CYD HAS A BAD FIT.
Cyd was roused from his slumbers at nine o'clock to assist in working
the Isabel farther into the swamp, and in the course of the day she was
safely moored in her permanent position. The quick eye of Dan had
detected the admirable fitness of this place both for concealment and
defence. It was not more than three miles from the lake.
The Isabel was secured between two islets, in the midst of a broad
lagoon. The channel between the two portions of land was only wide
enough to admit the boat, and the shore was covered with an impenetrable
thicket of bushes and trees, so that the fugitives were obliged to
"strip" the sail-boat, and take out her masts, before they could move
her into the narrow bayou.
The next day, when the morning work on board was done, they commenced
the task of concealing the Isabel more effectually from the view of any
persons who might possibly penetrate the swamp. A half-decayed log was
thrown across the channel, and green branches stuck in the ground, till
the boat could not be seen. A coat of green paint was then put over the
white one, and the party were satisfied that no one could discover their
retreat, unless he happened to blunder upon it.
In these preparations a great deal of hard work was done; but the
feeling of security which they procured amply compensated for the labor.
When it was done, the fugitives enjoyed a season of rest, and for a week
they did nothing but eat and sleep, though a strict watch was kept all
the time to guard against a surprise. But this was an idle and stupid
life; and even Cyd, who had formerly believed that idleness was bliss,
began to grow weary of it. A few days more were employed in building a
bridge from the deck of the boat to the island, in establishing a
kitchen on shore, and in making such other improvements on board and on
the land as their limited experience in the swamp suggested.
After every change and addition which the ingenuity of the fugitives
could devise had been completed, the time again began to hang heavily on
their hands. It was a happy thought of Lily that Dan should open a
school for the instruction of Quin and Cyd, and half the day was very
pleasantly occupied in this manner. At the end of a month both of these
pupils were able to read a little from Dan's Testament, and they
continued to make good progress during the remainder of their residence
in the swamp.
At the end of a month Dan saw with dismay the inroad which had been made
upon the supply of provisions. The addition of one person to the party
had deranged his calculations, for Quin was blessed with a tremendous
appetite. It was necessary that a sufficient quantity of the bacon and
crackers should be reserved for the voyage that was yet before them,
which might be a month in duration, or even longer. This supply had been
carefully stowed away in the fore hold, and at the rate they consumed
their provisions, the remainder would not last them two months.
Dan communicated his doubts and fears on this subject to Quin and Cyd,
who immediately became very wise, and suggested a dozen expedients to
meet the difficulty. Cyd proposed to forage on a plantation, which was
immediately condemned as involving too much risk. Quin thought they
might go to the nearest store and purchase food, as both Dan and Lily
had considerable sums of money. This also was too dangerous.
"What's de use stoppin here so long?" asked Quin.
"The search for us has not ended yet," replied Dan.
"But dey won't tink no more ob us in two monfs from dis yere time."
"Very true; but the water will be so low that we can't get out of the
lake in less than one month from now. We must stay here till next
spring," added Dan, decidedly.
"Wha--wha--what ye gwine to stop here a whole year fur?" demanded Cyd,
with his usual impetuosity.
"When would you leave?"
"When de water gets high in de fall."
"If we go to sea in the fall or winter, we shall meet with terrible
storms in the Gulf. We should perish with the cold, or founder in a
gale. We may have to be at sea a month. We shall have to meet our
greatest perils after we leave this place."
"Well, I s'pose you knows best, Dan; and we's gwine to do jus what you
say," replied Quin, meekly.
"Dem's um, Dan; you jus tell dis chile wot you wants done, and we's
gwine to do notin but do it," said Cyd.
"But we must have something to eat while we remain here," added Dan.
"Dat's so; niggers can't lib widout eatin."
"We can do as the Indians do--we can hunt and fish," suggested Dan.
"Sartin--plenty ob ducks and geese, pigeons and partridges."
"And we have fowling pieces, with plenty of powder and shot; but none of
us are hunters, and I'm afraid we shall not have very good luck in
shooting game."
It was decided that Dan and Quin should try their luck on the following
day; and having taken an early breakfast, they started in the bateau,
rowing down the bayou in the direction of the lake. Dan was provided
with a fowling piece, while Quin was to try his luck as a fisherman. The
former was landed at a convenient place, while the latter pushed off
into the deep waters of the lake, each to exercise his craft to the best
of his ability.
On the shore of the lake Dan saw an abundance of wild ducks; but they
were so very wild that he found a great deal of difficulty in getting
near enough to risk the expenditure of any portion of the precious
ammunition which was to last a year. He fired twice without injuring the
game, and began to think that he was never intended for a sportsman. The
third time he wounded a duck, but lost him. This was hopeful, and he
determined to persevere. At the next shot he actually bagged a brant,
and, what was better, he believed he had "got the hang" of the business,
so that he could hunt with some success.
