SALVAGE HUNTERS.
ON board the schooner all was excitement and confusion. Nearly awash
as she already was the first big wave had swept her from stem to
stern. Her frightened negro crew had quickly sprung into the rigging
yelling at the top of their voices. Only the solemn, lanky, old captain
remained impassive. He still stood at his post, by the wheel, peering
over his big, horn-rimmed spectacles, sizing up the situation with
shrewd, calculating eyes.
A second wave struck and swept over, and then a third.
"She's sinking," Walter shouted.
Slowly the doomed craft settled down, down until her bulwarks lay even
with the water, then stopped.
"She is not going to sink," Charley exclaimed, as he saw her stop in
her downward course.
Captain Westfield quickly grasped the strange situation. "She's gone as
far as she can," he declared. "She is resting on a shoal. Steer down on
the leeward side of her, Charley, and we will take off the crew."
The other launch captains had been on the watch and had cut loose at
the same time as Charley. Following the "Dixie's" example, they flocked
around to the lee side of the wreck and assisted to take off the crew.
The rescued negroes came aboard, wet to the skin, and fright had given
their ebony faces a peculiar, ashen hue.
The solemn lanky captain was the last to leave the schooner. Before
getting aboard the "Dixie," he made his way up to the vessel's bow and
knocking out the shackle pin let the anchor drop to the bottom; a move
which Captain Westfield watched with a twinkle in his eyes.
"That darkey sure knows his business," he remarked in an undertone to
Charley.
The other launches crowded around the "Dixie," their captains wanting a
consultation.
"The schooner's not in bad shape here," Bill Roberts observed. "There
isn't sea enough to break her up. The owners can get a sea tug and a
steam pump from Tampa, and get her up and keep her afloat long enough
to tow her into the dry dock."
"We might as well all run on into Tarpon now and draw on Curry Bros.
for that thousand dollars," one of the other captains proposed.
"You-alls can't collect dat money now," observed the darkey skipper,
calmly. "You-alls wasn't to get it 'less you got de schooner into de
dry dock."
"Didn't we do our best?" demanded Bill Roberts. "Haven't we got you
nearly there? Haven't we got your vessel into a place where she will
not be lost? Where would your old ship be outside in the gulf in this
gale? She wouldn't have lasted out there as long as a snowball in the
warm place."
"Dat's all true," agreed the darkey captain, "but you ain't carried out
youah part ob de contract. If you white gentlemens had got de schooner
into de dry dock all right hit would hab been worth dat thousand
dollars to mah owners, but now, dey will have to go to de expense ob a
tug an' steam pump, an' dat's going to be a heap ob money. I'se got to
watch out for my owners' interests."
"But we have done our best," Captain Westfield protested. "We have
spent our time and strained our engines, and we ought to be paid for
what we've done."
"Dat's all right," agreed the sable skipper. "I reckon Curry Bros. pay
you for dat all right, but not dat thousand dollars. Dat's too much,
under de circumstances."
For a few minutes it looked as though the wily, ebony skipper would
receive rough treatment from the infuriated launch captains, but the
cooler arguments of the Roberts and Captain Westfield prevailed.
"He has got the law on his side," Captain Westfield said. "We can't
force the payment of that thousand dollars, although what we have done
for the owners is worth many times the amount. I guess the best thing
we can do is to trust to Curry Bros. to do the right thing by us."
"Not for me," declared the captain of one launch. "If we can't collect
that bill, I'll collect a bigger one. That schooner is abandoned. Her
captain and crew have deserted her. I am going to put a man on her and
put in a claim for salvage. The rest of you can join me, or not, just
as you please."
"I am with you," the other fish captains agreed. Bill Roberts wavered
and glanced at Captain Westfield for advice.
"I don't believe such a course would get us anything," the old sailor
said. "These Key West captains are wise to all the salvage laws and
Curry Bros. made their money in wrecking. They would fight any claim
for salvage and they have got too much money for us to fight against."
"Dis white gentleman is telling you-alls the truth," affirmed the
darkey skipper. "Dat ship ain't abandoned. I'se jes' going ashore to
communicate wid de owners. I'se dun dropped de anchor over. An' she
ain't floating helpless at sea."
