HUNTING IN HARNEY'S RIVER
The boys had chosen the last of the ebb tide for the trip down
Rodgers River, which gave them low water for their work on the clam
bar and a flood tide to help them up Harney's River. They made a
false start at the mouth of the river by taking a channel that ran
too far to the east and led them a mile or two out of their course,
before they discovered their mistake and returned. After entering
the channel, the course up the river, which averaged east-northeast,
was plain, there being but a single branch to mislead them, in the
first six miles. At the end of these the lower section of Harney's
unites with a branch of Shark River to form Tussock Bay. This bay is
a labyrinth of channels and keys and opens into creeks large and
small, and water-courses shallow and deep, grass-choked and clear.
After exploring its mazes for miles, Dick and Ned found, near the
northeast end of the bay, a tiny key marked by two tall palmettos,
on which were the signs of an old Indian camp. Here they roasted a
mess of clams and spent the night. An entire day was wasted in
following creeks that led nowhere and blind trails. That night they
slept again at the Indian camp and on the following day found a
small channel which, through twisting creeks and crooked waterways,
led to the broad waters of the upper section of Harney's River,
which they followed until they were stopped by the Everglades. They
made their camp by a lime tree which was burdened with fruit, and
went out from it each day to hunt fish or explore and to study and
chart the country about them. The waters of the streams were all
flowing clear and fresh from the Everglades. The creeks were alive
with fish of many kinds, and their surfaces dotted with the heads of
edible turtles.
Alligators were abundant and otters could often be seen sliding down
the banks, or in families, playing together in the water. Ned had
seen a pet otter at Myers and wanted one for himself. He had brought
with him an otter trap, with smooth jaws instead of the cruel teeth
which are customary, and he set it near an otter slide. The next day
as the canoe approached the point where the trap had been set the
rattling of the chain that held it told of the victim it had made.
The hind leg of the otter was held firmly by the trap, but he sprang
fiercely at Ned as he came near, and the sharp teeth snapped
together within a few inches of the boy's face as the short chain
straightened out. The boys went back to their camp, where Ned made a
cage out of the box in which they kept most of their stores, and
then returned to their captive.
"How are you going to get him into the cage, Ned?"
"Hold his head down with a forked stick, take him round the neck
with my hand so he can't bite, take the trap off of his leg and poke
him in the cage."
"Ned! He'll eat you up. I'd rather tackle a wildcat."
"Just watch him eat me up. You stand by, when I've got a good hold,
and take off that trap quick as you can. Then I'll drop him in the
box and--there you are."
"No, we won't be there--not all of us. I wish I was the otter. He'll
have all the fun."
Ned got his forked stick and, after a long struggle, in which Dick
had to help with another stick, caught the otter's neck in the fork
and held the creature firmly to the ground. Then putting his left
hand around its neck he held the head down in the mud, and with his
right hand clutched the skin of the animal's back.
"All right, Dick, take off the trap."
"Trouble's goin' to begin. Here goes," said Dick, and the trap was
removed.
Like a flash of light, as Ned lifted the little beast, it thrust its
head through the loose skin of the neck and turning backward bit
Ned's hand to the bone four times in something less than a second.
The otter would have been free, but that Dick, who was looking for
trouble, had it by the neck with both hands and in spite of its
biting, scratching and struggling, it was dumped in the box and the
door of its cage closed.
"Been having fun! Haven't we?" said Dick, ruefully, as the boys,
scratched, bitten and bleeding, stood looking at each other, after
their victory. Ned's hand was disabled and so painful that Dick
paddled the canoe, with its cargo of boys and pet otter, to their
camp.
"Now, Ned," said Dick, "I'm the surgeon and you are to be respectful
and call me Dr. Dick. Let me see your left hand first. I've got to
decide whether to chop it off, or to try and save some of it."
"You look as if you needed some fixing up yourself, Dick."
"That will be all right. You shall have a chance at me--if you
survive the operation."
