Читать книгу What Happened at Quasi: The Story of a Carolina Cruise - Eggleston George Cary - Страница 7

No sooner was the camp fire started than Cal went to the boat and brought away a piece of tarpaulin, used to protect things against rain. With this and a lighted lantern he started off through the thicket toward the mouth of the little estuary, leaving Dick to make coffee and fry fish, while Larry mixed a paste of corn meal, water and a little salt, which he meant presently to spread into thin sheets and bake in the hot embers, as soon as the fire should burn down sufficiently to make a bed of coals.

As Cal was setting out, Tom, who had no particular duty to do at the moment, asked:

“Where are you off to, Cal?”

“Come along with me and see,” Cal responded without answering the direct question. “I may need your help. Suppose you bring the big bait bucket with you. Empty the shrimps somewhere. They’re all too dead to eat, but we may need ’em for bait.”

Tom accepted the invitation and the two were quickly beyond the bend in the creek and well out of sight of the camp. As they neared the open water, Cal stopped, held the lantern high above his head, and looked about him as if in search of something. Presently he lowered the lantern, cried out, “Ah, there it is,” and strode on rapidly through the dense undergrowth.

Tom had no time to ask questions. He had enough to do to follow his long-legged companion.

After a brief struggle with vines and undergrowths of every kind, the pair came out upon a little sandy beach with a large oyster bank behind it, and Tom had no further need to ask questions, for Cal spread the tarpaulin out flat upon the sands, and both boys began gathering oysters, not from the solid bank where thousands of them had their shells tightly welded together, but from the water’s edge, and even from the water itself wherever it did not exceed a foot or so in depth. Cal explained that these submerged oysters, being nearly all the time under salt water, and growing singly, or nearly so, were far fatter and better than those in the bank or near its foot.

It did not take long to gather quite as many of the fat bivalves as the two could conveniently carry in the tarpaulin and the bait pail, and as Cal was tying up the corners of the cloth Tom began scrutinizing the sandy beach at a point which the ordinary tides did not reach. As he did so he observed a queer depression in the sand and asked Cal to come and see what it meant.

After a single glance at it, Cal exclaimed gleefully:

“Good for you, Tom. This is the luckiest find yet.”

With that he placed the lantern in a favorable position, emptied the bait pail, hurriedly knelt down, and with his hands began digging away the sand.

“But what is it, Cal? What are you digging for?”

“I’ll show you in half a minute,” said the other, continuing to dig diligently. Less than the half minute later he began drawing out of the sand a multitude of snow-white eggs about the size of a walnut. As Tom looked on in open-mouthed wonder, he thought there must be no end to the supply.

“What are they, Cal?” the boy asked.

“Turtle’s eggs, and there’s a bait bucket full of them. You’ve made the luckiest find of all, Tom,” he said again in congratulation.

“Are they good to eat?”

“Good to eat? Is anything you ever tasted good to eat? Why, Tom, they’re about the rarest delicacy known to civilized man. In Charleston they sell at fabulous prices, when there happen to be any there to sell. Now we must hurry back to the fire, for the ash cakes must be about done and the coffee made.”

After a moment or two of silence, Tom asked:

“Why did you think there was an oyster bank down there, Cal?”

“I noticed it as we came into the creek and I took pains to remember its location. But here we are. See, fellows, what Tom has found! Now bring on your coffee and your ash cakes and your fish, and we’ll feast like a company of Homer’s warriors. It won’t take long to boil the eggs in salt water – ten minutes is the allotted time, I believe, in the case of turtle’s eggs, and during that time we can be eating the other things and filling up with fire-opened oysters.”

With that he threw three or four oysters upon the coals, removing them as soon as they opened and swallowing them from the shell. The others followed his example.

Of course it really was an excellent supper the boys were eating out there under the stars, but sharp-set hunger made it seem even better than it was, and the contrast between it and the supper of bologna sausages and hardtack of the night before, added greatly to the zest of their feasting. They rejoiced, too, in being free, out there in the woodlands, with no dismal rain to depress their spirits and no restraint of any kind upon their liberty.

But they were all very tired after their sleepless night before and their hard-working day, and without argument or discussion, one by one of them stretched himself before the fire not long after supper, and fell asleep. Cal remained awake longer than the rest, though he, too, was lying flat upon his back, ready to welcome sleep as soon as it should come to his eyelids.

Before it came he was moved by jealousy or mischief to disturb the others with an admonition.

