The Wreck of the Red Bird: A Story of the Carolina Coast

"GIVE HIM A VOLLEY AND THEN CHARGE!"

It was no sooner said than done. Standing at less than twenty feet distance, the boys threw one club each at the intruder, and then, snatching other clubs, one in each hand, rushed upon him. Rising, he knocked Jack down, but was brought to his own knees by Charley's club. At that moment the man's dog, a surly-looking brute, seized Charley, and it required the combined efforts of all three boys—for Jack was up again in an instant—to beat the creature off. While they were engaged in this, the dog's master, finding himself outnumbered and overmatched, took to his heels and the camp was clear, for the dog quickly followed, howling with pain.

"Are you much hurt, Charley?" was the first question asked when the enemy's retreat left the boys free to think of themselves.

"I'm pretty severely bitten," was the reply, "but luckily it's in the fleshy part of my thigh, and the flesh isn't torn. One of you must have struck very quickly, or I shouldn't have got off so easily. See," he continued, when the fire had been stirred into a blaze, "the brute buried his teeth, but let go again without shaking me."

"Yes, I saw him jump at you, and tried to hit him before he got hold," said Ned. "I must have struck him just as he seized you—half a second too late to save you entirely, but I hit him fairly on the head."

"And he had to let go of me to howl," said Charley, who, in spite of his pain, was in good spirits after the exciting encounter. "By the way, are you hurt, Jack?"

"I've an earache," said Jack, turning his head and showing an inflamed and swollen ear; "but I'm glad that fellow didn't hit me fairly in the face, as he meant to do. It would have settled the question of photographs for me for all time, I think. Why, if I had caught that blow on the face my nose would have been distributed over the rest of my countenance as evenly as his is."

"You look solemn, Ned," said Charley; "are you hurt too?"

"No, but I'm thinking."

"Well, out with your thought then. What is it?"

"Only that we're fairly in for it now."

"In for what?"

"War."

"War?"

"Yes. You don't suppose we're going to have peace with the squatters now, do you? They'll attack us in force as sure as sunrise and sunset."

"Well, it's my opinion that one of them, at least, has got as much of us as he wants," said Charley.

"Very likely," answered Ned; "but now he'll want to give us something, by way of returning the compliment. He'll bring all his friends with him next time."

"But I don't see what we've done that they should interfere with us."

"Oh! don't you? Well, that's because you don't look at the matter with their eyes. You see, when we first came here they didn't object. They took a fancy to our coffee and flour and bacon, and the rest of it, and helped themselves, but they didn't in the least object to us or our presence. Having got all we had for them to steal, they let us alone. But when they found that we were getting rice out of what they called their field, it put a new face on the matter, and they objected. You baffled the one that got after you, and he hurt himself trying to catch you. That was another offence on our part, and so this fellow that was here to-night determined to get even with us by burning us out. He has been pretty badly whipped, and he isn't likely to forget it. He'll bring all his friends here and we must take care of ourselves, for we shan't get any coddling, I can assure you, if we fall into their hands."

"You are right, Ned," said Jack; "and now we must really take care of ourselves. It's nearly morning, and we may as well get breakfast at once and get an early start. We must be ready to receive those fellows when they come."

A CAMP-FACTORY.

Breakfast was finished before daylight that morning, and when it was over the three companions resumed work upon their fortification. Ned stopped long enough to catch some shrimps for dinner, but with that exception there was no break at all in the morning's work, and dinner-time found the boys tired as well as hungry. The afternoon was spent quite as industriously, and when night came the fort, though still incomplete, was well advanced toward security.

"Now," said Ned, when supper-time came, "we have had rather too much of shrimps, I think, and of oysters too. I'm going out with the net to-night to catch some fish for to-morrow. What do you two propose to do?"

"I'm going to make some more clubs," said Charley. "We've something like a fort now, and the next thing is to provide an abundance of ammunition."

"By the way," said Ned, "why can't we make some better arms?"

"Of what sort?" asked Jack.

"Well, bows and arrows, for example. We can make arrow-heads out of some of our copper bolts, and they are weapons not to be despised—what are you smiling at, Charley?"

"Oh! nothing; I was only wondering what good bows and arrows would do without bowstrings."

Ned's countenance fell; then he joined in the smile of his companions, and admitted that his little plan had been very imperfectly worked out in his head.

"I might make some blow-guns out of the canes," he said, "but they're not worth making. I have killed birds with them, but I've tried them thoroughly and they won't shoot hard enough to drive an arrow-head half an inch into a pine plank; so they would be worthless for our purposes."

"Yes," said Jack, "I think we may make up our minds that we've got to get on with no better weapons than our clubs for general use, with the axe, hatchet, and digging tools to fall back upon as a last resort. To use such things means to kill, and of course we don't want to do that."

"No, of course not. We only want to protect ourselves and make these squatters let us alone. We don't want to do the poor creatures any unnecessary harm."

Saying this, Ned took the net and went away in search of fish. When he had gone Jack said:

"Charley, let's build a platform to fight from."

"I don't quite understand you," said Charley.

"Well, you see the stockade is ten feet high, and slopes outward, and so it won't be easy for anybody to scale it; but it isn't impossible, particularly if one has time to put up a pole or two to climb on. My notion is that we must be prepared to interfere with anybody who tries to do that. We must build a sort of platform all around inside the stockade, about six feet from the ground; it needn't be any thing more than a row of poles laid against the stockade and supported by some forked stakes. We can then stand up on these poles and look over the top of the stockade. If anybody tries to climb up, we can beat him back from there, while if we were on the ground inside here, we should be nearly helpless. It won't take you and me more than half an hour or so to rig the thing up."

"That's a good idea," replied Charley; "and we need the platform more to-night than we shall at any time hereafter."

"Why?"

"Because if those fellows mean to attack us they will do so at once. If we escape to-night we're not likely to be attacked at all."

"I don't know about that," answered Jack. "On the contrary, I think they'll let us alone to-night, because they'll expect us to be on the lookout for them. They have no special fancy for getting their heads broken, and when they come they will try to take us by surprise. At least that's my notion."

"Then you think they are likely to attack us later this week or next?"

