THE CANOES ARE AGAIN LOST, AND AGAIN FOUND.
In that snug harbor there was so little chance of danger that no watch
was kept, and all hands turning in, after a pleasant evening spent in
smoking and discussing plans, slept soundly until morning. Although the
sun had gone down in a blaze of ominous glory the evening before, and
the breeze had died out in an absolute calm, no one was fully prepared
for the wonderful change of scene disclosed by the morning. While their
land-locked harbor was still as placid as a mill-pond where they were
anchored, it was blackened and roughened by the gusts of fierce squalls
but a short distance from them. The continuous roar of breakers outside
denoted a furious sea, the cause of which was shown by the lashing
tree-tops and the howlings of a gale overhead. The sky was hidden
behind masses of whirling clouds, while after the tropical weather to
which they had become accustomed, the air seemed very cold, though
the mercury had not fallen below 50°. The gale was a typical Norther,
that, sweeping down from Texas prairies, had gathered strength in its
unchecked progress across the Gulf, and was now hurling itself with
furious energy against the low Florida coast.
"Whew! What a day!" cried Sumner, as he emerged from the warm cabin and
stood shivering in the cockpit. "I tell you what, old man, I'm glad we
are in this snug haven, instead of outside."
"So am I," said Worth, who had followed Sumner, and to whom these
remarks were addressed. "I'm afraid canoes would stand a pretty sorry
chance out there just now."
"Canoes! Well, I should say so! They'd be--Great Scott! Where _are_ the
canoes and the cruisers?"
Sumner had just taken his first glance astern, and as he uttered this
exclamation he sprang to the little after-deck, and stared about him.
The three canoes and the two cruisers had been left for the night
attached to a single stout line which was made fast to the _Transit's_
rudder-post. Now they were gone, and not a sign of them was to be seen
as far as the eye could reach.
"If that doesn't beat anything I ever heard of!" exclaimed Sumner, in
bewilderment.
"I should think a jew-fish big enough to take them all might just as
well have taken the schooner, too," said Worth.
"Yes, I expect she will be stolen from under us the next thing we
know," replied Sumner, "and I expect if we ever get our canoes again
we'd better put them into a burglar-proof safe and hire a man with a
dog to watch them nights. I never heard of anybody losing canoes as
easily as we do. Where do you suppose they can have gone to, sir?"
This question was addressed to Lieutenant Carey, who, together with
Ensign Sloe, had been attracted to the deck by Sumner's first dismayed
exclamation.
"I've no more idea than you have," replied the Lieutenant, gravely.
"The jew-fish is not to blame this time, at any rate, for there was
no anchor down that he could get hold of, and this rope has evidently
been cut." Here the speaker displayed the end of the rope that had
hung over the stern, and pointed to the clean cut by which it had been
severed. "It is evident that some human agency has been at work," he
continued, "and I am inclined to connect it with the strange behavior
of the fellows on that sloop; though what their object in stealing our
boats was, I can't imagine. It is a very serious matter to us, however,
and one that calls for prompt investigation. As this wind must have
sprung up early in the night, it is hardly probable that the boats can
have been taken out to sea, and if they were not they must be somewhere
in this lagoon, perhaps concealed in the mangroves, or in one of the
sloughs that empty into it. It is lucky that we have the canvas boat
left, for I should hate to try and navigate the _Transit_ in these
unknown waters with such a gale blowing."
The canvas boat, of which the Lieutenant spoke, was a folding affair
that was stowed under the cockpit floor, and was a part of the
schooner's regular outfit. Although it was very light, it could easily
accommodate three persons, and was a capital thing to fall back on in
an emergency like the present.
Mr. Carey ordered it to be got out and put in shape at once. After
breakfast he and Sumner, with one of the crew to row, stepped into
it and started on their search. They skirted the shore as closely as
possible, both to escape the force of the wind, and that they might
the more carefully examine the dense mangrove thickets that, with
occasional stretches of white beach, formed the coast-line.
The mangrove, which here attains the size of oaks, is one of the most
curious of trees, and in one particular closely resembles the banyan.