Dick got a bottle of carbolated vaseline from their stores, tore up
one of Ned's shirts and put the strips in boiling water. He then
washed Ned's wounds with warm water and soap and dressed and
bandaged them. His own injuries were less serious than Ned's,
although more numerous, and although he spoke lightly of them, his
companion insisted on their having as careful treatment as his own.
When the bandaging was over, Dick said:
"We ought to have a yellow flag to fly over this hospital. I wish we
had a medical book to tell us what we've probably got. The only
things I'm sure of are blood poisoning and hydrophobia. Then there's
enlargement of the spleen. I've got all the symptoms of that."
"Your only danger is from melancholia, Dick. But what are we to do
with the otter? That box is too small for his comfort."
"I'm not losing any sleep over his comfort. I thought I'd take him
out of his cage every morning and lead him around the camp for
exercise until you were ready to begin his education."
"It does not seem quite as easy to tame him as it looked before we
caught him."
"Guess you mean before he caught us."
"Shouldn't wonder if I did. Couldn't we build a cage of poles, with
some of these big vines woven in basket fashion?"
"That would be all right. We could watch him day times and you could
put him back in the box every night for safe keeping. I don't think
he's an otter at all. He just fits the definition of a white
elephant."
On the day after his little difference of opinion with the otter,
Ned's left hand and wrist were so sore and stiff that he could
neither hold his paddle nor his gun. Dick, too, was partially
disabled by the soreness of his arms, but he managed to get about in
the canoe and shoot ducks enough for their meals. They could not
induce the otter to eat anything, although it seemed much less
fearful of them. The leg which had been in the trap was broken and
appeared to trouble the animal, but they could do nothing to help
it. Dick did propose to take the otter out of the cage and offered
to set its leg if Ned would hold the creature. On the second day
their wounds continued to be so troublesome that the boys stayed in
their hospital camp. As they sat that afternoon in the shade of a
lime tree, drinking limeade, Dick, the philosopher, began to
question Ned.
"Don't you pity all these folks about here, Ned? Crackers,
alligators, Indians, the whole ignorant lot of 'em. If they had got
hurt as we did, they would have gone right on about their business.
They'd never have found out that they were probably suffering from
appendicitis and microbes and ought to go to a hospital and be
carved up."
At this moment the bow of an Indian canoe glided silently into the
tiny cove in front of the camp. The boys recognized one of the two
bronzed, bare-legged Seminoles that stood so erect in the canoe, as
from Osceola's camp. His response to Ned's greeting was a question.
"_Whyome_ (whiskey), got him? Want him, _ojus_ (very much)."
Ned told them he had no _whyome_, but brought out coffee and sugar
and invited them to make a brew for themselves. He also produced
grits and venison. The Indians sat down to a feast which lasted as
long as any food remained in sight. One of the Indians looked
curiously at Ned's bandages and smiled a little as he pointed to
the box that held the pet otter. Ned nodded and asked the Indian, by
signs, if he had ever been bitten by one of the creatures. The
Indian held out his hand and showed the scar of a bite that must
have nearly taken off his thumb. After the Indians had gone Dick
looked ruefully over the diminished stores and exclaimed:
"There's going to be a famine in this camp if those Injuns hit us
again."
The next day the boys were very much better and ready for work. Ned
could not hold a paddle with his left hand, so they took a trip into
the Everglades, where the water was so shoal that they used their
paddles as poles and he could push with one hand. They left their
stores in camp, for which afterwards they were glad, and pushed out
several miles among the keys of the Glades, where Dick got a shot at
a deer which was running from one key to another, but made a clean
miss. They saw several alligators and in the afternoon chased one
with the canoe. The boys could go faster than the 'gator, but the
reptile could turn more quickly. At last the canoe was right behind
the quarry and within a few feet of it.
"Give it to her!" yelled Ned, as he seized his paddle in both hands
and threw his weight upon it.