"Yes, at any time except to-night. They will wait for us to make up our minds that they aren't coming at all."

"Well—that fabula docet that we mustn't make up our minds in that direction at all."

"Exactly. We must be as alert two weeks hence as we are now—if we're here so long. But come, let's get to work."

Cutting some forked stakes, which did not need to be driven far into the ground, because they were to be leant toward the sloping stockade, the boys placed them in position, and laid poles from one to another until the line stretched all the way around the enclosure. It was easy to walk upon these poles all the way around, and when standing upon them the boys' shoulders were above the top of the stockade.

Near the water, on each side, an entrance to the stockade had been made, and a movable piece of timber, with a notch in it and a brace behind, served to close each of these gates; and when thus closed and fastened from the inside, the gates were as secure as any other part of the fortress.

Jack's prediction that the enemy would not appear on Monday night was verified. The whole of that week, indeed, was passed in complete quietude.

Having made their fortress reasonably secure, the boys resumed work upon the boat on Monday and continued it throughout the week; but they gave only one half of each day to that task, devoting the other half to the work of strengthening their fort. The posts, as we know, were originally set six inches apart for the sake of hurrying the work, but this was not intended to be a permanent arrangement. As fast as they could the boys filled up the spaces thus left, and by Saturday night the fort was complete, so that its inmates felt entirely confident of their ability to beat off any attack the negro squatters might choose to make.

Meantime the boat approached completion, though there was, perhaps, a week's work, or a little less, still to be done upon her.

"We must caulk her seams," said Ned on Sunday, as the boys sat chatting round their fire, "with moss instead of oakum, and then we'll coat her all over with pitch."

"By the way," answered Charley, "we've got to make the pitch. Do you know how, Ned?"

"Not very well," replied Ned, "but I think we can make out."

"I know," said Jack; "I've seen tar made in the North Carolina tar country, and pitch is only boiled tar."

"Very well, then, you shall superintend that job," said Ned; "you know that was our bargain, to make each fellow manage the things he understood best."

"You'd better make a lot of salt, then, right away, beginning to-morrow morning."

"Why? You don't use salt in making pitch, do you?"

"No; but I shall want the big kettle to boil the tar in, and it won't be fit for use as a salt kettle after that."

"Then we must cook up all our rice too," said Charley.

"No, we needn't," said Ned; "it would spoil if we did, and we can cook it, as we need it, in the coffee-pot."

Early the next morning these preparations were begun. Charley got his salt factory at work, Ned worked at the boat, and Jack made preparations for tar-burning. He began by digging a pit about four feet square and two feet deep. Then—at a distance of about a foot—he dug another pit about three feet square and four feet deep. He packed the wall of earth that separated the two pits as firmly as he could, and then, cutting a long joint of cane for a tar pipe, he passed it through this wall, from a point exactly at the bottom of the shallow pit. He inclined it downward a little, so that the tar might easily run though it and fall into the deeper pit.

Having finished this part of his work, Jack went into the woods near the camp and prepared a large quantity of "fat" pine for burning. Piling this in the shallow pit, and heaping it two or three feet above the level ground, he took the shovel and covered the pile with earth to a depth of a foot or more, leaving a single opening through which he could set fire to the mass. His object was, by smothering the flames in this way, to make the fat, resinous pine burn slowly, creating a roasting heat under the earth, and thus, as it were, melting the tar out of the pine. If he had not covered the wood with earth, it would have blazed up and burned to smoke, resin and all, making no tar at all.

When all was ready the pile was set on fire, and as soon as it had caught well, Jack covered the single opening with earth, and the mound smoked like a volcano. Pretty soon a little stream of smoking-hot tar began trickling through the cane-tube into the deep pit.

Night had now come on, and the smoke from the tar-kiln, catching the light from the camp-fire, glowed with a peculiar red color, and gave a picturesque air of strangeness to the camp.

"You've started a young volcano, Jack," said Charley, as he looked at the smoking mound.

"Yes. An improvement on Crusoe," said Ned; "he had no volcano on his island. But what a quantity of smoke the thing does make. It looks as if more material came out of the mound in that way than you put into it in the shape of wood."

"Yes, and so a gallon of water will fill a big room if you make it into steam."

"What is smoke anyhow?" asked Charley.

"It is composed of several things," answered Ned, "but chiefly of carbon. Indeed, all that you can see in smoke is carbon."

"Then why doesn't it burn?"

"It would if it were kept in the fire long enough; but the light vapors that rise from the fire carry the particles of carbon with them, and so they get out of the fire before they are burned. The smoke is simply so much wasted fuel, and many plans have been made to save it in factories where the cost of fuel is great."

"There's a big waste in making tar, then," said Charley.

"Not half so much as you think," said Jack. "They don't waste the smoke up in the North Carolina tar country."

"How do they burn it?"

"They don't burn it, but they catch it and sell it."

"How do you mean?"

"Why, they have wire screens stretched over the tar-kilns, and as the smoke strikes them the fine particles of carbon stick to them. I have seen masses of them hanging down many inches from the screens, and very pretty they are too."

"But what do they do with the stuff?" asked Charley.

"Sell it. It is called lamp-black, and it brings a pretty good price."

"That is close economy, isn't it?"

"Yes, but it is frequently by just such 'margins' as that that manufacturing becomes profitable. It is a very poor and desolate-looking country up there in the tar-making districts, and I remember hearing a man say once, as we passed through it: 'This is the country where they waste nothing; they bark the trees to get resin: they distil the resin and make turpentine; what's left is rosin; when the trees die they burn them to make tar, catch the smoke for lamp-black, and there aren't any ashes.'"

A NIGHT OF ADVENTURE.

The tar flowed freely during Monday night and Tuesday, and by the time that Tuesday's labors were finished, there was enough in the deep vat to make all the pitch that was required. The salt-making was finished too, and the big kettle was ready for use the next day in boiling the tar to make pitch of it.