We will not follow him through the trials and disappointments of a six
hours' tramp; but the result of his day's shooting was five ducks and
one goose, with which he was entirely satisfied. With the game in his
bag, he hastened back to the place where Quin had landed him in the
morning. The other sportsman had been waiting two hours for him, and had
been even more fortunate than his companion, having captured about a
dozen good-sized catfish. The result of the expedition was very
promising, and the food question appeared to be settled. With light
hearts they pulled back to the camp, as Dan had christened their
dwelling-place in the swamp.
"Where is Cyd?" asked Dan, as he hauled the boat through the dense
thicket which concealed the Isabel from the gaze of any outsiders.
"He is here on deck," replied Lily, with a troubled expression.
"Something ails him."
"What's the matter?"
"I don't know; he is very sick, and I am so glad you have come!" added
the poor girl, who appeared to have suffered an age of agony in the
absence of the hunter.
Dan was alarmed, for he had not yet considered even the possibility of
the serious illness of any member of the party; and Lily's announcement
conjured up in his vivid imagination visions of suffering and death. He
was full of sympathy, too, for his companion, to whom he was strongly
attached. With a heart full of painful and terrible forebodings, he
leaped upon the deck of the Isabel, and rushed to the standing room,
where Cyd lay upon the floor. The sufferer had evidently just rolled off
the cushioned seat, and was disposed in the most awkward and
uncomfortable position into which the human form could be distorted.
Dan and Quin immediately raised him tenderly from the floor, and placed
him upon the cushions. This movement seemed to disturb the sufferer, and
he opened his eyes, muttering some incoherent words. At the same time he
threw his arms and legs about in a frightful manner. Dan was quite as
much puzzled and alarmed as Lily had been. He did not know what to do
for him. His experience as a nurse had been very limited, and his
knowledge of human infirmities was extremely deficient.
"What ails him?" asked Lily, whose anxiety for the patient completely
beclouded her beautiful face.
"I don't know," replied Dan, hardly less solicitous for the fate of his
friend. "How long has he been sick?"
"After you went away I was busy in the cabin for two or three hours,
taking care of the dishes and cleaning up the place. When I came on deck
he seemed to act very strangely. I never heard him talk so fast before.
He said he felt sick, and thought he should vomit. He was so weak he
could not walk; when he tried to do so, he staggered and fell. I helped
him upon the seat, and then he seemed to be asleep. I bathed his head
with cold water. When he waked up he was stupid, and I was afraid he
would die before you got back. I didn't know what to do; so I gave him
some brandy."
"How much did you give him?" asked Dan.
"Only about half a tumbler full--as much as you gave Quin when he was
sick. Poor fellow! You don't know how much I have suffered in your
absence."
During this conversation, Quin, who had more skill as a physician and
nurse than his companions, had been carefully examining the patient.
"What do you think of him, Quin?" asked Dan, as he turned from Lily to
consult with him.
"I tink dar's hope for Cyd," replied he, a queer smile playing about
his mouth as he glanced at the anxious leader of the party.
"Do you? Then you understand the case--do you?"
"Yes, sar; I do, for sartin. My old massa used to hab jus such fits as
dat," added Quin, his countenance beaming with intelligence.
"What did you do for him?"
"Notin, but put him to bed and let him sleep it off; I tink cold water
good for him. Dat's what missus used to do for old massa when he hab it
bery bad."
At the suggestion of Quin, Cyd was placed outside of the washboard, and
half a dozen buckets of cold water were dashed upon him by the
relentless hand of the negro nurse.
"Wha--wha--wha--" roared Cyd, as the first bucket fell upon him.
"See dar!" exclaimed Quin, triumphantly. "He done git better so quick.
Gib him some more;" and he dashed another pailful upon him.
"Go away dar!" cried Cyd, trying to rise; but Dan held him fast.
"Dat do him heaps ob good," added Quin; and he continued to apply the
harsh remedy.
"Don't do it any more, Quin," interposed Lily, who seemed to think the
remedy was as bad as the disorder.
"Do him power ob good. Drive de fit right away from him," answered Quin,
as he remorselessly dashed another bucket of cold water upon the
patient. "Dat's wat dey call de water-cure."
"Go away dar!" screamed Cyd. "Luff dis chile lone."
"Don't, Quin; he does not like it," said Lily.
"'Pose he don't; nobody likes de medicine."
"But you may kill him," added Dan.
"Kill him! Don't you see he's growin better all de time? Dar; dat'll
do," replied Quin, as he carried the bucket to the forecastle.
"Wha--wha--what's the matter?" demanded Cyd.
"Do you feel better, Cyd?" asked Dan, tenderly, as he permitted the
patient to roll over into the standing room.
"Yes, sar!
'I's born way down 'pon de Mississip;
I's crossed de riber on a cotton-wood chip,'"
roared Cyd, trying to sing a familiar song.
"Why, he is crazy!" exclaimed Lily.
"Yes, missy, he's crazy; but he soon git ober it," answered Quin,
laughing.
"Why do you laugh, Quin? You don't seem to be at all concerned about
him," added Lily.
"Bad fit, missy!"
"What ails him?"
"Bad fit, missy; my ole massa use to hab lots ob dem fits," chuckled
Quin.
"But what kind of a fit is it, Quin?"
"Notin, missy, only Cyd done drink too much whiskey, and get
drunk--dat's all."