“A CONTINENT BEFORE US.”
It was very hard for the boys to get their spirits up after the news
they had just heard.
“Ten days before our folks hear from us!” ejaculated Phœnix. “That’s
simply dreadful! They’ll give us up long before that time.”
“We will find them all in black when we get back,” said Chap, with a
doleful face.
But even this gloomy prospect could not long depress the spirits of our
young friends.
By the next morning they were going about cheerfully, hoping and
believing that something would soon turn up by which they could
speedily get back to their friends, or, at least, send news of their
safety.
The weather was now fine, although it was so cool that they were
obliged to wear their overcoats whenever they were on deck, and they
could not help enjoying this unexpected sea voyage.
They did not see much of the tug-boat people. These men lived forward
with the crew of the steamer, while the boys ate and slept with the
passengers.
On the morning of the third day of their steamer trip, they met one of
the tug-boat crew,--a man named Adam Guy. This man had been the only
person on board the tug-boat to whom the boys had taken any particular
fancy. He had been a sailor, had visited many parts of the world, and
had a great deal to tell of his various experiences on the sea and
land. He was a strong and wiry, but not very large, man; and, like
many sailors, he wore little gold rings in his ears. His hair was thin
and sandy, and hung in short curls at the back of his head. He had a
pleasant smile, and appeared to be an easy-going, good-tempered fellow.
“Young men,” said Adam, “I’ve been a-wantin’ to see you and have a
little talk with you. Do you know there’s no chance of our meetin’ any
vessels, or of your bein’ sent home or gettin’ any word back, either?”
“How is that?” asked the boy.
“Why, it’s just this. We’re out of the way now of all craft bound
north. I did think we might a’ met a coast steamer yesterday or the
day before; but if we did, we passed them in the night, for I didn’t
see any. We are now off the coast of Florida, and as we are sailin’
south, we keep pretty well in shore, so as to be out of the way of the
Gulf Stream, which runs northward, you know; and, as you’ve lived on a
big river, you understand what it is to sail agin a strong tide. But,
of course, every vessel bound north tries to keep in the current of
the Gulf Stream, so’s to be helped along. So, just about here, where
the Gulf Stream is near our coast, you find all vessels, goin’ south,
keepin’ pretty near shore, and them bound north, far out. It won’t be
long before we’re near enough to the coast for you to see the trees.
And we’ll run down till we git about opposite Jupiter light, and then
we’ll sail across the stream and make straight for the Bahamas. I know
all about these waters, for I’ve sailed in them often. Now, as for me,
I don’t want to go to Nassau, and I don’t believe you want to, either.
The captain of our tug and the rest of our men are all willin’ to go,
and ship on this steamer for their home trip. They’ll be short o’ hands
then, for some of the crew are to be discharged at Nassau, but I don’t
want to go to that old English town. I’ve been there, and I’ve had
enough of it.”
“But what are we going to do?” asked Phil. “We can’t jump overboard and
swim ashore.”
“No,” said Adam, “we can’t do that, but I’ve a plan in my head. Before
we git to Jupiter light, the water is so deep near the coast that
steamers often run in very close. Now, if the captain would lie-to
there and send you fellers and me ashore in a boat, it would be the
best thing he could do for us.”
“What would we do when we got there?” asked the boys.
“Do?” said Adam. “Why we’d all go North, and lose no time about it,
instead of goin’ over to the Bahamas and stayin’ there, I don’t know
how long, and then takin’ a week for the home trip. Just back of the
coast-line, down there, is the Indian River, and sometimes it’s not
much more’n a stone’s throw from the beach. If we could be landed, we
could easily git over to that, and there we’d find a craft to take us
up to Titusville, and from that place we’d easy git over to the St.
John’s River, and then you boys could telegraph home. I’ve travelled
all through that part of Florida, and I could take you along as
straight as a bee-line. There are settlements here and there on the
Indian River, and you needn’t be afraid but we’ll be taken good care of
till we git to Titusville. After that it’ll be all plain sailin’.”
“I’d like that plan first-rate,” said Chap.
“And so would I!” cried both of the other boys.
“But do you think the captain would stop,” asked Phil, “and put us off?”
“That’s what’s got to be found out,” said Adam. “If I was you fellers
I’d just go to him and ask about it. Lay the p’ints before him strong,
and let him know how much you want to send word to your friends where
you are, and then to git along home as quick as possible. Tell him I’ll
go along with you and pilot you through all straight.”
The boys agreed that this plan was a capital one, and, after a little
consultation, they decided to go and talk to the captain about it, and
make Phil the spokesman.
At first, the captain did not take very kindly to the proposition. He
did not wish to lose time, nor to incur the trouble and risk of sending
a boat on shore. He also knew that a great part of the coast of Florida
was nothing but a barren waste, and he did not think it would be any
great kindness to the persons he had saved from drowning to put them on
shore to suffer from exposure and privation. But, on the other hand, if
the boys were landed in Florida, they would be at least in their own
country, and ought to be able to communicate with their friends much
sooner than if he took them along with him to the foreign islands to
which he was bound.
“You would need money,” he said, “after you get ashore, for you
couldn’t expect the people there to take care of you, and carry you
about free of charge; and, although I am willing to give you a berth
here, I can’t supply you with cash for a land trip.”
“I have some money,” said Phil, “though not very much.”
“And I’ve got----” said Chap, thrusting his hands into his pocket.
“Oh, there’s plenty of money,” interrupted Phœnix. “There need be no
trouble about that.”
“Well, then,” said the captain, who was beginning to see some sense in
the proposition of the boys, “one difficulty is removed. Suppose you go
forward and send that man you spoke of to me.”
The captain had a long conversation with Adam, and convinced himself
that that individual knew what he was talking about when he proposed
his plan. The captain of the tug-boat was called in, and Adam’s
trustworthiness seemed well established.
