PINEAPPLES AND SPONGES.
The next instant Worth uttered a startled cry and very nearly dropped
his torch, as a mullet, leaping from the water, struck him on the side
of the head, and fell flapping into the canoe.
"Never mind a little thing like that," cried Sumner. "Hold your torch a
trifle lower. That's the kind!"
Now the mullet came thick and fast, attracted to the bright light like
moths to a candle-flame. They leaped into the canoe and over it, they
fell on its decks and flopped off into the water, they struck the
two boys until they felt as though they were being pelted with wet
snowballs; and at length one of them, hitting the torch, knocked it
from Worth's hand, so that it fell hissing into the water.
The effect of this sudden extinguishing of the light was startling. In
an instant the fish ceased to jump, and disappeared, while the recent
noisy confusion was succeeded by an intense stillness, only broken
by an occasional flap from one of the victims to curiosity that had
fallen into the canoe.
"Well, that is the easiest way of fishing I ever heard of," remarked
Worth, as they stepped ashore, and turning the canoe over, spilled out
fifty or more fine mullet. A dozen of them were cleaned, rubbed with
salt, and put away for breakfast. Then the tired canoemates turned in
for their first night's sleep in camp.
Sumner's eyes were quickly closed, but Worth found his surroundings so
novel that for a long time he lay dreamily awake watching the play of
moonlight on the rippling water, listening to the splash of jumping
fish, the music of little waves on the shell-strewn beach, and the
ceaseless rustle of the great palm leaves above him. At length his
wakefulness merged into dreams, and when he next opened his eyes it was
broad daylight, the sun had just risen, and Sumner was building a fire.
"Hurrah, Worth! Tumble out of bed and tumble into the water," he called
at that moment. "There's just time for a dip in the briny before this
fire'll be ready for those fish." Suiting his actions to his words, he
began pulling off his clothes, and a minute later the two boys were
diving into the cool water like a couple of frisky young porpoises.
Oatmeal and syrup, fresh mullet, bread-and-butter (which they had
brought from home), and coffee, formed a breakfast that Sumner declared
fit for a railroad king.
The sun was not more than an hour high before they were again under
way, this time working hard at their paddles, as the breeze had not yet
sprung up. Having left their first camp behind them, they felt that
their long cruise had indeed begun in earnest.
For the next three days they threaded their way, under sail or paddle,
among such numberless keys and through such a maze of narrow channels,
that it seemed to Worth as though they were entangled in a labyrinth
from which they would never be able to extricate themselves. Whenever
a long sand-spit or reef shot out from the north side of one key, a
similar obstruction was certain to be found on the south end of the
next one. Thus their course was a perpetual zigzag, and a fair wind
on one stretch would be dead ahead on the next. Now they slid through
channels so narrow that the dense mangroves on either side brushed
their decks, and then they would be confronted by a coral reef that
seemed to extend unbrokenly in both directions as far as the eye could
reach. Worth would make up his mind that there was nothing to do but
get out and drag the canoes over it, when suddenly the _Psyche_, which
was always in the lead, would dash directly at the obstacle, and skim
through one of the narrow cuts with which all these reefs abound.
For a long time it was a mystery to Worth how Sumner always kept in
the channel without hesitating or stopping to take soundings. Finally
he discovered that it was by carefully noting the color of the water.
He learned that white water meant shoals, that of a reddish tinge
indicated sand-bars or reefs, black water showed rocks or grassy
patches, and that the channels assumed varying shades of green,
according to their depth.
They camped with negro charcoal-burners on one key, and visited an
extensive pineapple patch on another. Having heard this fruit spoken of
as growing on trees, Worth was amazed to find it borne on plants with
long prickly leaves that reached but little above his knees. The plants
stood so close together, and their leaves were so interlaced, that he
did not see how any one ever walked among them to cut the single fruit
borne at the head of each one; and when he tried it, stepping high to
avoid the bayonet-like leaves, his wonder that any human being could
traverse the patch was redoubled.
"I would just as soon try to walk through a field covered with cactus
plants," he said.
"So would I," laughed Sumner, "if I had to walk as you do. In a
pineapple patch you must never lift your feet, but always shuffle
along. In that way you force the prickly leaves before you, and move
with their grain instead of against it."
