Chapter XIII

DISAPPOINTMENT--THE LIVE OAK--UNLOADING--FISHING EXCURSION--HAROLD’S STILL HUNT--DISAGREEABLE MEANS TO AN AGREEABLE END

Before sunrise it was manifest that, without a change in the wind, the excursion proposed for that day was impossible; a strong breeze was blowing directly from the east, and brought a ceaseless succession of mimic billows down the river. Hoping, however, that the wind might change or moderate, they resolved to employ the interval in transferring all their articles of value from the boat, to their new home under the oak. And it was indeed fortunate, as they afterwards had occasion to know, that they attended to this duty so soon.

The live oak, under which their tent was pitched, was a magnificent tree. Its trunk was partially decayed from age, and the signs of similar decay in many of the larger limbs was no doubt the cause of its being spared in the universal search along this coast for ship timber; but it was so large, that the four youngsters by joining hands could barely reach around it. Ten feet above the root, it divided into three massive branches, which in turn were subdivided into long pendant boughs extending about sixty feet in every direction, and showing, at their ends, a strong disposition to sweep the ground. The height of the tree did not correspond to its breadth. It is characteristic of the live oak that, after attaining the moderate height of forty or fifty feet, its growth is directed laterally; the older trees often covering an area of more than double their height. Every limb was hung so plentifully with long gray moss, as to give it a strikingly venerable and patriarchal aspect, and Harold declared he could scarcely look at it without a disposition to take off his hat.

At noon Harold proposed to Robert that, the wind having ceased, they should spend the afternoon either in hunting or fishing. "If," said he, "Mary and Frank will allow us to leave them, I propose the first; if not, I propose the last, in which all can join."

"O, let us go together, by all means," said Mary. "I do not like to be left alone in this far off place; something may happen."

"Then let it be fishing," said Harold; "but what shall we use for bait?"

"The old bait that our grandfathers used--shrimp," replied Robert. "I observed on yesterday a multitude of them in a nook of the creek near the river. We can first catch some of these with our scoop net, and then try for whatever may bite. At any rate we can take the offals of the turkey, and fish for crabs."

However, on ascending the river in their boat, and making the trial, they found that the shrimp had disappeared, and they were left with only six or seven caught at a venture.

"This is a dull prospect," said Harold, whose active nature made him impatient of fishing as an amusement, unless the success was unusually good. "If you will allow me to go ashore I will try my luck with the gun."

"Certainly, certainly," was the reply; though Robert added, "You must remember that this is a wild country, Harold, and that we had better keep within hearing at least of each other’s guns."

Harold promised not to wander beyond the appointed limit; and each agreed that if help were needed, two guns should be fired in quick succession.

"Will you not take my double barrel?" said Robert. "It is loaded with duck and squirrel shot, but you can easily draw and load for deer."

"I thank you, no," replied Harold. "It is so long since I have handled anything but a rifle, that a smooth bore now would be awkward."

They put him ashore, then dropped anchor, and began to fish. Mary and Frank had been long initiated into the mysteries of the art. On the present occasion, Robert reserved to himself the shrimp, and set them to the easier task of fishing for crabs. For security he tied the lines to the thowl pins. Crabs, as all upon the seaboard well know, are not caught with hooks, but with bait either hooked or tied to a lie, and with a spoon-shaped net. The crab takes hold of the bait with its claws, and is drawn to the surface, when the net is carefully introduced below. Robert inserted his own hook through the back of a live silver fish, and threw it in the water as a bait for drum. Soon Mary was seen drawing up her line, which she said was very heavy. "There is a crab on it, brother!" she cried, as it approached the surface; "two crabs! two! two!" Robert was near her. He inserted the net below, and the two captives were soon in the boat. "Well done for you, Miss Mary; you have beat us all!"

Here Frank called out suddenly, "I have got one too! O, how heavy he is! Brother, come; he is pulling my line away!"

It was not a crab. Robert and he pulled together, and after considerable play, they found that it was an enormous cat-fish or bull-head.

