Chapter XIV: Signs of the Sunny South

"Me for a good juicy beefsteak for supper tonight!" exclaimed Nick, after they had found a boatbuilder's establishment, in the enclosed yard of which they could spend the night, their two crafts safely tied to spiles alongside a little wharf. It had been an understood thing that, as a condition of the race, no participant must be guilty of spending a single night under any but a canvas roof. Thus unless in case of sickness, they must not take shelter in a house of any type.

Consequently each night must be spent either aboard their respective motor boats, or on shore, with the canopy of heaven for a roof.

"Well, for once I'm with you, old chap," grinned George; "and since you're such a good judge of prime steak, I appoint you a committee of one to go forth and forage. But remember that it ought to be an inch thick, and a yard or two long! That's the way I feel right now about it."

"Count us in on that deal, too," remarked Jack, looking toward Jimmie, and receiving a quick affirmative nod. "Duplicate the order. And while you're about it, Buster, bring a couple of quarts of nice white onions along."

"Oh! my, you're just making my mouth water!" cried the deputy, working his jaws in an energetic fashion. "Why, I've been half starved on this trip, up to now, and something desperate's got to be done soon, if you want my folks to recognize me when I get back home."

"All right," said George promptly. "Just you drop that plagued cook book overboard the first chance you get, and take a few lessons from Josh. Then we'll have something that's fit to eat. Just make up your mind that I'm going to stand over you when this royal steak goes into the pan, and see that it's done right."

Accordingly Buster was dispatched to market for the party. He made a fairly decent job of it too; at least they certainly did seem to enjoy the steak and onions amazingly; and George even condescended to admit that, under the lash of his reproaches Nick was improving in his cookery.

"I begin to have hopes of you, Buster," he said, as he lay back after disposing of his fourth helping, unable to accept the last bite offered him by the fat boy, who was himself stranded.

"Thanks. I believe myself I am beginning to pick up some. Seems to me I weigh a pound or so more than an hour ago," grinned Nick, sighing as he contemplated the small remains of their feast, "though I do hate to see things go to waste."

"You may say that," remarked George when Buster made such a remark; "but I don't believe it, judging from the smug way your belt hugs you just now. I rather think you are fond of seeing things go to waist."

So they sat around and joked as the evening advanced. And the night passed without any disturbance; although it was a little odd for them to be so close to a city, and hear the various sounds that floated down to them in their enclosure below the bluff.

With the coming of morning they were up betimes. Breakfast taken care of in a little more elaborate manner than customary, on account of having more time, they considered what they should do waiting for the coming of the _Comfort_.

George set out to interview the boat builder, and have a mechanic get to work on his engine without delay. Nick on his part declared he had business in town, and would ask for any mail that might be waiting for the party at the general delivery.

They could give a pretty good guess that the fat boy still had the idea of hunting up another set of those swimming bags, which he hoped to fasten to his shoulders in times of need.

He came back when it was toward noon. One look at his despondent face told Jack the stout lad had met with a grievous disappointment.

"Nothing dong, eh, Nick?" he asked.

"A rotten old town, that's what," grumbled the other, as he disgorged what mail he had fetched with him. "Been to every sporting-goods establishment in the whole of bally old Memphis. What d'ye think, most of 'em didn't know what I meant when I asked for swimming wings? They looked like they thought me loony. One place they used to keep 'em; but the man said that the boys along the river learned how to swim when they was kids a year old, and nobody had any use for such silly things; so he dumped the last pair he had in the ash bin. Just think what measly luck! That was only two days ago. See what I missed by your old machine breaking down on us, George. I might have had that bully pair."

"I was thinking," said Jack, with a smile at the forlorn expression on his fat chum's face, "why you didn't depend on that cork life preserver. You couldn't sink, and if you flapped pretty hard I think you could learn to paddle after a bit."

"Oh! do you really think so, Jack?" cried the sad one, his face lighting up with a new hope. "It's awful good of you to crack your brain thinking up such a bully idea for me. And how silly that I never once jumped on that plan. I'm going to try it the very next time our engine kicks up a shindy, and holds us up."