On Tuesday evening Ned determined to go fishing, as he did nearly every night when the tide was at a proper stage. He had learned now the spots most frequented by the mullets, and usually succeeded in bringing back a good supply of them to camp. The boys had grown very tired indeed of their restricted diet. For three weeks now they had not tasted meat of any kind—for they never repeated their snake supper,—but had lived on fish, shrimps, oysters, and a few crabs; and being without bacon or any other kind of fat with which to fry their fish, they could not make an appearance of variety by changing the way of cooking them. They had to eat every thing boiled, or roasted, or broiled on the coals, and in the absence of butter and other seasoning for broiled fish, the roast, baked, broiled, and boiled all tasted alike. They had lost their relish for such food as they could get, but having nothing else they were forced to eat it.

On this Tuesday night Ned remained away from camp longer than usual, and at about eleven o'clock Charley went to bed, Jack mounting guard. About an hour later Jack waked Charley, saying:

"I'm uneasy about Ned, Charley. It must be midnight and he hasn't come in yet."

Charley sprang up quickly, and the two looked and listened. Finally it was decided that as Charley was less able to run than Jack—because of the dog-bite, which had not yet entirely healed,—he should remain on guard while Jack should go out in search of Ned.

Ten minutes later Jack came back, running as quietly as he could, and hastily pushed through the eastern gate. Fastening this, he exclaimed in an excited way:

"The squatters are all around us, and I'm afraid they've captured Ned."

"Why? Where are they? Tell me all about it, quick."

"I don't know much about it myself," answered Jack. "I only know that as I walked down along the shore in the direction that Ned took, I almost stumbled over one of the squatters. I retreated, of course, and by keeping in the bushes and looking and listening, I made out that there were at least half a dozen of them about. As I could see nothing, and hear nothing of Ned, I'm afraid they've caught him. You see they came right along the shore where he was wading about and fishing, and if they hadn't caught him, of course he would have run in to give us the alarm. Poor fellow! I wonder if they'll kill him?"

"I'm afraid of worse than that," said Charley, solemnly

"What?" asked Jack.

"I'm afraid they'll flog him. That would be horrible! for my part I'd a good deal rather be killed, and I'm sure Ned would."

"Yes, of course," said Jack. Then, after a pause, he added:

"I'll tell you what, Charley, we mustn't let that happen."

"How'll we help it?"

"Well, they won't try that till after they've made their attack on the fort. They'll simply tie Ned, and keep him till they're through with us, and so we have time to make a diversion in his favor. We've got to give them battle outside the fort. If we can drive them off we may find Ned. When he finds what's up he'll let us know where he is quickly enough."

"Yes, if he hasn't been carried too far away already," said Charley. "At any rate, we'll try. Where were the darkies when you saw them?"

"About two hundred yards away, in the woods near the shore."

"All right. Now let's remember that we've got to stick together, and that our object is to do not as much but as little fighting as necessary, and to get past the enemy if we can, and go on down the shore in search of Ned. We mustn't stop to do any unnecessary fighting."

"No, we'll try first to creep past without any fighting at all," said Jack.

Arming themselves with their best clubs the two boys crept out of the eastern gate and made their way as secretly as they could through the woods. They saw two of the squatters, but managed to slip past them without discovery, and when they had got well beyond them they made their way rapidly along the beach, calling Ned at the top of their voices and listening for his answer. At last they heard a shout in reply, but it seemed a long way off, and singularly enough it was in the direction of the camp. Turning around, they were filled with horror and amazement at what they saw. A great red blaze was shooting up from the camp.

"They're burning us out!" exclaimed Jack.

"Yes, and they must have Ned there with them. His shout came from that direction."

"Come, let's run with all our might. We may get there in time to save Ned at any rate!"

They ran like deer-hounds and were quickly at the burning camp.

They encountered three of the negroes just outside the camp, but coming upon them by surprise they were able to run past and to enter the gate before their enemies could lay hold of them. Once inside they fastened the gate log. As they did so and turned they discovered that they had caught one of their assailants—a negro boy not older than themselves—inside. This lad showed fight, but with two against him he was quickly secured, and tied with the boat's anchor rope.

Then Jack and Charley had time to see the extent of the mischief done. The stockade itself was uninjured, and thus far the boat also was safe, but the vat of tar was afire, and the bush hut in which the boys slept had either caught from the blazing tar or been set on fire by the negro boy. It was obviously too late to save the hut, even if the boys had been free to work upon it, as they were not, for the danger to the boat, which lay very near the fire and was already scorching, was too great to be trifled with. Jack managed to rescue the salt from the hut, and then he and Charley began wetting moss and laying it over the boat.

"This won't do, Jack," said Charley; "those rascals outside will make their way over the stockade if they aren't watched. Can't you keep the moss wet now?"

"Yes, I'll attend to that. You go to the platform at once. If you need me call out and I'll come."

Charley sprang to the platform, and was none too soon. The negroes outside, hearing the cries of their imprisoned companion, were already trying to make their way within the enclosure. One of them having climbed upon the shoulders of another, had taken hold of the top of the stockade, and in another second would have drawn himself up. In that case the boys would have had to encounter him on equal terms, and perhaps another squatter would have been over the wall by that time. Luckily the light from the burning tar revealed the situation to Charley in an instant. Running along the platform to the point of danger, he rapped the knuckles of the climber with a degree of violence which at once ended his climbing. He dropped to the ground as if his hands had been cut off at the wrists, and then Charley began offensive measures. Throwing his clubs one after another—for a large supply of them had been stored along the platform—he compelled the assailants to beat a retreat. They threw some sticks at him in return, but he managed to dodge them, and Jack joining him for a few minutes, the pair fairly drove the assailants off. Then Jack returned to his task of protecting the boat, while Charley, promenading all the way around the barrier, kept guard against surprises.

No further assault being made, and the fire gradually dying down until the boat was no longer in danger, Jack and Charley had time to think of Ned again, and their anxiety was intense.

"At least we've got a hostage," said Jack, "and perhaps poor Ned will be able to arrange for an exchange. At any rate I hope so. There must be some of them who can speak English, and, besides, Ned understands their jargon a little."

"Well, we'll hope for the best," said Charley, "but oughtn't we to make another effort to find Ned?"

"I don't see what we can do," said Jack. "They've carried him off by this time, and to follow in the dark would be useless."

"Yes, that's true. Listen! What was that?"

Jack listened, but could hear nothing.

"What did you hear?" asked he.

"I thought I heard Ned shout."