"Here goes!" shouted Dick, as he threw his weight on his paddle,
which, unfortunately, slipped from the point of coral rock on which
it first struck. Dick landed on his back in the water, capsizing the
canoe as he fell. When the young canoemen had picked themselves up,
righted the canoe, and found the rifle, it was too late to look for
the missing alligator, and they plodded slowly home to camp. They
found their captive much tamer. He drank a little water, although he
refused to eat. His leg was badly swollen and they were anxious
about him, and with good reason, for when they awoke in the morning
he was dead.
Ned's last, reckless thrust with his paddle had broken open his
wounds and they became very painful. Dick dressed them again and
warned him that he wasn't to use his hand until he had Dr. Dick's
permission. They explored the creeks around their camp in the canoe,
Dick doing most of the paddling, while Ned helped as well as he
could, with his unhurt arm. The clear water of these little streams
abounded with baby tarpon and other small fish, while often, in the
deeper pools, turtles could be seen scurrying along the bottom. Dick
had never told Ned of the turtle-catching that Johnny had taught
him, so when he said, very casually, "Ned, I think I'll go overboard
and pick up that turtle for supper," Ned replied:
"Don't be an idiot. You couldn't catch that thing in the water in a
thousand years."
"Just hold the canoe steady and watch me." And Dick, resting his
hands on the gunwales, threw himself overboard.
The splash frightened the turtle, which made off up the creek, but
the boy was on his trail and, after a few futile grabs, had the
reptile in his hand.
"Think that will do for supper, Ned, or shall I pick up a few more?"
said Dick, as he put the turtle in the canoe.
"I'd like to know who taught you that, you rascal, playing roots on
your poor old chum, who never had your chance to see the world."
While they were waiting for Ned's hand to get well, Dick got out the
fly-rod and cast-net that came with his canoe and spent all his
spare time trying to learn to throw the net. Johnny had given him a
few lessons, until he thought he had learned to cast it. It was the
kind of net which is used by the Florida Cracker, to the knowledge
of which he is born, which he can cast when he leaves his cradle.
The net was conical, six feet long with a ten-foot mouth, lined with
leaden sinkers. The top of the net was closed, excepting for a small
hole in which was fitted a small ring, through which puckering
strings led from the mouth of the net to a 25-foot line, which was
to be fastened to the fisherman's wrist.
For casting, about half of the net is thrown over each wrist and one
of the sinkers held between the teeth. The net is then swung behind
the fisherman, thrown forward with a whirling motion, the sinker in
his mouth released at exactly the right instant and the net falls in
an almost perfect circle wherever, within thirty feet, the fisherman
wishes. That is the way the net behaved when Johnny threw it. And
when Johnny arranged the net on Dick's arms, told him just what to
do and watched him, Dick made some respectable throws, and thought
he had learned the game; but now, away from his teacher, when he
tried to cast it, net and leads went out in a solid mass that never
could have caught anything, though it might have killed a fish by
knocking it in the head. Dick, however, was bound to learn, and
practiced by the hour, without seeming to make any progress, when
suddenly the net began to go out in circles and his casts became
creditable. He was so fearful of losing his new-found facility that
he practiced for the rest of that day, and lay down at night with
what he called the toothache in every muscle.
But from that day fish was on the bill of fare of the young
explorers.
When Ned's hand was well enough to be used a little, he began by
fishing, sitting in the bow of the canoe, with the fly-rod, while
Dick paddled. He caught several of the big-mouthed black bass, often
called in the South fresh-water trout, and other small fish which
they saved for the pan. Then the line was carried out with a rush by
a fish that twice jumped one or two feet in the air.
"Got a tarpon, sure," said Ned, who had never taken one, and he
became most anxious lest the fish escape.
For nearly half an hour he carefully played the fish, which never
jumped again. When the tired fish was ready to be landed Ned found
that his prize, instead of a tarpon, was a ten-pound fish which he
did not recognize, but which he afterwards learned was a ravaille.
"Well, it was mighty good fun, almost as exciting as if it had been
a tarpon," said Ned, who didn't know how foolishly he was talking.