"Well, you've got another think coming then," burst out George. "For this machinist assures me that after he's through with the engine it will run as smooth and regular as--well, that Old Reliable in the _Comfort_.

"What's the matter wid ours?" burst out Jimmie, his fighting blood up at once. "Sure, we've niver had wan bit of throuble up till now."

"Oh! all right. Consider yourself kicked then, ditto, Jimmie," laughed George.

At three p. m. the _Comfort_ was sighted, sailing along on the current "like a big ship," as Nick declared. The conch shell lured the third crew ashore, and once more the party found itself intact.

Herb and Josh had no thrilling adventure to relate. Their voyage up to date had been a most uneventful one. And how they did listen with wide open eyes when Jack modestly narrated the astounding event that had overtaken himself and the crew of the _Tramp_ since last seeing the others.

"It beats the Dutch," complained Josh, as the story was completed, "how some fellers are lucky. Why, we've got all our lightning rods out, but never a thing happened. We go sailing along like a duck in a mill pond; and it's nothing but cook and stuff with Herb here. I'm sick of the sight of grub, that's what."

"That will do for you," spoke up his skipper. "You know you've begun to feel like a fighting cock, so you said. And Josh, you ate twice as much the last supper we had as I ever knew you to before. I wager that before this trip is over you'll be rid of that feeling of indigestion that's been troubling you so long."

"That's right," declared Jack, cheerfully. "Nothing like a life in the open to tone a chap up, give him a sharp appetite, and make his food agree with him. Why, Josh, the fact is you look a hundred per cent better right now, don't he boys?"'

"Sure he do that," said Jimmie, readily. "Look at the color in his cheeks. And, by the powers, his eye shines like it niver did before. Josh, ye're going to be a well man in a few days more, and kin ate a house widout falin' it, so you kin."

The machinist, under the spur of double pay from the impatient George, made it a one day job. True, he had to stay after dark to finish; but the boys gave him his supper; and before bedtime came he pronounced the engine of the speed boat as in "apple-pie" shape.

So after all they had not lost much time. Indeed, as it would have been out of the question to have started at the hour the _Comfort_ arrived, Jack declared that they had no reason for complaint.

Promptly at eight on the following morning they set out. It was cloudy, and looked as though it might rain before the day was done.

George, anxious to test his rejuvenated engine, shot away at full speed, and as usual they lost him in the distance. Still, Jack had a suspicion that the skipper of the _Wireless_ would not be apt to try for a distance record on this day, as he had done in the past.

They had talked with many negroes and whites while stopping at Memphis. The machinist had taken a keen interest in their race; and tried to give them all the information in his power about the lower Mississippi, between Memphis and Vicksburg. As he was something of a duck hunter he knew considerable about the flooded sloughs skirting the wide river.

He had also hinted about a disturbed condition among the planters. They were having an unusually great amount of trouble with vicious characters, mostly blacks; and several lynching bees had taken place within the preceding fortnight.

George had listened to these stories, and made no remark; but somehow Jack had a little suspicion that from now on the skipper of the speed boat would try to make it convenient to halt sooner, so as to allow the _Tramp_ a chance to overtake them. Company under such conditions was a big part of the enjoyment; and George was, to tell the truth, a trifle timid when it came to trouble from human sources, though reckless in other regards.

Several times during the day Jack took occasion to land on various pleas; so as to have a few words with people they saw gazing at them with open mouths. He even asked questions too, and learned that a reign of terror did actually exist through the country to the south, bordering the big river.

And hence, it caused Jack to smile when just about half-past three he and Jimmie heard the well known signal blast upon a horn, and looking ahead saw Nick standing on a point of land, beckoning wildly.

"Just what I expected," said Jack quietly; but he did not take the pains to explain what he meant to his boatmate.

So the _Tramp_ headed in, to find that there was indeed a creek back of the jutting point, and that the _Wireless_ was snugly moored to the shore there.