Jack gave a loud, long call, and then the two listened again. A shout in reply was this time distinctly heard.

"That's Ned," said Charley.

"Yes," answered Jack. "He's making all the trouble he can, I suppose, to delay their march and give us time to catch up. Come, Charley, we must rescue him."

Again the boys sallied out, this time through the western gate. They ran along the shore, stopping occasionally to halloo and to listen for Ned's replies, which came promptly now.

"They aren't getting on very fast with him," said Jack; "we're gaining on them at any rate."

Again the boys ran. When they made their next pause to shout, they were astonished to hear Ned cry out, in his natural voice, from no great distance:

"Is every thing burnt up?"

Strangely enough the voice seemed to come from the water on the right, and both Jack and Charley were bewildered by the fact.

"Where on earth are you?" called Jack.

"Here," answered Ned, "out here on the oyster reef."

The moon was near the zenith, and by carefully scanning the sea the boys could make out the figure of Ned, standing knee-deep in water, about fifty yards from shore. What to make of the situation they did not know.

"What are you doing out there, Ned?" cried Jack.

"I'm waiting for the tide to go down. Never mind me, but tell me about the fire. Did it burn the boat?"

"No, only the tar in the vat and our hut. The boat is safe, and so is the stockade."

"How did it catch fire?"

"Why, the squatters set it afire while we were out hunting for you."

"Have they been there, then?"

"Yes. Haven't they had you prisoner?"

"Not a bit of it. But don't stand there talking. Go back and take care of the camp. When the tide goes down I'll return. Hurry now, or those rascals will get in again and burn the boat."

"But what in the world——"

"Never mind that now. Go on to camp. You've no time to lose. I'll make explanations when I get there."

The necessity for hurrying back was plain enough, and so, without further delay, Jack and Charley started toward the camp at a brisk trot.

A CALCULATION OF PROFIT AND LOSS.

When they arrived at camp Jack and Charley found every thing as they had left it, except that their prisoner was gone. Examination showed that he had gnawed the rope with which he had been bound, and thus had set himself free.

At first the boys were disposed to regard this as a mishap, but a moment's reflection convinced them of their error.

"Now that we know that Ned is safe," said Charley, "we have no use for that rascal. We should have set him free in the morning at any rate."

"By the way," said Jack, "what do you make of Ned's performance?"

"I can't make it out at all," said Charley.

"He must have been cut off from camp by the squatters and forced to take refuge out there on the oyster reef."

"No, the squatters came from the other direction, don't you remember? And, besides, Ned didn't know there had been any of them about until we told him."

"I'll explain all that for myself," said Ned from the outside, "if you'll be good enough to take down the gate log and let me in."

This was quickly done, and Ned entered, first pushing in the cast net well filled with fish. As he straightened himself up a glad "hurrah!" came from both his companions, who saw in his hands a turtle weighing at least twenty-five pounds.

"Hurrah! Now we shall have a taste of meat again. Where did you get that fine fellow, Ned?"

"On the oyster reef," answered Ned; "that's how I came to be out there."

"Well, tell us all about it now."

"Oh, there isn't a great deal to tell. When I left camp, I went down along the shore to the east and caught a few fish, but not many. Then I determined to try the other side of the camp. I strung my fish on a limber switch and came back, intending to leave them here before going on; but as I passed I saw that the gate was closed, so I walked around without bothering you fellows, and went on toward the west. I fished along at one place and another, and finally I got to fishing in the shallow water between the oyster reef and the shore, where the mullets seemed to be holding a public meeting or something of that sort. The tide was low then, though it was coming in, and the oyster reef was out of water. Finding that my switches were full of fish, and being nearer the reef than the shore, I thought I'd just take a look over the reef to see if I could find a small turtle. I had seen one out there several days ago, and my mouth watered so for a piece of meat that the thought of turtle made me wild. So, swinging my strings of fish over my neck, I crept about in the moonlight—for the moon showed a little through the trees by that time,—and after a pretty thorough search I spied this fellow scrambling along over the oyster bed. It seemed, from the slow progress he made, that the shells hurt his bare feet as much as they did mine; but that was probably only in appearance, for when he saw me creeping up on him he made better time, and if I hadn't been so bent upon having some meat for breakfast, he would have got away. As it was I forgot my bare feet long enough to catch the gentleman. Then I tried to go ashore, but the tide had come up and I couldn't. That is to say, I couldn't wade ashore, and to swim was to lose my turtle; so I made up my mind to stick it out till the tide turned. I had to stand in water up to my waist at high tide, but I didn't mind that. I wasn't worried till I saw the blaze here at camp, and heard you fellows yelling. I answered, but you stopped calling, so I supposed it was all right. I waited two or three hours longer, till the blaze began to die down. Then you fellows began calling again, and you came to me. You know the rest. I came ashore as soon after you left as the water would let me. Now tell me all about matters here. Where's your prisoner?"

The boys soon recounted the adventures of the night.

"What is the measure of damage?" Ned asked when the story was ended.

"The hut is destroyed," said Charley; "and the tar," added Jack. "We can make another hut in an hour, but the destruction of the tar just as we were ready to use it is a more serious matter."

"Yes, it will delay us a couple of days longer with the boat," said Ned, "and that's a pity. Let's see, this is Wednesday morning—for it's nearly daybreak now. If this hadn't happened we might have got away from here by next Wednesday,—just four weeks from the day we came. Now, however, we shan't get away before the Friday or Saturday following."

"Well, that will be the appointed time," said Charley.

"The appointed time?" asked Ned, "what do you mean?"

"Why, don't you remember? You told Maum Sally we'd be gone a month, and she warned you not to stay a day longer than that."

"Oh, yes, I forgot that! It will be curious, won't it, if we get away Saturday? I hadn't the least thought of staying a week when we came."

"Nor I," said Jack. "If we had suspected what we were coming to we never would have come at all, I imagine."

"I don't know about that," said Charley, doubtfully. "We came for adventures, and we've had them, if I know what such things are. And we've really had a good deal of fun."

