, into troughs, cups, dippers, and trumpets."
Mary and Frank needed no persuasion to go upon this excursion, after the
glowing description given by the boys on their return from the beach.
Robert preferred to remain with Sam. The others set off--Harold with
his gun, which, for reasons of policy, was an inseparable companion,
Mary with a basket, and Frank with his dog and hatchet. On arriving at
the beach, down which they were to pass for a mile or more, the
youngsters amused themselves for a time with writing names, or making
grotesque figures in the hard smooth sand; then ran to overtake Harold,
who had walked slowly on, watching the sea-gulls plunge after their prey
on the surface of the water; for a short distance they went with him
side by side, chatting through mere excitement; then dashing far ahead,
they picked up shells and other curiosities thrown up from the sea.
Several times was Mary’s basket filled with prizes, and afterwards
emptied for others still more beautiful, before they reached the place
which the boys had named "Shell Bluff."
The beach at that place was lovely indeed. For half a mile or more it
looked like snow, mottled with rose colour here, and with dark brown
there; while, crowning the bluff above, waved a cluster of tropical
palmettoes, around whose bases gathered the dark and fragrant cedar.
Again Mary replenished her basket, Frank filled every pocket he had, and
his cap besides, and Harold collected his handkerchief full of
fine-looking conch shells. They were about returning, when their
attention was attracted by the shell of an enormous crawfish, whose body
alone was nearly a foot long, and whose claws, extending far in front,
were of hideous dimensions. This last Harold said he must take home for
"Mr. Philosopher Robert," and learn from him what it was.
Robert was much pleased to see the collections they had made, and
particularly so with the shell. He said that this was another proof, if
he needed any other, to show that they were on the western coast of
South Florida, for he had often heard of the enormous crawfish that
abounded there, and that were almost equal in size to the lobster.
"Let us be sure, Harold," said he, "to put it beside your oyster, with
the raccoon’s foot, as the beginning of a museum gathered from the
island."
"Yes; and our rattlesnake’s skin," Frank added.
"And our turkey’s tail, and Frank’s plume," said Mary. "We have the
beginning of a museum already; for there are besides these things about
twenty varieties of shells and sea-weeds in this basket, some of which I
never saw before."
Harold was as much interested as any in the idea of a museum; for though
he knew nothing of its proper arrangement, he had good sense enough to
perceive that it was a very ready means of acquiring and retaining
knowledge.
"But the name of this island," said Robert, musing; "I have several
times wished that we had one. And why should we not, for who has a
better right to give it a name than we, its only inhabitants?"
He expressed the mind of the whole company, and they soon proceeded to
call upon each other for nominations. "The rule in such cases, I have
heard, is to begin with the youngest," said Robert. "So Master Frank,
do you tell us what you would have it called."
Frank mused a moment, and replied, "I will call it Turkey Island;
because turkeys were the first thing we saw here."
"My name, I think, will be the Island of Hope," said Mary, as her
brother’s eye rested on her. "We have certainly been _hoping_ ever
since we came, and will continue to hope until we get away."
"Yes, but we sometimes despaired, too," answered Robert, "especially on
the morning after the storm. I have thought of the Caloosa name--the
Enchanted Island."
"Please, Massa," Sam implored, "don’t call um by dat name. I begin to
see ghosts now; and I ’fraid, if you call um so, I will see ghosts and
sperits all de time."
"I think a more suitable name still," said Harold, "is the Island of
Refuge. It has certainly been to us a refuge from the sea, and from the
storm. And if it is the Enchanted Island, of which Riley spoke, it will
also prove a refuge from the Indians, for none will dare to trouble us
here."
Sam declined suggesting any name. He said, pointing across the river to
the bluff, where he had met with his accident, "Dat my place, obe’
turrah side;[#] and my name for him is Poor Hope."
[#] That is my place, over the other side.
The name decided by universal acclamation, was THE ISLAND OF REFUGE.
"I wish we had a horn of oil," said Robert, "I would anoint it, as
discoverers are said to do. And if any person could suggest an
appropriate speech I would repeat it on the occasion; but the only words
I can think of now are,
’Isle of Beauty, fare thee well!’
And much as I admire everything around, I hope ere long to repeat those
words in truth."