CROSSING THE 'GLADES WITHOUT SEEING THEM.
They had an early supper, so as to be all ready for a start whenever
their jailers should see fit to make one. By sunset their blankets were
rolled up, and they were impatiently awaiting some signal; but none
came until darkness had fully set in. Then once more from the direction
of the water came the now familiar cry of a screech-owl. It was
answered from several points about the camp, which showed their Indian
guards to be still on duty. As Quorum had been allowed to go freely to
the shore for water during the day, the Lieutenant now told him to go
down again and discover the meaning of the signal. He returned a minute
later with the news that Ul-we was waiting for him and the cooking
utensils, and that the canoes for the other passengers would arrive
with the setting of the new moon, which hung low in the western sky.
So Quorum left them, as on the previous night. As the silver crescent
of Halissee, the night timepiece of the Everglades, sank from sight,
the others went to the shore, carrying their blankets with them. There
they found two canoes, apparently manned by the same silent crews of
the evening before, awaiting them.
As they shoved off and plunged once more into the trackless 'Glades,
the Lieutenant turned for a look at the island. He could distinguish
its black outlines from end to end, and it was a very small one. This
overthrew the only theory they had formed concerning their close
imprisonment, and left him more than ever puzzled as to its object.
Hour after hour the long poles were steadily wielded by the silent
Indians, who seemed not to know fatigue nor to require rest. All
through the night the heavy dugouts pursued their steady way, crashing
through the crisp bonnets, and bending down the long grasses, that flew
up with a "swish" behind them. It was a marvel to the passengers that
the channels, followed as unerringly by the dusky canoemen as though it
had been daylight, always led into one another. Their own experience
had been that, even with sunlight to guide them, half the channels they
had attempted to follow proved blind leads. But with the Indians it was
never so.
Through the night Lieutenant Carey pondered his situation, and studied
their course by the stars. These told him that it was a little to the
north of east, the very one he would have chosen, and in this respect
the situation was satisfactory. But what information was he gaining
concerning the Everglades, their resources, and present population?
About as little as was possible for one who was actually passing
through them. Could he obtain any more? Evidently not, under the
circumstances. Long and deeply as he pondered the subject, he could
not think of a single feasible plan for altering the existing state of
affairs. He was compelled to acknowledge himself completely outwitted
by the simple-minded sons of the forest into whose power he had so
curiously fallen. "If I could only get at them, and talk to them, and
explain matters to them!" he said aloud; and the sailor answered:
"It wouldn't do no good, sir. There's none in the world so obstinate as
Injins and Malays. Once they gets an idea inside their skulls, all the
white talk you could give 'em wouldn't drive it out. Fighting is the
only argument they can understand; and, if you say the word, I'll have
these two heathen pitched overboard in no time."
"No," said the Lieutenant, "it wouldn't do any good, and my orders are
to treat such Indians as I may meet with all possible friendliness. I
only wish I could meet with some besides these two young automatons,
but there does not seem to be any prospect of it."
At the same time Sumner and Worth, crouched snugly among their blankets
in the bottom of the other canoe, were also talking of their strange
situation.
"Do you suppose any other two fellows ever had such queer times on a
canoe trip as we are having?" asked Worth.
"Indeed I do not," replied Sumner. "And this is the very queerest part
of it. Here we are still on a canoe cruise, without our own canoes,
without knowing where we are going, and without having anything to do
with the management of the craft we are cruising in. It will be a queer
experience to tell about when you get back to New York, won't it?"
"Yes, indeed, it will, though New York seems so very far away that
it is hard to realize that I shall ever get there again. If we could
only see an Indian village, though! It seems too bad to be going right
through an Indian country and yet see nothing of its people."
"Oh, well, we are not through with the 'Glades yet, and you may still
have a chance to see plenty of Indians."
In spite of Sumner's hopefulness, Worth's wish did not seem any nearer
being gratified four days from that time than it did then. Each
night's journey was a repetition of the first, except that they grew
shorter with the growing moon. The Indians refused to travel except in
darkness, and never came for their passengers until after the moon had
set. Each day was spent in a comfortable camp, to which they were so
closely confined that they could learn nothing of their surroundings.
These camps were always located on small islands, and were always
reached before daylight.
Quorum always arrived at the camping-place some time in advance of the
others, and he always found the canoes and the cruiser awaiting him.
From them he was allowed to take whatever he thought the party would
need, but after that first night the boats invariably disappeared
before the others reached them.
Sumner said this was a trick the canoes had learned early on the
cruise, and they had probably taught it to the other boat.
Who caused their disappearance or where they went to, none of them
knew; and but for Quorum the owners of the several craft would have
heard nothing of their whereabouts or welfare.
During this strange journey, as they were unable to do any hunting or
foraging for themselves, Quorum was obliged to exchange so many of
their stores for fresh meat, fruit, and vegetables, that he finally
announced them to be nearly exhausted.
At length, one very dark night, the passengers, who were half dozing in
the bottoms of the canoes, became conscious of a change. The darkness
all at once grew more intense, until they could barely distinguish the
forms of the Indians in the bow and stern of their respective boats.
A rank odor of decaying vegetation filled the air, while the swish of
grass and bonnets was no longer heard. They seemed to be moving more
swiftly and easily than usual. Finally, when they landed, it did not
seem as though they were on an island; and as they made their way
towards the light of the camp-fire, about which Quorum was already
busy, they suddenly realized that it was reflected from a background of
pine-trees.
"Hurrah, boys!" shouted Lieutenant Carey; "there is a sign that our
trip is nearly ended. Pine-trees don't grow in the 'Glades, and
therefore we must be somewhere near the coast. I can't say that I am
sorry, for the trip has been a most disappointing one to me. It has
been a decidedly unique and remarkable one, though--has it not? I
wonder how many people will believe us when we say that we have crossed
the entire width of the Everglades without learning anything about
them, and almost without seeing them? When we add that we have passed
dozens of Indian villages, and yet have not seen an Indian village;
have been surrounded by Indians, but cannot describe their appearance;
have come all the way by water, and brought our own boats with us,
and yet have not set eyes on our own boats since the day we entered
the 'Glades--I am afraid that we shall be regarded much as the old
woman regarded her sailor son when he told her that he had seen fish
with wings and able to fly. In fact, I am afraid they will doubt our
veracity. How I am going to get up any kind of a report to send to
Washington, I am sure I don't know. By-the-way, Quorum, were our canoes
here when you landed?"
"No, sah, dey wasn't; an' I is troubled in my min' frum worryin' about
dem. I is ask dat feller Ul-we, but he don't say nuffin.' 'Pears like
he done los' he tongue, like de res' ob de Injuns. De wust ob hit is,
sah, dat de grub jes about gin out, an' I is got er mighty pore 'pology
fer a breakfus."
So excited were our explorers over their new surroundings, and over
this report that their boats were again missing, that instead of
turning in for a nap, as usual, they sat round the fire and waited
impatiently for daylight. Sumner was the most uneasy of the party, and
every few minutes he would get up and walk away from the firelight, the
better to see if the day were not breaking.
On one of these occasions he was gone so much longer than usual that
the others were beginning to wonder what had become of him. All at once
they heard him shouting from the direction of the place at which they
had landed:
"Hello! in the camp! Come down here, quick! I've got something to show
you."