"That's true," said Ned; "we couldn't expect to sleep on feather beds, or to have much luxury of any kind on such an expedition. And, after all, our little hardships haven't hurt us. My foot is about well now, and your dog-bite, Charley, is in a fair way to heal. So, if we get away safely we're all the better for the trip. It will all seem like fun when we get back to school and think about it."

"I dare say we've sharpened our wits a trifle too," said Jack. "We've learned how to take care of ourselves in the woods, and we shall be a good deal quicker and sounder in our thinking for this experience."

"Well, it's clear that we are not sufficiently sharpened up yet," said Charley, "or else some one of us would have seen before this precisely what the fire has done for us."

"What is it, Charley?"

"Why, every grain of rice that we had in the world was in the hut, and of course it is all burnt up."

"The mischief!" exclaimed Ned.

"That's a calamity," added Jack, "but we must get more to-day."

"Yes," said Ned, "if the squatters haven't gathered it all."

"Don't let us meet trouble half way," said Jack; "it will be time enough to give up the rice when we find that we can't get it. Meantime, let's have some turtle steak for breakfast. Then we'll see what is to be done."

In spite of the lack of rice and all other substitutes for bread, the boys enjoyed the broiled turtle more than any thing they had eaten for a fortnight at least.

After breakfast they "scouted" a little, to make sure that there were none of the squatters on their side of the island. Then Charley climbed a tall tree, the plan being that he should watch for squatters while Ned and Jack should gather rice, so that they might not be surprised at their work.

The rice had been cut, and very little remained of it; but here and there a little clump of it was still standing in the grass and bushes around the patch, and a hard morning's work enabled the boys to secure enough of these gleanings to last them for ten or twelve days.

CHARLEY'S SECRET EXPEDITION.

While Charley sat in the tree-top scanning the island in search of possible squatters who might interfere with the gathering of the rice, he saw something else that put a new idea into his head, and before his watch was done he had quite made up his mind to do something brilliant which would surprise and delight his companions.

What he saw was nothing more remarkable than a calf, or rather a young bull, perhaps a year old, browsing in the edge of a thicket half a mile or more to the west of the camp, and not many hundreds of yards from the shore. There is nothing remarkable in such a sight as that, but the circumstances of this case were peculiar, and so the sight set Charley, thinking.

In the first place, he remembered what Ned had told him and Jack about the wild cattle on the island, and reflecting that it had been a good many years since the original stock of animals were abandoned, he could not help regarding this yearling bullock as something more than a mere bullock. It was game; a wild animal roaming at will over unoccupied lands, and to kill it would be quite as good sport as deer-stalking or bear-hunting.

Then, too, Charley and his companions were really in sore need of meat. An exclusive diet of fish, oysters, and other such things soon wearies the palate, and becomes exceedingly distasteful. It is true that Ned's turtle had somewhat broken this monotony, but the relief had been only partial, and the boys very eagerly craved meat—beef, mutton, or pork. They had made no effort to get such meat, only because they had no idea that any such was to be had.

The snake dinner had never been repeated. It is true that the snake was savory, and the boys had spoken truthfully when they declared themselves pleased with it. But that was while their hunger lasted, and when they had finished they had no longer a keen appetite to oppose to prejudice, so that, with full stomachs, the old objections returned, and all three boys were seized with a peculiar loathing for the food they had eaten. Perhaps it was only because they had eaten too much; but, whatever the reason was, the fact remained that they were all sickened by the thought of what they had eaten, and, while they said nothing about this feeling, no one of them ever proposed to repeat the experiment of eating snake.

Now Charley meant to have an abundance of meat against which no such objection could be urged. Here was a fat young steer whose beef was to be had for the taking. How to get it was at first a perplexing question. There was no gun with which to shoot the bullock, and there were no dogs in camp with which to chase it; but after some reflection Master Charley was confident that he could kill the animal with the means at disposal.

He said nothing about either his discovery or his purpose when his companions returned to camp, because he wished to give them a complete surprise.

He merely said that he wanted to make a little hunting expedition, and that perhaps he might succeed in knocking over a rabbit or some other animal good to eat. His companions had little hope of any such good luck, but they offered no objection, and Charley, arming himself with the hunting-knife and the hatchet, set forth on his quest.

He found the bullock not far from the place at which he had seen it before, quietly browsing in the edge of the timber. After carefully reconnoitering the position, Charley went into the woods and crept upon the animal very cautiously through the thick undergrowth. His plan was to creep up in this way until he should be within a few feet of his prey, and then, springing forward suddenly, to strike the bullock between his young horns with the hatchet. Charley had seen a butcher kill a large steer by a comparatively slight blow, delivered at the right place on the animal's head, and he was very sure that he knew where to strike.

As he crept up he carefully avoided making any kind of noise, but when within a dozen feet of the place from which he meant to spring, he made a misstep, broke a stick, and alarmed the bullock, which quietly trotted away.

Charley was disappointed, but by no means disheartened. He had only to begin over again, and proceed more cautiously next time. He crept very slowly and consumed nearly half an hour in his approach. This time he broke no sticks and made no noise of any kind. Nearer and nearer he drew. He could hear the bullock's breathing, but still he must get nearer. A log lay just in front of him, and he could not well spring over it before striking, without alarming the animal and missing his aim. He must creep around this obstruction first, and this he did successfully, but the bullock, though not alarmed, moved away just before Charley reached a position from which to strike. It did not run, but quietly walked away to nibble some grass which grew at a spot a dozen paces distant.

This second disappointment shook Charley's already strained nerves considerably, but, impatient as he now was, he controlled himself and resumed his silent advance. Luckily the animal's head was turned directly away from him, and that fact greatly lessened the danger of his discovery. His chance was now so good, indeed, that a few moments more might have brought his attempt to a completely successful issue, if he had been content to follow his original plan. But just as he was in the act of springing forward to deliver his blow, with every prospect of success, a new thought struck Charley. It was easy to spring upon the bullock's back, and from that point Charley thought he could deal not one, but many successive blows, thus making sure work of what might not otherwise be sure.

Accordingly he leaped upon the animal's back, and as he did so the startled creature sprang forward through the bushes, nearly unseating his rider. The blow which Charley tried to deliver was a disastrous failure. He missed the brute's head, and the hatchet slipping from his hand, was hurled into the thicket.