Although the crop would not be ready for cutting much before May, they
found here and there a lusciously ripe yellow "pine," and after eating
one of these, Worth declared that he had never before known what a
pineapple was. He did not wonder that they tasted so different here
and in New York, when he learned that for shipment north they must be
cut at least two weeks before they are ripe, while they are hard and
comparatively juiceless.
At the end of three days an outgoing tide, rushing like a mill-race,
swept the canoes through the green expanse of "The Grasses," that
looked like a vast submerged meadow, and into the open waters of the
Bahia Honda, or, as the reef-men say, the "Bay o' Hundy." Here they
first saw spongers at work, and devoted an entire day to studying their
operations.
Worth had always supposed that sponges were dived for, but now he
learned his mistake. He found that in those waters they are torn from
the bottom and drawn to the surface by iron rakes with long curved
teeth attached to slender handles from twenty to thirty feet in length.
The sponging craft are small sloops or schooners, each of which tows
from two to six boats behind it. When a sponge bed is discovered, two
men go out in each of these boats. One of them sculls it gently along,
while the other leans over the gunwale with a water-glass in his hands,
and carefully examines the bottom as he is moved slowly over it. The
water-glass is a common wooden bucket having a glass bottom. This is
held over the side of the boat so that its bottom is a few inches
below the surface of the water, or beyond the disturbing influence of
ripples. With his head in this bucket, the sponger gazes intently down
until he sees the round black object that he wants. Then he calls out
to the sculler to stop the boat, and with the long-handled rake that
lies by his side secures the prize. It is black and slimy, and full of
animal matter that quickly dies, and decomposes with a most disgusting
odor. To this the spongers become so accustomed that they do not mind
it in the least, and fail to understand why all strangers take such
pains to sail to windward of their boats.
When the deck of a sponge boat is piled high with this unsavory spoil
of the sea, she is headed towards the nearest key on which her crew
have established a crawl, [B] and her cargo is tossed into it. The
crawl is a square pen of stakes built in the shallow water of some
sheltered bay, and in it the sponges lie until their animal matter
is so decomposed that it will readily separate from them. Then they
are stirred with poles or trodden by the feet of the spongers until
they are free from it, when they are taken from the crawl, and spread
on a beach to dry and whiten in the sun. When a full cargo has been
obtained, they are strung in bunches, and taken to Key West to be
sold by the pound at auction. There they are trimmed, bleached again,
pressed into bales, and finally shipped to New York.
[B] Crawl is a corruption of corral, meaning a yard or pen.
Sponges are of many grades, of which the sheep's wool is the finest,
and the great loggerheads the most worthless. As spongers can only work
in water that is smooth, or nearly so, half their time is spent in
idleness; and though they receive large prices for what they catch, the
average of their wages is low.
One hot afternoon at the end of a week found our canoemates half-way
up the reef, and approaching a key called Lignum Vitæ, which is for
several reasons one of the most remarkable of all the keys. It is a
large island lifted higher above the surface of the water than any of
the other keys, and it contains in its centre a small fresh-water lake.
It is covered with an almost impenetrable forest growth, and concealed
by this are ancient stone walls, of which no one knows the origin or
date.
Sumner had told Worth so much concerning this key as to arouse his
curiosity, and they both looked forward with interest to reaching it.
All day they had seen it looming before them, and when they finally
dropped sail close beside it, Worth proposed that they take advantage
of the remaining daylight to make a short exploration before unloading
their canoes and pitching camp. To this Sumner agreed, and as they
could not drag the laden boats up over the rocky beach, they decided
to anchor them out and wade ashore. So the _Psyche's_ anchor was flung
out into the channel, the _Cupid_ was made fast to her, and a light
line from its stern was carried ashore and tied to a tree. Then, taking
their guns with them, the boys plunged into the forest.
When, an hour later, they returned from their exploration, bringing
with them a brace of ducks and half a dozen doves that they had shot,
they gazed about them in bewildered dismay. The canoes were not where
they had left them, nor could any trace of them be discovered.
[Illustration: "THE CANOES ARE GONE!"]