"All right, you fellows can listen to that nigger if you want to," said
the salvage hunter. "I'm going to take possession of the schooner. If
you are going back, you can take these darkeys I've got in my launch."
His fellow fishermen elected to stay with him but the Roberts boys
decided to return with our party. The negroes in the other two boats
were transferred to the "Dixie," and Bill Roberts' boat, and the two
launches remaining made fast to the sunken schooner.
As soon as the transfer was made the two returning boats headed back
for Clearwater with their cargoes of ebony passengers.
It was nearly dark when hungry, weary, and disappointed, our party and
the Roberts arrived at the Clearwater dock. The rescued negroes at once
scattered to seek food and shelter in the colored quarter of the town.
Their captain, lanky and solemn as ever, departed to the telegraph
office to communicate with his owners.
"You white gentlemen ain't going to lose nothing for de way you-alls
have done," he assured Captain Westfield, earnestly, before he left.
"I'se only a captain an' I'se done got to do what I thinks is foah mah
owners' interests. I allows, though, dat Curry Bros. going to treat you
all right. I'se sorry dose other two white gentlemens is going to try
to make trouble. I'se dun been wrecking foah Mr. Curry foah foaty years
an' I knows all about de salvage laws. Dey ain't a ghost ob a show to
get salvage out ob dat schooner."
It was not until several days after that, however, that our friends
verified the truth of the ebony skipper's statements.
The first proof came with the return of the two launches which had
fastened to the schooner. Their captains were weary and wrathful.
They had hung by the schooner for two days. Then a tug and steam pump
arrived from Tampa and on board the tug was a United States marshal
who curtly ordered them away from the schooner. The schooner had then
been raised and towed into the dry dock. The two captains had at once
entered suit for salvage claims but what the outcome would be even
their lawyers could, or would not, say.
The second proof came in the form of a letter from Curry Bros.,
thanking them for what they had done and inclosing a check for two
hundred dollars. Much to their pleasure they found that the Roberts
boys had received a similar letter and check.
The night the check came Charley got out his note book and pencil and
figured up their accounts and the result brought satisfaction to them
all.
The reef fishing had proved more profitable than they had dared hope,
and for it they had credit slips on the fish house for two hundred and
seventy-five dollars.
The sale of crabs, claws, and oysters--the work of stormy days--had
brought them in another hundred dollars in cash.
Adding to this the two-hundred dollar check they had just received
brought the total up to five hundred and seventy-five dollars.
Deducting the two hundred dollars they owed for groceries and nets,
left them the comfortable balance of three hundred and seventy-five
dollars.
"That's not half bad," Charley observed, "but I think now is the time
for us to quit. It will not be long now before Hunter returns and I
want to be away from here before he gets back. If he succeeded in
working a few more of his sly tricks on us he might put us in the hole
again."
His companions were loath to leave such profitable work but they could
clearly see the wisdom of his plan. So, after some discussion, they
decided that the next day should see their last trip to the reef. Then
they would take their departure for the East Coast and seek whatever
work they could find.
This settled, they retired to dream happily of new scenes and new
adventures.
Their sleep would have been less sound, perhaps, had they known
that Hunter had already returned. Their dreams would have been less
pleasant, if they had seen the silently propelled row boat creep into
their little dock, a slinking figure groping around in the "Dixie,"
and, after a few minutes, the ghostly row boat departed as silently as
it had come.
But they were happily unconscious of these things and slept soundly on
to waken only at their accustomed hour at break of day.
Sunrise found them on the reef fishing busily. But for some reason or
other they did not meet with their accustomed success. Bites came
only at long and irregular intervals. They shifted frequently to fresh
places but with no better result.
"I shouldn't wonder if there was a storm brewing," Captain Westfield
said. "Creatures in the sea, as well as on the land, seem to have a
weather instinct which tells them when a serious change of weather is
coming. It looks bright all around, but it seems to me I can feel a
kind of heaviness in the air that only comes before a storm."
Noon came but the sky remained clear and uncloudy.
"I guess you missed the weather, for once, Captain," Charley observed,
"but I think we might as well start for home, anyway. It's our last day
and we are not catching enough to pay us to stay out any longer."
His companions were willing so the anchor was hauled aboard and the
engine started up.