Charley had no time to think of the hatchet, however. The infuriated bullock plunged headlong through the thicket and then across an open glade and into the woods again, going in the direction of the camp, and Charley had all that he could do to keep his seat. He was beaten black and blue by the saplings encountered; his face was scratched, and his clothes torn almost to shreds. Still, seeing that the bullock was going toward the camp, he held on, with an unreasoning impression that, once at the camp, the animal would be secured.

Jack and Ned happened to be outside the stockade when Charley came dashing past, but of course they could do nothing, and a moment after they caught sight of their companion, he was swept from his seat by an overhanging branch of a tree, and the frightened bullock continued his impetuous flight alone.

Jack and Ned hastened to their friend's assistance. For a moment Charley seemed stunned, but he soon came to himself sufficiently to ask in a querulous tone:

"Why didn't you head him off?"

It was not easy to convince Charley that they had been entirely powerless to capture the bullock, so fixed had been his determination to secure so valuable a prize; but after a while he began to see matters in their true light, and to understand that Ned and Jack could not have stopped the animal, even if they had been prepared for his coming, as in fact they were not.

Then Charley examined his own bruises, which were pretty severe, though no bones were broken.

"The worst of the damage," he said, after awhile, "is the loss of the hatchet, and I suppose we shall find that."

THE END OF CHARLEY'S ADVENTURE.

"Did you lose the hunting-knife too?" asked Jack.

"There!" exclaimed Charley; "what an idiot I am, to be sure! I had that in my belt all the time, and I might have got the beef if I had only thought to use it!"

This was true enough. While going through the thicket, Charley had enough to do to cling to the back of the bullock, but while crossing the open glade he might easily have drawn and used the long hunting-knife if he had thought of it. But he had not thought of it, and it was now too late for the thinking to do any good.

"It is just as well as it is," said Ned.

"Just as well!" exclaimed Charley; "well, I don't see that. I don't know how it is with you, but for my part, I'd relish a beefsteak just now."

"So would I," answered Ned; "but that yearling isn't ours, and we've no right to kill it, I suppose."

"Why not? It's a wild animal, isn't it?"

"I hardly think so. The squatters must have killed all the wild cattle long ago, and this tame calf probably belongs to them."

"Well, they helped themselves pretty freely to our things, so I shouldn't be a bit sorry if I had killed the animal while I thought it a wild one," said Charley, rather ruefully.

The search for the hatchet was a somewhat protracted one, but that important tool was found at last, and so, if Charley's effort to replenish the camp larder did no good, it at least did no harm beyond bruising that young huntsman's limbs, scratching his face, and tearing his clothes.

THE LAUNCH OF THE "APHRODITE."

Contrary to their expectations, the boys were left in peace by their enemies after that last unsuccessful attempt to burn their camp.

The tar-kiln was promptly rebuilt, and by Saturday night a new supply of tar was ready. Early on Monday morning the work of converting this tar into pitch, by boiling it, was begun. This was necessarily a slow process, because the kettle was small and the space to be covered was large, for the plan was to paint the whole outside surface of the boat with the pitch, in order to make it as water-tight as possible. As soon as the first kettleful of pitch was ready, it was carefully applied while smoking hot, care being taken to work it well into the seams. Then another kettleful was set to boil, and so the work went slowly forward. As the pitch cooled it became hard, like varnish, and the effect was to stop all leaks pretty thoroughly.

At first the boat sat right side up, but raised upon the blocks on which she had been built, so that it was easy to pass under her; but in applying the first kettleful of pitch the boys discovered the awkwardness of this position, and determined to turn the Aphrodite bottom upward, for the sake of convenience. This was a difficult task, as the boat was too heavy for the combined strength of the three young ship-builders; but it was necessary to accomplish it, and Jack's mechanical skill devised means for the purpose. Cutting some long poles to serve as levers, and a large number of short, stout sticks, he directed his companions to raise one side of the boat with the levers. While they held it up he quickly built two cribs of the short sticks, one at the bow and the other at the stern, and when the levers were removed the boat rested easily upon these. Then a new bight was taken with the levers, and the side of the boat was raised a few inches further. Building the cribs up to support her in this position, Jack directed the boys to repeat the operation again and again, each time supporting the boat by increasing the height of the cribs. Finally he said:

"Now one more bight will throw her over, but we must get ready first to ease her down, or else we shall strain her."

"How can we do it?" asked Ned.

"By setting some poles up at an angle on cribs. I'll show you."

With that he went to the other side of the boat and built some cribs about five or six feet away from the gunwale on which the boat rested; carrying these up as high as his head, he took a number of straight poles and placed their ends on the ground just under the gunwale, resting the other ends upon the tall cribs. This made a slanting framework, the bottom of which was against one gunwale, while the top was not more than a few feet distant from the other edge of the boat.

"Now," he said, when this was done, "she has only to fall a foot or two forward; her weight will be on her face then, and we'll ease her down by drawing out the crib-sticks."

"I see a better way than that," said Ned.

"Very well. What is it?"

"Let's throw her forward first; then I'll show you."

Resting, as the boat was, almost upon her gunwale, it was easy to push her forward, and when that was done she was a little more than half-way over.

"Now," said Ned, "instead of lowering that upper gunwale, let's lift the lower one with the levers, and block it up. We needn't raise it more than a foot; then she'll show her whole under-side to us just as well as if she lay flat on her face."

"Yes," said Jack, after studying the matter, "and it will be all the easier to turn her back again."

"Have we got to turn her back again?" asked Charley, whose arms and back had been pretty severely taxed in the effort to reverse the position of the boat.

"Well, no," said Ned, "not if we can make up our minds to launch her, bottom upward, and to ride back to Bluffton on her keel. Otherwise we must turn her right side up before we launch her."

"It won't be hard to turn her back, Charley," said Jack. "She'll be nearly on edge, you see, and it won't require lifting—only a little pushing. But come, let's raise this gunwale. Six inches will do, I think."

One more application of the levers served the purpose, and the work of applying the pitch was resumed.

No other difficult problem presented itself, and by noon on Thursday the pitching was complete. Before turning the Aphrodite back again, Jack and his companions cut some long, straight poles, and made an inclined plane of them from the blocks on which the boat rested to the water. They removed all the bark from these poles, so that they should be as smooth as possible.