After consultation with some of the other officers, it was decided
to put the boys and Adam Guy ashore when a suitable place should be
reached. The news created considerable excitement among the passengers,
and great interest was taken in the proposed landing of the boys.
The air in these semi-tropical waters was warm and balmy, and the sea
was smooth. Everything seemed favorable for going on shore. About four
o’clock in the afternoon the ship lay to about half a mile from a
broad, sandy beach. This locality Adam declared he knew very well.
The Indian River, he said, lay but a short distance back, behind a
narrow forest of palmettos; and at the distance of a mile or two there
was a house on the river bank, where shelter could be obtained until
they could get transportation up the river.
The captain, however, took care that the little party should not
suffer in case they did not reach shelter as soon as they expected. He
provided them with provisions suitable for two days, put up in four
convenient packages. Each carried a canteen of fresh water, and Adam
took charge of a large tarpaulin, rolled up into a compact bundle,
which could be used as a protection in case of rain. The weather was
so mild that their overcoats would be sufficient to keep them warm at
night.
While the men were preparing to lower a boat, Phil took Phœnix aside,
and asked him what he meant by saying there was plenty of money.
“Chap has only three dollars,” he said, “and I haven’t that much.”
“I have fifty dollars,” said Phœnix, “and I guess that will take us
along till we can telegraph for more.”
“How did you come to have that much?” asked Phil, with surprise.
“Why, you see, our folks haven’t settled what is to be done with some
money I got for helping to run the ‘Thomas Wistar’ ashore, and father
is taking care of it. But I made up my mind that I was going to keep
hold of some of it myself. A fellow likes to feel that he has got
something of his own that he can lay hands on, no matter what is done
with the general pile. So I locked up fifty dollars in my room, and
when we started off, I didn’t want to leave it behind, for I didn’t
know but the house might burn down. So I put it in an old money-belt
father used to wear, and it’s strapped around me now.”
“You’re a gay old fellow!” said Chap, who had come up and heard this.
“You are always turning up at the right time.”
“And right side up,” said Phil.
A few minutes after this, a large boat, pulled by four men, and
containing Adam Guy and our three friends, was leaving the side of the
steamer, followed by the cheers of the passengers, who had assembled on
the decks to bid the little party farewell.
The sea was quiet, with the exception of a long and gentle swell, and
the first part of the little trip seemed like rowing on a river. But
when they neared the shore and saw the long lines of surf rolling
in front of them, the boys began to feel a little uneasy. This was
something entirely novel to them, and, although they were not exactly
afraid, they could not say that they felt altogether comfortable at the
idea of going through these roaring breakers.
But the surf at this point was not really very high, and the boat was
a metallic one, with air compartments at each end, and the men rowed
steadily on, appearing to have no more fears of the breakers than of
the open sea.
As the boat reached the first line of surf and was lifted up and
carried swiftly forward on its great back, and then dropped into a
watery hollow, to be raised again by another wave and carried still
farther on, our boys held tightly to the sides of the boat as if they
felt they must stick to that craft, whatever happened. But the men
pulled steadily on, keeping the boat’s head straight for the shore.
The breakers came rolling on behind as if they would sweep over the
boat and cover her up with their dark green water, but another wave
seemed always underneath to carry her on beyond the reach of the one
which followed, and it was not long before, by the aid of oars and the
incoming surf, they gained the beach.
Before the wave which had carried them in began to recede, Adam and
another man jumped into the water and pulled the boat well up on the
sands.
Then the whole party disembarked, Chap jumping into water ankle-deep,
and giving a shout that might have been heard on the steamer.
As soon as the boys’ valises and the other traps had been put ashore,
the boat was turned about, and, with Adam’s help, was launched into the
surf.
The pull back through the breakers was harder than the coming in, but
the four men knew their business, and the stanch life-boat easily
breasted every line of surf.
In five minutes they were out in smooth water and pulling hard for the
steamer. As soon as they reached it the boat was hauled up, the vessel
was put about, and with a farewell blast from her steam-whistle, she
proceeded on her way.
“Hurrah!” cried Chap, waving his cap over his head. “Now I feel that we
are really our own masters, and that we’re going to have the rarest old
time we’ve ever known. Boys, the whole continent is before us!”
“That’s the trouble of it,” said Phil. “If there wasn’t quite so much
continent before us we might expect to get home sooner.”
“Trouble? Home?” cried Chap. “Don’t let anybody mention such things to
me. I’m gayer than the larkiest lark that ever flapped himself aloft!”
And, with these words, he ran to the top of a little sand hillock to
see as much of the continent as he could.
“If I were you fellers,” said Adam, “I’d make that young man captain.
You’ll never be able to manage him if you don’t let him go ahead.”
“Good!” said Phil; “let’s make him captain, and you, Phœnix, ought to
be treasurer, for you carry the funds.”
“And what’ll you be?” asked Phœnix.
“You’re mixin’ up your officers,” said Adam; “but as a party of this
kind is a little out of the general run, I guess it won’t matter.
As this is a land expedition,” he said to Phil, “you might be
quartermaster, and I’ll be private.”
“All right!” cried the boys.
And when Chap came running down from the sand-hill he was informed of
the high position to which he had been chosen.
“My friends,” cried Chap, drawing himself up and clapping his breast
with his hand, “you do me honor, and I’ll lead you--I’ll lead you----”
“Into no end of scrapes,” suggested Phil.
“Perhaps you’re right. That may be so. But you’re bound to follow,”
said Captain Chap.
“He’ll lead you sure enough,” laughed Adam. And then he added
to himself, forgetting that this was a land, and not a nautical
expedition, “I’ll keep my hand upon the tiller.”
[Illustration]