“CAPTAIN OF HIMSELF.”
Captain Chap and Treasurer Phœnix had a very good time fishing, and
before long they had caught many more fish than they thought would
be needed for that night’s supper. They were not at all sure that
everything they had taken was good to eat, but they thought that Adam
would be able to pick out of the catch enough for a meal. They had no
blue-fish or bass, for this was not a part of the river where these
were to be found, nor did Chap have an opportunity to exercise his
strength in hauling in another powerful cavalio.
After a time Chap wound up his line.
“It’s no use catching any more fish,” he said. “We have enough of them
now, and we might as well pole the boat ashore, and wash off this
forward deck. But before we do that, I’m going to take a swim.”
“That would be a good idea,” said Phœnix.
“It’s as warm down in this part of the world as if it was summer-time,
and the water looks so nice and clear I feel as if I’d like to jump
into it.”
Both boys now began to undress, but Chap was ready first, and standing
on the top of the little cabin he made a dive into the water. He soon
rose again to the surface, and swimming around in a small circle,
returned to the boat.
“You’d better take care how you dive,” he said to Phœnix, reaching up
as he spoke and taking hold of the side of the boat. “The bottom is
horrid. It’s all covered with oysters, and it won’t do to get any of
the water in your mouth, for it’s salt.”
“Why, didn’t you know that?” said Phœnix, who was not quite ready to
go in. “This river is really only an arm of the sea, and all those big
fish we caught the other day came in from the ocean.”
“Yes, I remember Adam’s telling about it,” said Chap, “but I forgot it.
I don’t believe I care to swim in such water as this. It isn’t like the
ocean, and it isn’t like the real, honest river. The water isn’t very
deep out here, but it seemed sort of scary to me when I went down.”
“I guess that’s because of the queer things you know are in the river,”
suggested Phœnix.
“I shouldn’t wonder if that was it,” said Chap.
Just at this moment a sound was heard in the river that made the boys
jump. It was the noise of something rushing through the water, and,
looking around, they saw part of the back and tail of a great fish,
which was surging along at a tremendous rate toward the boat.
Chap instinctively pulled himself up by his hands, and Phœnix made a
frenzied clutch at his arm and jerked him out of the water and over the
side of the boat before Chap knew what he intended to do.
The fish swept within ten feet of them, and then making a turn, it
seemed to shake itself as if with disappointment and anger, and,
dashing along like a steamboat for a short distance, it raised its tail
in the air and disappeared.
“What was that thing?” asked Chap, as soon as he could find voice to
speak.
“Can’t say,” answered Phœnix, his face still pale, “unless it was a
shark.”
“It couldn’t be that,” returned Chap. “It must have been a porpoise, or
something of that kind.”
“Porpoises don’t chase people,” said Phœnix, “and that creature came
after you, Chap. He must have seen you when you made your dive, and
it’s lucky for you that he didn’t start sooner.”
“That’s so,” said Chap. “Let’s pull up the anchor and pole her ashore.
No more swimming in these waters for me!”
The boys quickly dressed themselves and hauled on the long anchor rope
until they had pulled the boat into water where they could reach the
bottom with their pole. Then pushing her in, they made her fast to the
shore, and went to work to gather up their fish and make things clean
and tidy.
While they were thus engaged, Phil and Adam, hot and flushed, made
their appearance from the woods. The astonishment of Chap and Phœnix
when their companions ran to them and proudly held up the little bears
is not to be described.
“Isn’t this something like a bear-hunt?” cried Phil. “Killed an old
one, and carried off these youngsters. To be sure, Adam did it all, but
I gave him moral support.”
Chap and Phœnix now loudly demanded a full account of the adventures of
the others, and when these had been told and the little bears had been
admired and patted and finally stowed away in an old box, which was
lined with a blanket from one of the beds, Chap exhibited the fish he
and Phœnix had caught, and told of the big fellow they had seen in the
water.
“You don’t mean to say you went in to swim?” exclaimed Adam. “I never
thought of your doin’ a thing like that when I left you. Why, do you
know you were in a great deal more danger than we were, even if the old
man-bear had got after us? That big fish you saw was a shark, and if
it had come along a little sooner, it would a’ taken off one of your
legs as like as not. This is a very good river, but it wasn’t made for
white folks to swim in--at least, not in these parts. There are plenty
of sharks here, and I’m not sure but what you might tempt a ’gator, if
you were very anxious to get bit.”
“Do you know,” said Chap, in a very impressive way, “that I never
thought that there were sharks in this river, and that I totally,
absolutely, and utterly forgot alligators?”
