OFF FOR THE EVERGLADES.
Both Sumner and Worth were by this time quite used to being turned out
of bed while it was still dark, and told that it was morning and time
to make a start. So, when the familiar summons was heard, a few hours
after their evening of fun, they obeyed them, though not without some
sleepy grumblings and protests. The stars were still shining when they
went on deck for a look at the weather, and they shivered with the
chill of the damp night air.
There were faint evidences of daylight, however, and the welcome
fragrance of coffee was issuing from the galley. They felt better after
drinking a cup of it, but did not consider themselves fairly awake
until the sails were hoisted, the anchor lifted, and the _Transit_
began to move slowly out from under Lignum Vitæ.
Just as they were getting fairly under way, a sleepy hail of "Good-bye,
and good-luck to you!" came from the edge of the forest on the key
where the night shadows still lingered. Then, with answering shouts of
"Good-bye, Mr. Haines! Good-bye to Lignum Vitæ!" they were off.
The reason for such an early start was that, with four boats in tow,
even the _Transit_ could not be expected to make very good speed, and
Mr. Carey was anxious to cover the sixty-mile run to Cape Sable before
dark.
For the first three hours Sumner was kept constantly at the helm,
directing the course of the schooner through a multiplicity of tortuous
channels, between coral reefs, oyster-bars, and a score of low-lying
mangrove keys. All this time Lieutenant Carey stood beside him, keeping
track of the courses steered and noting on his chart the position of
the channels, together with the names of the keys, so far as Sumner
was able to give them. The knowledge that the lad displayed of these
uncharted waters, and the skill with which he handled the schooner, so
excited the lieutenant's admiration that he finally said: "I declare,
Sumner, I don't believe there is a better pilot in the whole Key West
sponging fleet than you! How on earth do you remember it all?"
"I don't know," laughed Sumner, "I expect it comes natural, as the man
said when asked what made him so lazy."
"Well," said the lieutenant, "I am mighty glad to have you along
instead of that fellow Bust Norris, though he did intimate that your
ignorance of the reef would get us into trouble. He was greatly cut up
when I told him that, as you were going with me, I should not require
his services, and tried to say some mean things about you; but I shut
him up very quickly. He doesn't seem to be a friend of yours, though."
"I don't know why he shouldn't be," replied Sumner, "I am sure I feel
friendly enough towards him. I suppose it must be because I wouldn't
let him try my canoe the other day, and left him on the buoy that
night. I only meant that as a joke though, and was just about to start
out for him, when I saw a fisherman pick him up."
Here Sumner related the incident referred to, and the lieutenant said,
as Mr. Manton had, that the fellow was rightly served. Then the subject
was dropped, and they thought of it no more.
As they were now in open water, with all traces of land rapidly fading
in the distance behind them, Sumner laid a course for Sandy Key, the
only one they would see before reaching Cape Sable, resigned the
tiller, and invited Worth to try his hand at trolling. The _Transit_
being well provided with fishing tackle they soon had two long trolling
lines towing astern. Worth said he was going in for big fish, and so
attached to the end of his line a bright leaden squid terminating in a
heavy, finely-tempered hook.
Sumner, believing that there would be as much sport and more profit
in trying for those that were smaller, but more plentiful, used a
much lighter hook, baited with a bit of white rag. Worth would not
believe that any fish could be so foolish as to bite at such a bait.
His incredulity quickly vanished, however, as Sumner began to pull
in, almost as fast as he could throw his line overboard, numbers of
Crevallé, or "Jack," beautiful fellows tinted with amber, silver, and
blue, and Spanish mackerel, one of the finest fish in southern waters.
Seeing that Sumner was having all the fun, while he could not get a
bite, Worth began to haul in his line with a view to putting on a
smaller hook, and baiting it with a bit of rag. Suddenly there was a
swish through the water, a bar of silver gleamed for an instant in the
air, a hundred feet astern, and Worth's line began to whiz through his
hands with lightning-like rapidity. With a howl of pain, he dropped
it as though it had been a red-hot coal, and began dancing about the
cockpit, wringing his hands and blowing his fingers.
"Snub him, Worth, quick! or he'll have your line," cried Sumner,
springing to his friend's assistance. "It's a barracuda, and a big
one!" He got a turn around the rudder-post just in time to save the
line, and then began a fight that set the young fisherman's blood to
tingling with excitement. In spite of his smarting fingers, Worth
insisted upon pulling in his own fish; while the barracuda seemed
equally intent upon pulling his captor overboard. Such leaping and
splashing, such vicious tugs and wild rushes ahead, astern, and off to
one side, as that barracuda made, were far beyond anything in the way
of fishing that Worth had ever experienced. For ten minutes the fight
was maintained with equal vigor on both sides. Every inch of slack was
carefully taken in. With the stout rudder-post to aid him, Worth was
slowly but surely gaining the victory, and the great, steely-blue fish
was drawn closer and closer to the schooner.
At length he was within fifty feet, and Worth's flushed face was
lighting with triumph, when, all at once there came a rush of some
vast, white object astern. A huge pair of open jaws, lined with
glistening rows of teeth, closed with a vicious snap, and a moment
later Worth, whose face was a picture of bewildered amazement, pulled
in the head of his fish minus its body.
"Was it a whale, do you think?" he asked, soberly, turning to Sumner.
"No," replied the other, laughing at his companion's crestfallen
appearance, "but it was the biggest kind of a shark, and he would have
snapped you in two as easily as he did that barracuda, if you had been
at that end of the line."
By noon they had left Sandy Key astern, and before sunset they had
passed the stately cocoanut groves on Cape Sable and Palm Point, and
were rounding Northwest Cape. Just at dusk they headed into a creek,
not more than twenty feet wide, and directly afterwards came to anchor
in the deep, roomy basin to which it was the entrance. The basin was
already occupied by a small sloop, and as Sumner's knowledge of those
waters did not extend beyond that point, Lieutenant Cary anticipated
being able to gain some information from her crew. With this in view he
anchored but a short distance from her, and after everything was made
snug for the night, he hailed her with:
"Hello on board the sloop!"
"Hello yourself! What schooner is that?"
"The Government schooner _Transit_, and I should be very glad to see
any of you on board."
"Where are you bound?"
"Into the 'Glades. Will you come over after a while, or shall I go
aboard the sloop? I want to have a talk with you."
"I reckon we'll come over."
"Those fellows don't seem inclined to be very sociable," remarked the
Lieutenant to Ensign Sloe, as they went down into the cabin to supper.
At the same time Sumner was saying to Worth, "I wonder who that fellow
is? His voice sounded very familiar."
When they again came on deck after supper, the night was so dark that
they could not see the sloop, though they supposed her to be lying
close to them.
"Hello aboard the sloop!" again hailed Lieutenant Carey.
There was no answer, nor did several hails serve to bring a reply of
any kind.
"Let's take my canoe and go for a look at those fellows, Sumner," said
the Lieutenant. "They have quite excited my curiosity."
In a few minutes the canoe was afloat, and its occupants were paddling
in the direction of where the sloop was thought to lie. For half an
hour they paddled back and forth, and in circles, being guided in their
movements by the bright riding light of the _Transit_. Once they struck
a floating oar that seemed to be attached to a cable; but they could
discover no trace of the sloop, nor did their repeated hailings bring
forth a single answer.
At length, greatly perplexed by such unaccountable behavior on
the part of the sloop's crew, and nearly devoured by the clouds
of mosquitoes that swarmed above the lagoon, they returned to the
schooner, and thankfully sought the shelter of her wire-screened cabin.