“That’s old Eph, the terrapin hunter,” observed Egan. “He makes anywhere from ten to forty dollars a week out of his ‘birds,’ as they are called, but, like the most of his race, he spends his money as fast as he gets it, and what will he do when the rheumatism gets a good grip on him and he has to quit work, I don’t know. I suppose he will have to fall back on father for support, because he belonged to our family before the war.”
“Terrapins are nothing more nor less than mud-turtles, I believe?” said Curtis, inquiringly.
Egan replied that that was just what they were—turtles that were caught in tide-water; and then he called out to the negro, who had by this time reached the water’s edge:
“I say, Eph, have you two or three diamond-backs to spare?”
“Ise allers got some for you, Marse Gus,” was Eph’s answer.
“All right. Come aboard and get this basket.”
The negro stepped into a canoe that lay on the beach close at hand, and a few strokes with the paddle brought him alongside the yacht. The basket containing their lunch was passed down to him with the request that he would have three diamond-backs, cooked in his best style, ready for them at one o’clock sharp. The negro promised compliance and shoved off for the shore, after exchanging a few complimentary remarks with Egan, who, it was plain, was a favorite of his, while the yacht filed away on her course.
“What is a diamond-back?” asked Don, as soon as they were fairly under way.
“It is a terrapin not less than seven inches in length, measuring along the under shell,” answered Egan. “They are better than the larger and coarser kinds, just as a two and a half pound yellow pike is better than one that weighs nine or ten pounds. They bring from twenty-five to thirty-six dollars a dozen, while the river turtles are worth only nine dollars; but the latter are extensively used by hotels and restaurants where they are served up as diamond-backs, just as red-heads are served up as canvas-backs. However, as both those species of ducks live on the same kind of food—wild celery—there is not so much difference between them as there is between the tide-water and river terrapin. Hallo! Hand me that glass a moment, Curtis.”
The boys looked around to discover what it was that had called forth this exclamation from the skipper, and all they could see was a neat little schooner standing up the bay. Egan leveled the glass at her for a second or two, and then handed it back to Curtis, saying: