THE DISCOVERY.
THE day and night of rest, together with the shark oil, had worked
wonders with the sore feet and, much to their delight, the little party
found that they could travel once more without pain.
After the weary days in the dismal swamp, they rejoiced in the new
country they had entered. A broad, white sand beach made walking easy
and their eyes were delighted with the ever-changing landscape. Soon
they began to come upon signs of human habitation. Now a herd of cows
grazing in placid contentment, and later, a little shack perched upon
the beach and tenanted by a lone hermit of a fisherman. From him, they
learned that they were within fifteen miles of the city of Tampa.
The captain purchased a package of tobacco from the hermit and was soon
enjoying the first smoke he had had in many days.
The boys looked longingly at the fisherman's little sloop bobbing at
anchor in the cove. They would have liked to have bargained for a
passage to Tampa but they had too little money in their pockets to
afford such a luxury.
It was nearly noon and the fisherman, with the ready hospitality of his
calling, invited them to dinner, an invitation they were not slow to
accept.
The meal was simple, but the vegetables tasted delicious after their
steady meat diet, and they reveled in the strong, hot, fragrant coffee.
They did not linger long after eating, for they were anxious to reach
their journey's end.
When about five miles from the friendly fisherman's, Charley called a
halt.
"Listen, and see if you hear anything," he said. "I've been hearing
a queer noise for the last ten minutes but maybe it's only my
imaginations."
His companions stopped and listened.
"No, it isn't your imagination," the captain declared. "I can hear it,
too--a kind of peculiar noise I can't describe."
"It sounds like the soft smacking of a thousand lips," Walter said. "I
wonder what it is."
"We will soon find out," Charley replied. "It seems to come from
somewhere ahead."
As they advanced, the peculiar noise became more distinct. It grew
steadily in volume until at last they stood at what had once been the
mouth of a creek, but which was now closed up, at the entrance, by a
small mound of drifted sand, thus changing the former creek into a
small lake.
"My goodness! Look at it!" gasped Charley, weakly, pointing at the
land-locked pond.
"Jumping Moses," swore the captain, the nearest approach to an oath he
ever permitted himself to use.
The peculiar noise came from the lake's surface. It was literally
covered with tiny, open, gaping mouths.
"Mullet," Charley said, in a hushed voice, "mullet, thousands of them,
tens of thousands of them, penned up in there like rats in a trap."
"And we without a net or boat," lamented Walter, bitterly. "Just our
luck."
"Golly!" exclaimed Chris. "If we only had dese fish in Clearwater we
wouldn't hab to worry 'bout money no more for awhile."
"They must have got caught in here during that gale," Charley pondered.
"The heavy sea drifted up the sand and closed up the entrance so they
could not get out into the gulf again. They can't live a great while
longer in that small body of water. That great number must have about
all the oxygen in the water exhausted by now. Their coming to the
surface to breathe proves that. They seldom do that surface breathing.
Let's have a look at that pond and see what it's like."
A hasty examination showed them that the lagoon was shallow, not more
than three feet in the deepest places.
"Just an ideal place to catch them," Charley declared.
"Yes," agreed Walter, excitedly. "If we only had two or three nets we
could tie them together and drag them across the pond like a seine."
Charley shook his head, decidedly. "That bunch would tear your nets to
shreds if you tried that plan. Why, boy, you don't comprehend how many
fish there are in that school."
"Well, I guess it's no use standing here looking at them any longer,"
said Walter, morosely. "We can't do anything with them, so we might as
well be moving on."
"Yes, and moving fast too," Charley agreed, "but I have a hope that we
can do something with those fish. They are worth trying for, anyway. It
all depends on whether we can get to Clearwater and back again before
they die, as they surely will as soon as all the air is gone from the
water. Come on, let's hurry."
As they hastened along at top speed, he explained his plan.
"The first thing is to get to Clearwater," he declared. "Get the
Roberts boys and their launch and nets, and all the other boats and
nets we can get together, then come back here as quick as we can get
back. Of course, we will have to divide up with the Roberts but they
have been good friends of ours and deserve it. There's enough fish to
pay all of us for the trouble if we find them still alive."
"Go your fastest, lad," said the old sailor, briefly, "you'll find us
right at your heels."
And go fast Charley did. It called forth all the wind and strength of
his three companions to keep up with him.
