AMONG THE KEYS OF TAMPA
Christy Passford did not intend to cut the negro's punt into two pieces,
though perhaps there was some mischief in the purpose of the cockswain.
The boatman gave him an evasive answer to his question, which provoked
the young officer. The punt was a very old affair, reduced almost to
punk by the decay of the boards of which it was built, or the bow of the
cutter would not have gone through it so readily. The lieutenant had
simply desired to get alongside the negro's shaky craft in order to
question him, for he was satisfied from the fellow's manner that he knew
more than he pretended to know.
The boatman had come off from the shore of his own accord; he had not
been solicited to give any information, and his movements had been
entirely voluntary on his own part. Yet Christy was sorry that his punt
had been stove, valueless as the craft had been; for, as a rule, the
colored people were friendly to the Union soldiers, and he was not
disposed to do them any injury.
As soon as the officer in charge of the boat saw that the bow was likely
to strike the punt, he directed the cockswain to stop and back her,
which was done, but too late to save the flimsy box from destruction.
The two bowmen drew in the negro without any difficulty; and so
expeditiously had he been rescued that he was not wet above the hips.
He had been caught up just as the bow of the cutter cut into the punt.
"That was well done, bowmen," said Christy, as the boatman was placed
upon his feet in the fore sheets.
The negro was rather small in stature, and black enough to save all
doubts in regard to his parentage; but there was an expression of
cunning in his face not often noticed in persons of his race. The
coast of Florida, south of the entrance to Tampa Bay, as in many other
portions, is fringed with keys, or cays as they are called in the West
Indies, which are small islands, though many of them are ten miles in
length. This fringe of keys extended up Tampa Bay for over twenty
miles; and it was from behind one of them that the punt had put out
when Christy's boat approached. The negro had been obliged to paddle
at least half a mile to come within speaking-distance of the cutter.
"You done broke my boat in two pieces!" exclaimed the boatman, gazing at
the two parts of the floating wreck. "Don't t'ink you is a frien' ob de
colored man widin no limits at all, or you don't smash his boat like
dat."
"That was an accident, my friend," replied Christy. "How much was the
punt worth?"
"Dat boat wan't no punk, massa, and it was wuf two dollars in good
money," replied the colored man, his eyes brightening, and his
expression of cunning becoming more intense, when he realized the
possibility of being paid for his loss.
"If you give me the information I desire, I will pay for the boat,"
added Christy, who proposed to do so out of his own pocket, for his
father was a millionaire of several degrees, and the son had very nearly
made a fortune out of the prizes, from which he had received an
officer's share.
"Tank you, massa; I'm a poor man, and I git my livin' gwine fishin' in
dat boat you done stove."
"What is your name, my man?"
"Quimp, sar; and dat's de short for Quimple," replied the colored person
of this name.
"Where do you live?"
"Ober on de shor dar, in de woods."
"How deep is the water inside of these keys, Quimp?" asked Christy,
pointing to the long, narrow islands which lined the south-easterly side
of the bay.
"Not much water inside dem keys dar, sar," replied the boatman, looking
off in the other direction.
"But there are deep places in there, I am very sure."
"Yes, sar; ten feet in some places," replied Quimp, suddenly becoming
more communicative. "When de wind blow from de west or de norf-west,
dar's twelve foot inside de long key."
"Do you know of any vessels, any schooners, or steamers, inside the bay,
Quimp?" asked Christy, pushing his inquiries a point farther.
"Couldn't told you, massa," replied the boatman, shaking his head.
"Do you mean that you don't know, my man?"
"Dis nigger done got but one head, and it's wuf more to him dan it is to
any oder feller, massa; and it don't do for him to tell no stories about
vessels and steamers," replied Quimp, shaking his head more vigorously.
"I suppose you have a family, Quimp?"
"No, sar; done got no family. De ole woman done gone to glory more'n ten
years ago, and de boys done growed up and gone off. No, sar; dis nigger
got no family."
"Then you don't care to stay here, where you have to work hard for
little money?" suggested Christy.
"Money! Don't see no money. Nobody but white folks got any money; and
dey has next to noffin in dese times."
"I will pay you well for any information that may be of importance to
me, and I will take you on board of a man-of-war farther down the bay,
if you are afraid of losing your head."
"If dis nigger told some stories he lose his head for sartin," added
Quimp, shaking his head, as if to make sure that it safely rested on his
shoulders.
"If you tell me the truth, you shall be protected."
"Wot you want to know, massa?" demanded Quimp, as though he was
weakening in his resolution.
Christy could not help wondering why the boatman had come out from
behind the key, if he was not willing to impart his knowledge to the
officer of the boat, for he could not help understanding the object of
the gunboats in visiting the bay; and the Bellevite lay not half a mile
below the northern end of what Quimp called the long key.
