MORE MISCHIEF.
ALL the way back to the island, Charley pondered over the mystifying
occurrence.
"I don't understand it, I don't understand it at all," he said to
Captain Westfield whom he found sitting beside Walter who was still
sleeping soundly. "There is some mystery about this island that puzzles
me. If this sort of thing goes on I'll be converted to Chris' belief in
spirits. One unexplainable thing after another happening so frequently
is enough to make one lose his wits."
"I wouldn't worry my head about it," said the old sailor, placidly.
"The mysterious happenings have all been for our own good. Take this
last one. Walter would surely have died but for that liquor and the
doctor. I don't fear the kind of people or spirits that do that kind of
thing. It's the mean, sly tricks of those fishermen that's bothering
me. I cannot help but worry as to what they will do next. Just how do
we stand now, do you calculate, lad?"
Charley figured rapidly. "Our two nights' fishing makes one hundred and
eighty dollars coming to us. I guess our grocery bills amount to about
thirty dollars, it will cost forty-five dollars to replace the skiff,
that ruined net means fifty dollars more, and repainting the launch
will cost twenty dollars more. Our other three nets are as good as new.
That brings our total expenses up to one hundred and forty dollars,
leaving a balance of forty dollars to our credit."
"I wish it were a little more," said the captain, wistfully. "If it
was twenty dollars apiece, I would vote right now for giving up this
fishing business. I've got a feeling that those fishermen are going
to do us bad yet. They have pretty near succeeded a couple of times
already. Next time we may not be lucky enough to escape. Bill Roberts'
scheme might work all right, but it will take time and there's no
telling what they may do to us while we are waiting."
"I hate to give up," Charley replied, "but I guess it is the wisest
thing to do; so far, they have only injured our property, but there is
no telling how soon they will do some one of us bodily injury, they are
getting desperate. This accident to Walt has made me see things in a
different light. I would never forgive myself if one of you should be
badly injured by those scoundrels as a result of my being stubborn and
refusing to quit. If it were only myself it would be different, but,
I do not want to drag the rest of you into the trouble. Walt's close
shave has taken all the fighting spirit out of me. I agree with you
that we had better quit. But we cannot strike out again with only forty
dollars between us. It will be several days anyway before Walt is able
to travel and we might as well put in as much of the time as we can
fishing. We can notify those fishermen that we are going to leave soon
and perhaps they will let up on their persecutions."
"Where had we better go from here?" speculated the old sailor.
"Back to the East Coast, I guess," answered Charley, wearily. "It's
pineapple season and we will be able to get work in the plantations,
I guess. They only pay a dollar and a half per day and the work is
very hard. But this is the dull season in Florida now and we can't do
better. I don't know as it much matters what we do," he concluded,
bitterly. "We seem doomed to fail in all our undertakings."
"Get that idea out of your head, lad," said the old sailor, gently. "If
one lacks confidence, he will never succeed. You are tired out and your
nerves are all unstrung from worry and loss of sleep. Go take a walk
on the beach and a dip in the surf then come back and catch a nap and
things will look brighter."
His eyes followed Charley's departing form with pitying fondness.
"Poor lad," he sighed, "he hates to give up, and he is thoroughly
discouraged. It isn't often he gets that way though the good Lord
knows he has but little to keep him bright and cheerful. No father, no
mother, and his whole young life a constant battle against hardships
and disappointments."
When Charley returned his gloominess had vanquished. "Nothing like good
salt air and a long swim to get the best of the blues, Captain," he
announced, cheerfully. "I feel fit to do battle with the world again
now. How's the boy coming on?"
"Fine," the captain declared. "I'm expecting him to wake up hungry."
"I'll be fixed for him, sho'," declared Chris, eagerly. "Dis has been
de longest day for dis nigger, he jus' seemed to be in the way an' ob
no account, so he's jus' been fixing up to feed you-all, dat does all
de work, jus' de best he kin. Golly I got a supper dat will satisfy
Massa Walt all right. I got fresh fish fried nice and brown, big fat
oysters from off de rocks roasted in dere own juice, scallops chopped
up fine and made inter meat balls, nice fresh corn bread an' plenty of
coffee."
"It would kill Walt to eat all that," laughed Charley. "Make up a
little oyster soup and we will give him that when he wakes up. Your
feast will not be wasted," he said hastily, as he saw the little
negro's look of disappointment. "You want to remember that the captain
and I haven't eaten since yesterday."