Just as night was falling, four tired, draggled-looking persons entered
the ticket office of the Atlantic Coast Line in Tampa.
"When's the next train for Clearwater?" demanded one of the youths of
the party, crisply.
"Just gone," answered the agent, briefly. "No more until morning."
"But we have got to get to Clearwater to-night," said the lad,
desperately.
The agent noted the look of dismay on the four faces. "The Northern
flier is due here in half an hour," he said, slowly. "She slows down a
bit for the curve. If it's a matter of life or death you might be able
to board her. I would not advise it, though. She does not slack down
much at Clearwater and it would be pretty risky jumping off."
"Where's the best place to get on her?" asked the lad, briefly.
"Right down by the water tank. It's risky, though."
The lad thanked him, and the four hurried off for the water tank.
They boarded the train safely and stood on the platform hanging on to
the rails as the fast limited tore on in the darkness. They would
have liked to have entered one of the coaches and rested on the
cushioned seats but they were afraid the conductor would insist upon
carrying them on to the next regular stop, a hundred miles beyond their
destination.
It was but an hour's ride to the little town and the flyer barely
slackened speed as she thundered into it. As the lights of the station
flashed into view, they stepped down to the lowest step and jumped.
It was a fearful chance to take, but luck was with them. They landed
in a bank of soft sand, and, although the breath was knocked out of
them for a minute, they escaped unhurt except for Walter. He gained his
feet, wincing with pain.
"I've twisted my ankle," he said. "Don't stop for me. I would only be a
hindrance to you with this game foot. Go on. I'll hunt up a doctor and
have it tended to."
Charley hesitated. "I don't like to leave you this way, old fellow," he
said.
"I don't like to be left, either," said his chum, grimly, "but you
can't do me any good by staying. Go on. Don't waste precious time."
Charley reluctantly obeyed.
Walter stood gamely watching them with a smile on his face until the
three were out of sight, then he hobbled for the main street, his face
contorted with pain. His injury was far more serious than he had
pretended. He was convinced that some bones in his foot were broken but
he had concealed his plight from his chums for he knew they would not
leave him if they thought his injury at all serious.
Followed by the captain and Chris, Charley headed for the little
station not far away. There were a few loungers on the platform and
amongst them he was pleased to see one of the fish-boat captains who
had helped in the towing of the "North Wind."
"Is it you or your ghost?" he exclaimed, when Charley approached him.
"Everyone thought you and your friends were lost in that gale."
"If we are ghosts, we don't know it," Charley laughed. "Say, can we
hire you and your launch for a couple of hours?"
"You can," said the fish captain, promptly. "Fishing is so poor now I
have quit it for a while. Where do you want to go?"
"First over to the island where we used to stay, and then across to the
Roberts camp, if they are at home."
"Oh, you'll find them there all right. Fishing is so poor, now, it does
not pay to go out."
Charley pulled out a five-dollar bill, the only money he had in his
pocket.
"Here's your pay in advance," he said. "We may want to hire you for
two or three days, but I'll let you know about that a little later.
Just now, we are in a hurry. Can you take us right off?"
"Right away," said the fisherman, pocketing the bill with satisfaction.
"My launch is tied up to the dock. Come on if you are ready."
In five minutes our little party was aboard the launch and headed for
the island.
"Reckon there ain't much use going there," the fisherman remarked, as
they sped along. "Someone has torn the cabin down and broken the dock
you built all to pieces."
Charley smiled. Evidently Hunter had been doing all he could to
discourage anyone else from occupying the island.
"We don't intend to live there, any more," he said. "I just want to go
ashore there for a minute."
As the launch drew in close to the shore, he had him stop the engine
and as soon as the keel touched bottom, he jumped overboard and waded
ashore, carrying the launch's lantern.
"Wait here for me. I'll be back in a minute," he directed.
Once up near the cabin, he was not long in finding what he was after.
He and his companions had taken in over a hundred dollars in cash from
their sales of oysters and clams. It was too large a sum for them
to risk carrying around in their pockets and they had not cared to
leave it unguarded in the cabin while they were away fishing, so they
had wisely put it in a glass jar and buried the jar in a safe place,
keeping out only enough for pocket money.
The lad found their little treasure undisturbed and stuffing it into
his pockets he hurried back to the launch.
"Now head over for the Roberts camp," he commanded, as soon as he
climbed aboard.