"I want to know if there are any steamers or other vessels in the bay,"
replied Christy, coming directly to the point. "If there are any, we
shall find them; but you can save us the trouble of looking for them."
"How much you gwine to gib me, massa, if I told you?" asked the negro,
as he walked between the men on the thwarts to the stern sheets, in
order to be nearer to the officer.
"I will give you ten dollars if you will be sure and tell me the truth."
"Dis nigger don't never told no lies, massa," protested Quimp. "If you
pay me five dollars for de boat you done stove, and"--
"But you said the boat was worth only two dollars," interposed the
officer.
"Dat's de gospel truf, massa; but it costs me five dollars to get a new
boat, to say noffin about de time. I mought starve to def afore I can
get a boat."
The negro's argument was logical, and Christy admitted its force, and
expressed his willingness to pay the price demanded.
"Five dollars for de boat, massa, and ten dollars for tellin' de whole
truf," added Quimp.
"All right, my man," added the lieutenant.
"Yes, sar; but I want de money now, sar," said Quimp, extending his hand
to receive it; and Christy thought he was very sharp for one in his
position.
"I will pay you when you have imparted the information," he replied;
and, for some reason he could not explain, he was not satisfied with the
conduct of the negro.
He was altogether too shrewd for one who appeared to be so stupid. The
expression of cunning in his face told against him, and perhaps it was
this more than anything else that prejudiced the officer. He took it for
granted that he should have to take the boatman off to the Bellevite
with him, and that it would be time enough to pay him on board of the
ship.
"Dat won't do, massa!" protested Quimp earnestly. "What you tink?
Suppose dar is a steamer in de bay loaded wid cotton, all ready to quit
for somewhar. Do you tink, massa, I can go on bord of her wid you? No,
sar! Dis nigger lose his head for sartin if dem uns knows I pilot you to
dat steamer. You done got two eyes, massa, and you can see it for
shore."
"But I can protect you, Quimp," suggested Christy.
"No, sar! All de sojers in de Yankee camp could not save me, sar. De
first man dat sees me will knive me in de heart, or cut my froat from
one ear to de oder!" protested Quimp more earnestly than before, though
he manifested no terror in his words or manner.
"Very well, Quimp; I will pay you the money as soon as we see the
steamer or other vessel, and then assist you to make your escape,"
replied Christy. "I will go a step farther, and pay you for the boat
now; but I will not pay you the ten dollars till you show us a vessel."
While the negro was scratching his head to stimulate his ideas, the
officer handed him a gold sovereign and a shilling of English money,
provided for his visit to Bermuda and Nassau, which made a little more
than five dollars.
"I don't reckon a gemman like you would cheat a poor nigger," said
Quimp, while his eyes were still glowing with delight at the sight of
the money in his hand.
"Certainly not, my man," replied Christy, laughing at the idea. "Just as
soon as I get my eye on the steamer of which you speak, I will pay you
the ten dollars in gold and silver."
"I don't know much about dis yere money, massa," said the boatman, still
studying the coin.
"The gold piece is an English sovereign, worth about four dollars and
eighty-five cents; and the silver coin is a shilling, worth very nearly
a quarter of a dollar; so that I have paid you over five dollars."
"Yes, sar, tank you, sar. Cap'n Stopfoot fotched over some ob de money
like dat from Nassau, and I done seen it."
"But I can't stop to talk all day, Quimp," continued Christy
impatiently. "If you are going to do anything to earn your ten dollars,
it is time for you to be about it."
"Yes, sar; I will told you all about it, massa."
"No long yarns, my man!" protested the officer, as Quimp seated himself
in the stern sheets as though he intended to tell a long story.
"Yes, massa; told you all about it in a bref. De wind done blow fresh
from de norf-west for t'ree days; dat's what Massa Cap'n Stopfoot say,"
Quimp began.
"No matter what Captain Stopfoot says!" Christy interposed. "Tell me
where the steamer is, if there is any steamer in the bay. We will stop
the foot and the mouth of Captain Stopfoot when we come to him."
"Well, sar, if you don't want to har dis nigger's yarn, he'll shet up
all to onct," replied Quimp, standing on his dignity.
"Go on, then; but make it short," added Christy, finding it would take
less time to get what he wanted out of the negro by letting him have his
own way. "Wind fresh from the north-west for three days."
"Yes, sar; and dat pile up de water so de tide rise six or eight inches
higher," continued Quimp, picking up the clew given him. "High tide in
one hour from now, and de Reindeer was gwine out den for shore. Dat's de
whole story, massa, and not bery long."
"All right, Quimp. Now where is the Reindeer?"
"Ober de oder side ob long key, massa. Dar's more'n four fadoms ob water
under dis boat now, and twelve feet 'tween de two keys," added the
boatman, whose tongue was fully unlocked by this time.
The crew of the cutter were directed to give way, and the negro pointed
out the channel which led inside the keys.