Then the boat was turned back into position, her side toward the water. It was necessary now to lift her up until her keel should rest upon the inclined plane, down which she was to slide, of her own weight, into the sea. This was a somewhat difficult task, requiring the use of the levers and a good deal of blocking up as the levers raised the boat, inch by inch. It was accomplished at last, however, and, suffering neither strain nor other injury, the Aphrodite slipped into the sea, and rode gracefully upon the water.

"Three cheers for the new boat!" cried Charley, and with a will they were given.

"Now, then," said Ned, "we can begin to see the end of our adventures. Let's see. We've only to make some oars, and then we can be off."

"When shall we start?" asked Jack.

"Well, this is Thursday evening. We can finish three oars—two for rowing and one for steering—by to-morrow evening."

"Then we can make an early start on Saturday morning," said Jack.

"Not very well," said Ned. "The tide will be against us until about one o'clock or half-past, and the Aphrodite is too heavy for two oars against tide."

"Why can't all three row?" asked Charley, who persistently refused to understand any thing about the management of boats.

"Because then we should have two oars on one side and only one on the other, and we'd go around in a circle. We can only use two oars, while the odd fellow steers. We'll be able to rest in that way, too, by taking the steering-oar turn and turn about."

"Then we'll get away when the tide turns on Saturday," said Jack.

"Yes, or a little before,—say at noon. That will give us plenty of time."

"And we'll get back to Bluffton," said Charley, "exactly at the time appointed with Maum Sally, I wonder if she'll have some supper ready for us."

"If she don't she'll have to get some pretty quick," said Ned. "I won't let her scold me till she sets supper before us, and she won't be happy till she gives me a good 'settin' to rights,' as she calls it."

"Hadn't we better wait until we get to Bluffton before we order that supper?" said Jack; "there's 'many a slip,' you know."

"What a croaker you're getting to be, Jack!" exclaimed Charley. "What's to bother us now, I'd like to know? We've got a good boat, we can make oars to-morrow, and Ned knows the way."

"Oh, certainly!" replied Jack. "I suppose we shall get there safely, and I'm not in the least disposed to croak. I only thought that you and Ned were a trifle hasty in your assumption that every thing is to go perfectly smooth with us. For the last month things have had a pretty fixed habit of going the other way."

"Well, but we've conquered our difficulties now, and there's nothing that I can think of to stand in the way of our getting off at the appointed time. And if we leave here at noon on Saturday, what can happen to prevent our arrival at Bluffton that evening?"

"I'm sure I don't know," said Jack; "nothing at all, I hope. But when I think what a chapter of accidents we've been through, I am disposed to wait till I see Maum Sally, before I get my mouth ready for the supper she's to cook."

THE VOYAGE OF THE "APHRODITE."

Saturday dawned soft and warm. After breakfast the boys cooked the few provisions that remained, intending to eat their mid-day meal in the boat, as a mere luncheon, and to satisfy their appetites with better food of Maum Sally's preparing, when they should arrive at Bluffton.

They filled the coffee-pot with drinking water—for the water kegs of the Red Bird had been lost in that boat's mishap,—and bestowed their other scant belongings on board. The moment that the outgoing tide grew slack they began their homeward voyage, giving the old camp three lusty, farewell cheers, and parting with their old associations there with a touch of real regret.

For the first mile or two Ned and Jack were at the oars. Then Charley relieved Ned, as the boat drew out from among the low-lying marsh islands into a broad stretch of water.

The wind was blowing in from the sea, not strongly, but steadily, and after an hour's rowing Jack saw that Ned was rather uneasily watching some light, low-flying banks of mist which were scudding along overhead.

"What is it, Ned?" he asked.

"Nothing of importance—or at least I hope so."

"Well, what is it? Do those little clouds mean rain?"

"I wish they did," said Ned; "but they're not clouds, at least in the usual sense, and I'm afraid they don't mean rain."

"Out with it. We're partners in all our joys and sorrows," said Charley, "so let's hear all about the clouds that aren't clouds but something else. What are they?"

"A sea fog," answered Ned; "this breeze is coming in from the sea laden with moisture, and those clouds just above us are banks of fog."

"Well, what of it?"

"We shall be shut in in five minutes," said Ned. "Look! you can't see half a mile now, and it is settling right down upon us, growing thicker every minute."

It was as Ned said. The wall of thick fog was closing in, and it was already impossible to see any thing except the waste of water around them. A few minutes later even the water could be seen for only a few yards around.

"Lie on your oars, boys," said Ned.

"Why not row on?" asked Charley.

"Because I don't know which way to steer, and rowing may only take us out of our course."

"Can't you hold your course straight ahead?"

"No. That would be possible in a fog if rowing always drove a boat straight ahead, and if there were no cross currents in the water; but both 'ifs' stand in the way. Without a compass nobody can keep a boat in any thing like a straight course in such a fog. The tide is running up, and so if we don't row at all we shall drift in the right direction, at least in a general way, while if we row, we may go all wrong."

"How long is such a fog likely to last?" asked Jack.

"It is impossible to tell. A change in the wind or in the state of the atmosphere may clear it away at any moment; or it may last a week."

"A week!" exclaimed Charley; "what shall we do if it does? We haven't an ounce of food left, and only a little water," looking into the coffee-pot.

"We needn't manage the whole week this afternoon," said Jack. "It will be better to keep cool and do the best thing that can be done every minute. Just now, Ned says, the best thing is to drift with the tide, so we'll drift, and wait, and keep our wits about us so as to see any chance that offers for doing better."

Jack spoke in a cheerful voice, and his tone of courage served to brace his companions somewhat, but it was plain to all three that their position was really one of great danger and uncertainty. It was Jack's excellent habit, however, to grow strong and courageous in difficulty or danger; he never allowed himself to become panic-stricken, or to do foolish, frantic things.

"Jack," said Charley after a while, "I don't believe there's any whine in you."

"I don't know," replied Jack; "I hope there isn't. What good would whining do?"