“Sharks!” exclaimed Adam, looking at the fish the boys had caught.
“Why, you ought to have known they were in the river, for here you’ve
got one!”
“A shark!” cried all the boys together, as they clustered around the
pile of fish.
“Yes,” said Adam, pointing to a fish about a foot and a half long, with
a smooth skin and a large flat-topped head; “this is a young shark.”
“Upon my word,” cried Chap, “we hadn’t the least idea of that! We
thought the thing was a big cat-fish. We noticed it hadn’t any feelers
on its mouth, but we supposed cat-fish might be different down here
from those we’re used to. We had lots of trouble in getting the hook
out of its mouth.”
“It’s a lucky thing you didn’t get your fingers into those jaws,” said
Adam, “for you might never have got them out again.”
“Gentlemen,” cried Chap, throwing one arm into the air, “it’s time we
got away from this place. For all we know, there’s a savage bear raging
through the woods after some of us, and out there in the river there’s
an exasperated shark waiting till one of the party is foolish enough to
go in to swim or accidentally tumbles overboard. Let’s up sail and be
off!”
“Well,” said Adam, “as there’s a good breeze gettin’ up from the
sou’east, that’s about the best thing we can do, even if we don’t take
into account bears and sharks.”
As soon as they were fairly under way, Adam gave the tiller to one
of the boys, and set about taking care of his young bears. A small
quantity of condensed milk in tin cans had been purchased of Mr.
Brewer, and some of this, mixed with water, was fed to the cubs. They
were very hungry, and soon lapped it up eagerly.
“It seems like a cruel thing,” said Chap, “to break up a family in that
manner.”
“Well,” replied Adam, “the only way bears can be made of any good to
anybody is to kill ’em or carry ’em off for shows. If people didn’t do
that, there’d better be no bears. Now, if I kin keep these young ones
alive, and git ’em up North, I kin sell ’em to some menagerie man or
show-keeper for a nice little lot of money. Baby bears ain’t common in
shows, and these are as cute little creatures as I ever see.”
The breeze which had arisen did not prove to be very strong, and the
progress of The Rolling Stone was slow. After a time the wind gradually
changed its direction, and there sprung up one of those sudden squalls
which were frequent on the Indian River. The wind blew a hurricane,
the surface of the river was covered with tossing waves, and The
Rolling Stone would probably have rolled entirely over if Adam had not
noticed the approach of the wind-storm and taken quick precautions. The
boat was laid with her head to the gale, and both sails were rapidly
lowered, and when the little bears had been carefully wrapped up and
tucked in, so that they would not take cold, there was nothing to do
but to lie-to till the storm had passed over.
Then, in the afternoon, the wind got around to the northeast, which was
almost dead ahead. Adam was obliged to tack backward and forward all
the afternoon. The boys became rather tired of doing so much sailing
and making so little progress, and when the boat had gradually worked
its way about a mile above a small river, which flowed into the Indian
River from the west, everybody was glad to land at a convenient place
on the west side of the river and make the evening fire.
The next morning, the wind blew more strongly from the north, and, what
was worse, there was not a drop of milk left for the little bears.
“There’s a store about fifteen miles above this place,” said Adam; “but
these cubs will starve before we kin beat up there agin this wind. They
take a lot o’ feedin’, and they’re nearly famished now. But back from
the river, about a mile and a half up, there’s a man who has a little
orange-grove. I was there once, and I know he keeps a lot of supplies
on hand. I’ll walk over there and see if I can’t get some milk.”
Soon after Adam had started, Phil said he thought he would take the
gun and go into the woods, and see if he could not find some game. He
did not intend to look for any bears, but he thought he might find
something smaller.
“I’d like to go along,” said Phœnix, “if it wasn’t that somebody has
got to take care of the boat and things, and I don’t want to leave Chap
alone.”
“Nobody need trouble himself about me,” said Chap; “you go along, and
I’ll stay here and fish. I made up my mind to do that as soon as Adam
said he was going.”
“All right,” said Phil; “but mind you don’t go in to swim.”
“You needn’t be afraid of that!” cried Chap, as his two companions
walked away. “I expect the fish here are not at all like those we
caught before,” he said to himself, as he cut up some pieces of bait.
“They seem to be different at every place we stop.”
Chap was a strange fellow. He liked his friends, and he was fond of
company, but he was even more fond of entirely independent action.
“Now, then,” he said to himself, “I can go ahead and fish just as I
please. I’m not quite sure that I’m always captain of this party, but
one thing is certain, I can be captain of myself.”
[Illustration]