Its small yellow blossom, which is eagerly sought by honey-bees, forms
a long brown seed about the size and shape of a cigar. This, falling
off, readily takes root in mud-flats, beneath shallow salt or brackish
water, and shoots up a straight slender stem having numerous branches.
Some of these branches bend downward to the water, sending their tips
into the mud, where they in turn take root. At length the tree is thus
surrounded by a circle of woody arches that soon become strong enough
to support the weight of a man. As the tree increases in height, the
upper branches send down long straight shoots that also take root and
form independent trunks. Mangroves grow with marvellous rapidity, and
quickly cover large areas, where their thickly interlaced, arching
roots hold all manner of drift and sea-weed, until finally a soil
is formed in which the seeds of coarse grasses and other vegetation
sprout and flourish. Thus, in the course of time, an island of dry land
appears and is lifted above the water. In this way the coral reefs of
the Florida coast are gradually transformed into verdant keys, the
mangrove taking up and continuing the work of island building just
below the surface of the water, where the coral insect leaves off. The
mangrove is covered with a thick foliage of small glossy leaves, that
is such a favorite haunt for mosquitoes, that wherever mangroves grow,
mosquitoes are found in countless millions.
Skirting this wonderful mangrove forest, and occasionally penetrating
shallow bayous in which herons, cranes, ibises, pelicans, and curlews
swam and waded, the occupants of the canvas boat searched for several
hours in vain. Finally, as they were on the opposite side of the broad
lagoon from their starting-point, and exposed to the full force of the
wind, Sumner called out that he saw something that looked like masts
on the edge of a distant clump of mangroves. It was no easy task to
navigate successfully through the heavy sea running at this point;
but when they had accomplished it, they were rewarded by seeing the
entire missing fleet piled up in the greatest confusion among the
mangroves, which at this place extended far out into the water. Before
they reached them both the Lieutenant and Sumner were obliged to jump
overboard in water above their waists, to prevent the canvas boat from
swamping in the breakers.
The picture presented by their stranded fleet looked like one of
utter ruin. Sumner trembled for the fate of his precious canoe, and
the Lieutenant wondered if his expedition had thus been brought to an
untimely end. There was a small beach but a short distance away, to
which the sailor took the canvas boat, and then returned to help them
clear the wrecks. One by one the several craft, all of them full of
water, were extricated from the tangled mass, and dragged to the beach
for examination. The three canoes were found to be badly scratched, and
damaged so far as looks went; but still sound and seaworthy. This was
undoubtedly owing to their lightness, and the exceeding care with which
canoes are built. In their construction the question of expense is not
considered; consequently, being built of the best material, by the most
skilful workmen, they are stronger than ordinary craft many times their
size.
Their sails were muddied and torn, and some of their slender spars
were broken; but as most of their cargoes had been transferred to the
_Transit_ before leaving Lignum Vitæ, this was the extent of their
injury. Sumner was jubilant when a careful examination of every part of
them revealed this fact; but Mr. Carey, who was devoting his attention
to the cruisers, looked very grave. Both of them were badly stove, and
it was evident that only extensive repairs could render them again fit
for service.
"Who could have done this thing, and why was it done?" he repeated over
and over again in deep perplexity; while Sumner, equally at fault,
tried to recall whose voice it was that had seemed so familiar when
they had exchanged hails with the sloop.
After emptying the canoes, and hauling the cruisers high up on the
beach, where they were to be left for the present, the party set forth
on their return trip. The Lieutenant went in his own canoe, Sumner in
his, while the sailor in the canvas boat towed the _Cupid_.
As they neared the schooner they saw her people pointing eagerly
towards a bit of beach near the head of the creek through which they
had entered the lagoon the evening before. Looking in that direction,
they saw a white man beckoning to them and shouting, though they could
not distinguish his words.
Readily understanding that he was in distress of some kind, the
Lieutenant and Sumner headed their canoes in his direction. As they
neared him, they saw that he was hatless, and clad only in a shirt and
trousers that were torn and water-soaked. The first words they could
distinguish were:
"Our boat is going to pieces outside, and Rust Norris is in her with a
broken arm."
"Rust Norris!" That was the name Sumner had been racking his memory
for, and his was the voice that had come to them from the sloop on the
preceding evening.