THE MIDNIGHT LIGHT.
"I WISH we could get to fishing right off," Charley observed, "but I
believe it will pay us best to get everything fixed up right first,
then we will have nothing to bother us and we will be able to fish
steadily without any interruptions."
"Issue your commands, boss, and they shall be carried out," Walter
assured him.
"The cabin is the first thing to be attended to. There isn't much
fixing required, as I can see, except to clean it up a little. But we
need something for beds, bare planks make pretty hard sleeping. How do
you suppose some clean dry sea moss would do for couches?"
"Just the thing," Captain Westfield declared. "I like the sweet salty
smell of it. I'll bring some up from the beach, and clean up the house
too, that's my job."
"We had ought to have some kind of a fireplace to cook on," Charley
continued. "It's a little trouble to build one, but there's lots of
rock on the beach and it hadn't ought to take very long."
"Dis nigger's goin' to 'tend to dat," announced Chris. "I'se de cook
an' I knows jes' what kind ob oven I wants. I'se goin' to see if I
can't find something to eat too. We ain't got but mighty little grub
left an' we best save it all we can."
"Well, Walter and I will try to manage the rest of the work, then. Come
on, Walt, we have got to build a small dock and racks for our nets."
There was plenty of driftwood on the beach and with proper tools the
two boys would have taken but a short time to complete their tasks, but
the only implements they possessed were their sheath knives.
"This is a case where necessity has got to be the mother of invention,"
Charley observed. "Let's pick out our driftwood as near of the same
length as we can, that will save some cutting which would be an almost
impossible job without saw or axe. We had better tackle the dock job
first because it's the hardest. Let's see--we will want six stout
pieces for posts, three others for cross pieces, and a lot of planks
for the top."
Although the driftwood was plentiful, it took the boys some time to
find just what they wanted and carry it all to the place they had
decided to have their wharf.
"Now comes the hardest part of the job," Charley announced, as they
dumped their last load on the sand. "That is to get our posts set. I
don't see any way to do but get overboard and work them down by hand."
"Here goes, then," said Walter, beginning to shed his clothing.
The water was not very deep and the boys stood one of the posts upright
and attempted to work the end down into the bottom by swaying the top
back and forth.
"It's no go," panted Walter after half an hour of hard labor which only
sank the post a few inches in the hard sand. "It would take us ten
years to put them all far enough down to hold."
"I expect we will have to give up the dock for the present," Charley
agreed, ruefully. "Too bad. Of course one is not absolutely necessary
but it would save us a good deal of trouble and also wet feet."
"It is lucky that your assistant is a person of great intelligence,"
Walter observed, slyly. "Your methods are primitive, clumsy, hand-labor
methods. This is an age of machinery and brains. Now, if I were boss
of this, job, I would call in the aid of machinery to replace the hand
methods which have been tried and found wanting."
"I resign as superintendent in your favor," Charley grinned. "There is
more honor than pay attached to the position, anyway. It will be a good
opening for you. You will be able to say in future years that you held
at least one position where you were not paid more than you were worth."
"Your words are prompted by intellectual jealousy," declared his chum,
calmly. "However, it is the misfortune of the truly great not to be
appreciated until they are dead. If you will bring the launch in
here, I'll explain my plan so simply that a child, or even you, can
understand it."
Charley, deciding that he was getting the worst of the good-natured
banter, obediently waded out and brought the launch in.
"I don't know whether you are well enough acquainted with engines to
realize it," mocked Walter, who had only made the discovery himself
that morning, "but the cylinder of this engine, as you will see when I
point it out, is inclosed in a hollow iron jacket. This thing down here
is a pump, and you will notice that there is one pipe running from it
down through the bottom of the boat and also another pipe leading into
the jacket. Observe also that there is a short piece of pipe in the
jacket to which is fastened a piece of hose that runs out over the side
of the boat. Do you take in all that?"
"I do," said Charley, briefly.
"All right, though I am quite surprised. Now, when the engine is
running that pump sucks up water through the pipe that goes through the
bottom of the boat. The water is forced through the other pipe into the
jacket and passes overboard again through the short pipe and hose. The
constant circulation of cold water keeps the engine from heating up and
exploding."
"You know more about engines than I suspected yesterday," Charley said,
dryly.
"I know many things that would surprise you," observed Walter, calmly.
"Now, I will show you how simple it is for a brainy person to make
practical use of such things. Now, we'll just fasten the end of that
hose to the end of the post and start up the engine. The force of the
expelled water will wash away the sand from below the post permitting
it to sink."
"Yes, and you will start the engine the wrong way and pump the poor
post out of the water," Charley jeered.
"The superintendent does not stoop to manual labor," replied Walter,
calmly. "I shall simply order my assistant to start the engine."