They were down the river bright and early the following morning but,
for the first hour, failed to hook any of the fish that struck. Then
the hook was snatched and instantly a silver, twisting body shot ten
feet up in the air. As it fell back in the water, the reel began to
buzz and Ned's fingers were burned where the line touched them.
Again and again the great fish leaped high in the air, while the
line ran low on the reel.
"Paddle, Dick, paddle all you know," shouted Ned.
But Dick was already doing his very best. The tarpon changed his
course, came back a little, leaped once more and again started off.
But Ned had got a good many yards of line back on his reel, and was
getting hopeful of landing his first tarpon. He was beginning to
lose line again, when the tarpon turned around and, swimming
straight for the canoe, leaped against Ned with such fury that the
craft was nearly capsized, and when Ned had recovered from the shock
his line was nearly out and the fish headed for a little creek that
was almost overgrown with trees and vines. The first jump of the
tarpon as he entered the stream carried him up among the bushes
that hung over the water, but fortunately the line did not catch in
the branches and, as the fish swam slowly up the little channel, the
canoe was close behind him. Ned held the point of his rod low, that
it might not catch in the bushes, but his heart was up in his mouth
every time the tarpon sprang in the air.
[Illustration: "THE TARPON LEAPED AGAINST NED WITH FURY"]
"It's no use, Dick, we've got to lose him. He isn't a bit tired and
the tangle is getting worse. Then if he turns back I won't have room
for the rod and you can't turn the canoe."
"Never say die, Ned. If he gets away from you, I'll go overboard and
pick him up."
"The creek's opening out into a big river, Dick. We may land him
yet."
The tarpon stayed in the big river, swimming a mile or so and then
turning back, while Ned put all the strain he dared on rod and line
and, excepting when the tarpon made a rush, Dick held his paddle
still and let the fish tow the canoe by the line.
"We've got all the scales we want," said Dick, "and I move we don't
gaff another tarpon. When we have tired this one so it's through
jumping, let's turn it loose. We don't need it to eat and I hate to
feed sharks with such a beautiful creature."
"Sure!" said Ned. "And if it is as tired as I am it will give in
pretty soon or die."
The tarpon grew weaker, his leaps lower and soon the canoe was held
close to him, while Ned even laid his hands on the tired fish.
"Think we can take him aboard, Dick?"
"I think you can swamp the canoe and break the rod, all right."
"I don't mind swamping the canoe and we can take care of the rod. If
you'll take the rod now, I'll hang on to his jaw and take out the
hook, which I can see in the corner of his mouth. Then, if you will
look out for the rod and balance the canoe, I'll slide that tarpon
over the gunwale--"
"And we will all go overboard together," added Dick.
"No, we won't, but just as soon as we have fairly caught him and got
him in the canoe, we'll slide him overboard again."
Dick took the rod, Ned removed the hook from the mouth of the tarpon
and hoisted its head over the gunwale. The canoe canted over until
water poured over its side, and the attempt would have failed but
for the tarpon which, with a blow of its tail, threw itself up in
the air and fell on top of Ned, who had tumbled into the bottom of
the canoe. The sight of Ned hugging the big fish, which was spanking
his legs with its tail, was too much for Dick, who sat down on the
gunwale of the canoe in a spasm of mirth, and of course the craft
was capsized. Ned clung to the fish for a few seconds until his
captive had bumped him with its head and slapped him with its tail a
few times, when he was glad to let it go. He then joined Dick, who
was holding the rod with one hand and clinging to the canoe with
the other, as he swam to the bank.
On the way back to camp Dick had several fits of laughter that made
him stop paddling for a minute at a time and caused Ned to say:
"It's all right to laugh now, but that was my tarpon. I had him safe
in the canoe and if you hadn't tipped us all into the river I'd have
hung on to him."
"I'm awful sorry, Ned, but if only you could have seen yourself,
you'd have had to laugh or bust. Besides, you had your fun. You
caught your tarpon and you wouldn't have done any more if you had
lain in the bottom of the canoe and let it spank you all night."