“You fellows are recklessly trifling with your health, every one of you, and it is my duty to warn you of the consequences. In allowing so brief a time to elapse between the consumption of food in generous quantities, and your retirement to your couches, you are inviting indigestion, courting bad dreams and recklessly risking the permanent organic and functional impairment of your constitutions – to say nothing of your by-laws, orders of business, rules of procedure and other things that should be equally precious to you.”

“Will you shut up, Cal?” muttered Dick, half awake. Tom remained unconscious and Larry responded only with a snore.

Presently even Cal’s wakefulness yielded, his thoughts wandered, and he fell into a sound slumber.

The woodlands were as still as woodlands at night ever are; the stars shone brilliantly in a perfectly clear sky; the brush wood fire died down to a mass of glowing coals and gray ashes, and still the weary ship’s company slept on without waking or even moving.

Then something happened, and Larry, who was always alert, even in his sleep, suddenly sat up, at the same time silently grasping the gun that lay by his side. He was sure he had heard a noise in his sleep, but now that he was wide awake, everything seemed profoundly still. Nevertheless he waited and watched. Then suddenly he brought his gun to his shoulder, and in sharp, ringing tones cried out:

“Drop that!”

Instantly all the boys were standing with their guns in hand, not knowing what had happened, but ready to meet whatever might come. A second or two later Larry, still sitting and aiming his gun over his bent knees, called out again:

“Drop that, I say! Drop it instantly or I’ll shoot. I’ve got a bead on you. Now throw up your hands! Quick, and no fooling.”

As he gave this command he rose and slowly advanced toward the dory, keeping his gun levelled from his shoulder.

It was difficult to see anything, until Tom thought to throw a bunch of dry brush upon the coals. As it blazed up the boys saw the man whom Larry had held up. He was standing by the boat, his back toward them and his hands, held up in obedience to Larry’s command.

“Now, boys, see what shooting irons he has about him,” directed Larry, who stood with the muzzle of his shotgun less than three feet away from the prisoner.

Dick, Cal and Tom searched the man’s clothes, but found no weapons of any sort there. Tom was thoughtful enough to search his long-legged leather boots, and from each of them he presently drew a murderous-looking army revolver. Without saying a word, the boy sprung the pistols open and emptied them of their cartridges, which he tossed into the creek.

“Now you may let your hands down,” said Larry, at the same time lowering his piece, but continuing to hold it with both barrels at full cock.

“Cal, take care of that box of cartridges I made him drop, and take a lantern and look the boat over. He may have done some damage before trying to steal our ammunition.”

Up to this time the intruder, a huge man of evil countenance, had spoken no word. Now he suddenly took the initiative.

“Who are you fellers, anyhow, and what are you a-doing here?” he asked.

“Curiously enough,” responded Cal, “those are precisely the questions I was going to ask you. Suppose you answer first. Who are you and what are you doing here?”

“That’s for me to know and you to find out,” the intruder replied, truculently.

“Perhaps you’d better reconsider that,” said Cal. “You’re a prisoner, you know, caught in the act of stealing our ammunition, and we are armed. We can chuck you into our boat and take you to a magistrate, who will provide you with jail accommodations for a while. Give an account of yourself. What did you come to our camp for?”

“I come,” he replied with somewhat less assurance in his tone, “to find out who you fellers was, and what you’re a-doin’ here where you don’t belong, and to give you fair warnin’ to git away from here jest as quick as you know how. Ef you don’t, it’ll be a good deal the worse for you.”

“We’ll do nothing of the kind,” broke in Larry. “We’re on land that belongs to Mr. Hayward, a friend of ours, and we’re going to stay here as long as we like.”

“You’ll do it at your own resk, then. You’ve got me hard and fast, but they’s others besides me.”

“Now listen to me,” said Larry, rising and speaking sharply. “We’ve got you hard and fast, as you say, and we could take you to jail or we could hold you as a hostage, if you know what that means; but we’ll do neither. We’re not afraid of you or the ‘others’ you mentioned. We are going to turn you loose and dare you to do your worst. We’ve a right to be where we are, and we’re going to stay here till we’re ready to go. We’re armed, and we know how to shoot. But there’ll be no holding up of hands the next time any of you invade our camp, and there’ll be no challenging. It’ll be quick triggers. Now go! We expect to stay here for three or four days. Go!”

The man moved off through the woods, with a peculiar limp in his left leg, turning about when at a little distance, and shouting:

“It’ll be the worse for you! I’ve give you fair warnin’.”