The joke was on Charley and he owned it by starting up the engine
without further parley.
"Now get overboard and hold the post steady," Walter commanded, and his
chum meekly obeyed.
The idea was really an excellent one. The post sank rapidly and in
an hour all six were sunk to the required depth. Charley labored in
the water with suspicious willingness while Walter, bare-backed, sat
proudly and comfortably in the launch tending the switch and giving
orders with sarcastic comments on the worker's ability. From time to
time, Charley glanced up with a malicious grin at him sitting in naked
state by the engine. That grin made Walter uneasy, for it was not often
that he got the best of his chum in a joke and Charley's meekness was
suspicious.
"Now for the cross pieces. Put them on next," he ordered. "By jove, how
are we going to fasten them though. We have got no nails or hammer."
"This is an age of machinery and brains," quoted Charley. "Surely my
brilliant superintendent can overcome such a little difficulty."
Walter puzzled for a few minutes. "I'll have to give up," he admitted.
"I resign as superintendent. Give your orders, Mr. Super and I'll
execute them." He flopped over the launch's side into the water.
"Ouch!" he yelled. "What's the matter with this water? It smarts me
like fire."
"There's nothing the matter with the water," grinned Charley, "it is
just nice, cool, clear sea water. I am enjoying it. The salt in it does
not agree with a badly sunburned back, however."
"My! I should say it doesn't," agreed his chum, as the reason for the
smarting dawned upon him. "Now laugh. Go ahead, don't mind my feelings.
I am not sensitive."
And thus with good-natured banter, the two boys made light work of
their heavy, disagreeable task.
Charley solved the lack of nails and hammer, by plaiting some stout
ropes of cocoanut fiber with which he securely bound the cross pieces
in place. After that it was only a few minutes' task to lay on the
planks for the top and their wharf was completed.
The net racks gave them less trouble, as they consisted merely of two
poles about four feet apart set up on posts.
By noon, the boys' tasks were completed and they repaired to the cabin
where they found that the captain and Chris had not wasted their time.
The cabin had been made neat and clean and in each corner was a great
heap of dry fragrant sea moss upon which their blankets were already
spread.
Just outside the door, Chris had cunningly constructed a kind of rude,
flat-topped stove out of rocks, and the fragrant odors coming from it
caused the boys to quicken their steps.
"My, Chris, if that dinner tastes as good as it smells, it will be all
right," Charley said.
The little negro beamed with delight. "Trust dis nigger to git plenty
to eat," he grinned. "Don't make no difference if dat poor white trash
steals all the grub, dis nigger can get up a good meal all right. I'se
just got up a kind of feast to-day 'cause hit's our first meal on de
Island."
And a feast it truly was. First came a thick soup or stew that was
delicious. "What's this, Chris?" Charley asked, as he smacked his lips
over the first spoonful. "It's a new one on me."
"Dem's stewed scallops. I find lots of dem on the flats," declared the
delighted little negro. "Dey are powerful hard to open an' clean, but
dey sure beat oysters all hollow for tastiness. Don't eat too much ob
dem, Massa Chas, 'cause dar's lots ob other things comin' yet."
The next dish was a large fish baked until the juicy meat was dropping
from the bones. With it came the tender, baked bud of a palmetto
cabbage, and great red, boiled claws of stone crabs. To top off with,
there were golden brown, feather-weight flap-jacks with syrup and
white, milky cocoa plums.
The little party ate like cannibals, while Chris urged more upon them,
tickled with the success of the feast he had prepared.
"I hate to quit, but I haven't got room for another mouthful," Charley
declared, at last. "Come on, Walt, stop it. There is more work to do
this afternoon and I don't want to do it all by myself. Besides you are
going to get another meal to-night."
"That's right, begrudge me a few mouthfuls of food," grumbled Walter as
he rose slowly and painfully from the table.
The afternoon was busily spent in putting their nets on the racks,
overhauling the skiffs, and making themselves more familiar with the
launch's engine. Night found all hands tired and sleepy. As soon as
supper was over, they stretched out on their soft spicy couches ready
to get back the sleep they had lost the night before.
At midnight Charley sat up suddenly wide awake. For a moment he sat
still and alert. Everything was quiet. Yet he knew that something
unusual had occurred to rouse him from his sound slumber. This sudden
awakening was a habit bred by his adventurous life amid the perils of
sea and forest. Silently he waited, every nerve alert, to sense what
had happened. At last it came again, a deep, mellow, horn-like sound.
One, two, three times it vibrated on the still night air, then came
silence again.
Softly he crept over and awakened Walter and the captain. "I don't know
what's the matter, but some one is signaling on a conch shell," he
explained, "and the sound is not far off."