"This fellow will make a capital stew for tomorrow’s dinner," said Robert. "But hold to your line, Frank, while I put the net under him also. I am afraid of these terrible side fins."

The fish had scarcely been raised over the gunwale of the boat, with the remark, "that is a bouncer!" when Robert noticed his own line fizzing through the water at a rapid rate. He quickly loosed it from the place where it was tied, and payed out yard after yard as the vigorous fish darted and struggled away; then humouring its motion by giving or taking the line as seemed to be necessary, he at last drew it towards him, and took it aboard. It was a drum, the largest he had ever caught, or indeed ever seen. It was as long as his arm, and strong enough to require all his art for its capture.

He loosed the hooks from the floundering fishes, and tried for more. But they now seemed slow to bite. He took only two others, and they were small. Mary, however, caught nine crabs, and Frank two. Becoming weary of the sport, they heard afar off the sharp crack of a rifle.

"There goes Harold’s rifle!" said Robert; "and I warrant something has seen its last of the sun. Let us put up our lines, and meet him at the tent."

The anchor was weighed, the sail spread, and in the course of half an hour they saw Harold at the landing.

"What have you brought?" they all asked.

"O, nothing--nothing at all," he replied, looking at the same time much pleased.

"Nothing!" responded Robert. "Why we paid you the compliment of saying, ’There goes Harold’s rifle! and you may be sure he has killed something."

"If _you_ have not anything, _we have_," boasted Frank. "See what a big fish I caught! Isn’t it a bouncer for a little fellow like me to catch? Why, sir, he nearly pulled me into the water; but I pulled and pulled, and brother Robert came to help me, and we both pulled, and got him in. See, too, what brother Robert caught--a big trout; and sister Mary, she caught a parcel of crabs; I caught two crabs myself. And you haven’t anything! Why, cousin Harold, are you not ashamed of yourself?"

"But you have killed something; I see it in your looks," said Mary, scrutinizing his countenance; "what is it?"

"That is another question," replied Harold. "You all asked me at first what I had brought. Now, I _have brought_ nothing; but I have _to bring_ a deer."

"Then, indeed, you have beat us," said Robert; "but that is only what I expected."

"A deer!" exclaimed the two younger. "O, take us to see it!"

Mooring the boat safely, they hastened with Harold to the scene of slaughter. It was about half a mile distant. There lay a large fat buck, with branching horns, and sleek brown sides. Frank threw himself upon it in an ecstasy of delight; patted, hugged, and almost kissed it. Mary hung back, shrinking from the sight of blood.

"O, cousin Harold," she cried, "what a terrible gash your bullet has made in the poor thing’s throat! Just look there!"

Harold laughed. "That was not made by my ball, but by my knife. Hunters always bleed their game, cousin, or it will not look so white, taste so sweet, nor keep so well."

The boys prepared to carry it home. Harold, taking from his bosom the hatchet, cut a long stout pole, and Robert brought some leaves of the silk grass (the yucca filamentosa, whose long narrow leaves are strong as cords), with which the legs of the deer were tied together. Swinging it on the pole between them, they marched homewards.

By this afternoon’s excursion they were provided with a delightful supply of fish, crabs, and venison. But, alas! they were compelled to be their own butchers and cooks; and there are certain processes through which these delicacies must pass before being ready for the mouth that are not so agreeable. Mary and Frank brought up the fish, and set about preparing them for supper. They laid each upon a flat root of the tree, and with a knife scraped off the scales. This was dirty work for a nice young lady, but it was necessary to the desired end. She pshawed and pshawed at it as the slimy scales adhered to her fingers, or flew into her face, but she persevered until all was done.

In the meantime the fire had been mended, and water poured into their largest pot. When it began to boil, Mary and Frank dropped in the crabs. Poor creatures! it was a warm reception they met with from their native element. Each one gave a kick at the unwelcome sensation, and then sunk into quiet repose, at the bottom of its iron sepulchre. They remained boiling until their shells were perfectly red, when they were taken out, and piled in a dish for supper.