"Dat's so," agreed Chris, brightening. "Hit's all ready when you is."
He had little cause for complaint for when the two had finished there
was little but crumbs left of the delicious meal.
"Now I am ready to sleep," Charley announced, with a sigh of content.
Walt was resting so easily that both Charley and the captain stretched
out on their couches leaving Chris to watch and to call one of them to
take his place when he became sleepy.
The captain relaxed his tired muscles with a sigh of relief.
"There's one thing that's been puzzling me a little, Charley," he
observed, as he settled into a comfortable position. "How did it happen
that Walt caught all those critters while you and I got nothing but
holes."
"I hadn't thought of that," admitted Charley, thoughtfully. "It is kind
of queer; something jumped up, fish all bore down on one net, but,
while that would account for Walt getting them all in his net, it does
not explain all the holes in ours."
It was a trifling circumstance but he puzzled over it a long time after
his companion had fallen asleep.
The sun was shining brightly when the two awoke for Chris, with
unselfish kindness, had watched the night through rather than disturb
them.
They found Walter awake and greatly improved, the swelling in his arm
and hand was subsiding rapidly. He was very weak and was shaky from the
effects of the drugs and liquor but that would soon wear off.
They were hardly dressed when the Roberts arrived in their launch.
They had heard of Walter's accident in Clearwater and had come over to
inquire after him and offer any assistance they could give.
"Too bad," said Bill, regretfully, when the captain told him of their
newly-formed resolve to leave the Island. "We Roberts are sorry to lose
you folks. I wish you could stick it out, but, of course, you know your
own business best. We will not only miss you but we hate to see that
Hunter gang win another underhand victory. With you gone they will take
up their old trade of smuggling in booze and making beasts of their
fellow fishermen."
"It is too bad," the old sailor agreed, "but it is best for us to go
before they do us any more harm. We have more coming to us than we owe
now, but if they got to us with many more of their tricks, we would be
behind with the fish house and then of course we could not go."
"Well," Bill Roberts offered, as they were leaving, "if you are going
out fishing to-night I'll come over and stay with the boy."
Our friends accepted his offer gratefully, for they had been loath to
think of leaving their chum alone with Chris, only. It was true he was
doing finely but there might come a change for the worse and the little
negro would be helpless to get word to them.
True to his promise, Bill appeared before sundown and they were free
for another hunt for the finny prizes.
They were not long in coming upon a promising-looking school of fish
which Charley decided to run.
Walter's absence made a slight difference in the mode of making the
circle, but they got around most of the bunch in good shape.
"I believe we are going to make a good haul," Charley declared, with
satisfaction, as they rested after drumming up. "There's a lot of fish
in the circle and they seem to be hitting the net good."
But his hopes gave way to dismay as he pulled in yard after yard of
his net without getting a fish. Instead the net seemed riddled with a
multitude of holes.
"Get anything, Captain," he paused to shout.
"Nothing but holes," said the old sailor, disgustedly. "Got a hundred
of them."
"Queer," Charley muttered. He gathered up some of the loose webbing
in either hand and pulled gently. The tested part broke as easily as
a spider's web. Every few yards for the entire length of the net he
repeated the operation. The result was always the same. He finished
picking up and, sitting down, waited dejectedly for the old sailor.
"We might as well go home," he said wearily, as the captain pulled
alongside. "My net is rotten from end to end. It would not hold a
minnow."
"Mine is in the same fix," his companion agreed, sadly. "Now, we are
in a bad fix. One hundred dollars' worth more nets to be charged up
against us, and nothing to fish with."
"We are in a bad fix," Charley agreed. "I don't understand it. Those
were both new nets, and of the highest grade of twine. They should have
lasted for at least three months and here they are gone after only a
few nights' fishing. There is something wrong somewhere. Well, come on,
let's go home. There is nothing to be gained trying to fish with these
nets, they will not hold anything."
The trip back to camp was made in silence; they were too utterly
discouraged for speech.
They found Walter sleeping peacefully and Bill Roberts sitting by his
couch reading by the light of a lantern.
The big fishermen listened in wondering sympathy to the recital of
their experiences.
"Those nets should have lasted at least three months," he declared,
confirming Charley's statement. "They are good nets. Mr. Daniels is a
square fish boss and does not give his fishermen anything but the best.
Let's see if we can find out what has happened to them. That will not
make them strong again, but it will be of some little satisfaction."