An hour passed, and still the fog grew thicker. Another hour; the breeze had ceased to blow, and the gray mist lay like a blanket over the water. It seemed piled in thick layers, one on top of another. It was so dense that it could be seen floating between one of the boys and another, like smoke from a cigar. The boys could see its slow writhing and twisting in the still air, moved as it was only by their breath, or by the occasional movements of their bodies. It would have been impossible in such a fog to see a ship twenty feet distant.

For still another hour and another the boys sat still in the boat, rarely speaking or in any way breaking the awful silence of the fog-bound solitude.

At last Ned bent his head down close to the gunwale to scan the surface of the water.

"I see marsh grass here," he said, "but it is completely under water. Watch for any that shows above the surface, and if you see any catch hold of it and hold on."

The boys bent over, one on one side, the other on the other. Presently the protruding tops of the tall marsh grass appeared above the water, and seemed to float slowly by. Several times Jack and Charley caught small bunches of it, but the impetus of the drifting boat was too great, and the grass was pulled up from the muddy bottom. After a little while, the water growing shallower, the grass showed higher above the surface, while it increased also in quantity, impeding the motion of the boat. Then each of the boys seized a bunch and the boat was brought to a stand.

"There, that's better," said Ned, as the motion of the boat ceased.

"Why don't you want to drift?" asked Jack.

"Because it is about the turn of the tide," answered Ned, "and I don't want to drift in the wrong direction."

"Then why didn't you cast anchor when you first saw from the grass that we were in shallow water?"

"Because I don't want to be caught here on a marsh island if I can help it."

"I don't understand," said Jack.

"Well, you see it is about high tide now, and we have drifted upon one of the many mud banks covered with this marsh grass. Some of them are covered with water at high tide, as this one is, but quite bare when the tide is out. When I saw that we were drifting over one I wanted to stop the boat, to avoid being carried back again toward the sea; but we're in danger of getting left here high and dry on a mud bank when the tide runs out, and that would be a bad fix to get into. So instead of dropping anchor, we'll simply hold on by the grass, and as the tide goes out we'll try to work off into deeper water."

"I see," said Jack.

"I wish I could, then," said Charley, who had recovered his spirits; "if I could see I'd steer for Bluffton."

"Come, Charley," said Ned, "this is no joking matter, I can assure you. It's growing quite dark now, and unless the fog lifts very soon we may be stuck here in the mud, for the night at least; suppose you give her a few stokes with the oars, boys; the tide is falling rapidly, and we must get off this bank."

The boys rowed slowly, Ned steering and watching the water. It grew steadily shallower, so he turned the boat about, convinced that the direction he had taken was toward the centre of the bank, instead of toward the deep water. He had not gone far in the new direction however, before the keel scraped the mud, and another change had to be made in the course. Still the keel scraped, in whatever direction he turned.

"Pull away with all your might, boys!" he cried; "if we don't reach deep water in five minutes we're stuck!"

Jack and Charley bent to their oars, and for a few minutes the boat slipped forward through the tall marsh grass. But her keel was dragging in the soft mud, and as the tide was rapidly running out, the boat sank deeper every minute.

"Pull away, as hard as you can!" cried Ned, seeing that the speed was rapidly growing less. "Here, you're exhausted, Jack; let me take your oar. Now, Charley, give it to her!"

The oarsmen bent to their work with the strength of desperation, but the keel was now completely buried in the mud, and the whole bottom of the boat rested in the slimy ooze. Do what they would, the boys could drive her no further.

"Stuck!" cried Jack.

"Yes, stuck, fairly stuck, and in for a night of it, fog or no fog," said Ned.

"What's to be done?" asked Charley.

"Nothing now, except go to sleep if we can. It's so cold and raw that we'll find that pretty hard work. I wish we had brought a lot of moss for blankets."

"But what if the fog lifts in the night?" asked Charley.

"Well, what if it does? We can do nothing now till the tide comes in to-morrow morning. We're high and dry now, and the tide will continue to run out until one or two o'clock to-night. Then it will turn, but we shan't be afloat again till very nearly high tide,—say about seven or eight o'clock to-morrow morning."

"Yes," said Jack, "and as we have eaten nearly nothing since morning, and have nothing to eat till we get to Bluffton, we shall need all the strength we can get from sleep. So let's sleep if we can."

Bestowing themselves as comfortably as they could, the three worn-out, half-famished lads did their best to sleep; but there was very little chance of that. No sooner had they ceased to exert themselves, than the penetrating cold of the fog, which had already saturated their scanty clothing, made them shiver and shake as with an ague fit.

They were obliged occasionally to go to the oars for exercise, in order to keep their blood in circulation, and so there was no chance of any thing like sleep beyond an occasional cat nap. Not long before dawn it began to rain, and Ned, who had been dozing, suddenly sprang up, crying out:

"What's that? Rain? Good!"

"Why, 'good'?" asked Charley, shivering; "I'm damp enough already."

"Good, because if it rains hard the fog will disappear."

"Why?"

"Because it will be converted into rain, and fall. A fog disappears always either by rising and floating away, or by falling in the shape of rain; and this one means to fall, I should say, if I may judge by the way it is coming down now."

It had, indeed, begun to pour. The condition of the boys was thus rendered still more uncomfortable than before, but at least their prospects were brightened by way of compensation, and as the steady downpour cleared the air of the dense fog, their spirits bounded up again in spite of all the discomforts of their situation.

"I say, Jack," said Charley, "are you a prophet or a weather witch?"

"Neither, so far as I am informed," replied Jack; "why do you ask?"

"Only because I suspect that you either foresaw this fog or created it."

"I don't see the force of your suspicion," said Jack.

"Don't you remember how you croaked about slips between the cup and the lip when Ned and I were so sure of getting to Bluffton?"

"Yes, of course; but I didn't really expect any thing of this nature. I only spoke generally."

"Out of the abundance of your wisdom. But I won't make fun, for you were right."

"And, besides," said Ned, "the situation just now isn't a bit funny. There's a young river running down my back, and I'm in for a good scolding from Maum Sally when I see her. She'll scold me for overstaying my time, for wrecking the boat, for losing my boots, for spoiling my clothes, and for every thing else she can think of. And yet, though you'll hardly believe it, I heartily wish I could be sure of getting that scolding very early this morning."