In the meantime what had happened was this, and it was sufficiently alarming. Ben, after he parted from Billy, had followed a fascinating “Ke-ouk ke-ouk” through the brush till he found himself near the margin of the creek that flowed round the island. He had reached the brink and was looking inquiringly about him to ascertain what might have become of the big gobbler when he felt a rope thrown over his head from behind, and the next minute the big ex-sailor, great as was his strength, was struggling in the arms of a dozen men. Who his captors were he was unable to see, for as the rope had tightened, his great arms were pinioned close to his side, forcing at the same time his gun from his grip, and a thick blanket had been thrown over his head. Blinded and half suffocated, Ben felt himself picked up and hustled through the wood. He tried to shout but the blanket effectually muffled his voice.
After a few minutes of this rapid traveling Ben felt himself thrown into what he instinctively realized was a canoe and then being paddled rapidly over the water. In what direction they were proceeding he had of course no means of knowing, but from the few words his captors had exchanged he knew he was in the hands of the Seminoles. Of the object of his abduction he could not even hazard a guess.
After about an hour of traveling Ben, through his smothering blanket, heard the loud barking of dogs and crying of children, and knew that they must be near a settlement of some kind. He was not left in doubt. The canoe’s keel grated on the beach the next minute and he was dragged out and propelled toward the center of the sound. He felt dogs come sniffing about his legs and kicked out viciously. He grinned under his blanket as he heard one limp away with ear-piercing howls.
“There’s one trouble disposed of,” thought Ben to himself, “what’s coming now. I wonder?”
He was not kept long in suspense. He was suddenly halted and the cloth jerked off his head. His wrists, however, were not unbound. It was now dark, and in the sudden glare of firelight that confronted him, Ben’s eyes refused their duty for a minute or so. As he grew accustomed to the light, however, and looked about him he saw that he stood in the center of a ring of palmetto-thatched huts which were crowded with women and children, all heavily laden with beads—in fact these were about all the clothing the children wore—while all about him were grouped grave-faced men with bright-colored turbans on their heads, one of whom he at once recognized as the chief who had visited them with Quatty the previous afternoon and promised them freedom from annoyance while they were in the limits of the ’glades.
“This is a dern fine way you keep your promises,” roared the captive Ben indignantly, while the women snickered and the men regarded him with stolid curiosity, “you cigar-store Injuns you, if I had my hands free I’d hammer you into lobscouse. I’d show you the kind of a buck sailorman I am. I thought you promised us you wouldn’t disturb us and here you clap my head in a mainsail and furl me in it till I can’t use my deadlights to see day from night. Keelhaul you, if I had you aboard a ship I’d masthead the lot of you till you fell overboard.”
There was not a word in reply and the chief stood with folded arms, as immobile as if Ben had not spoken a word.
“Oh, you’re all going to play deaf, are you,” bellowed the enraged ex-sailorman, “well, it won’t go down with me, my hearties. I know you can hear,—oh, if only I had my hands free I’d put some life into you—you—you row of tenpins.”
Here Ben stopped, because he was completely out of breath with his volcanic outburst. While he was getting ready for a fresh eruption, to his surprise one of the younger men stepped forward from the solemn circle and in excellent English, considering the place and by whom it was spoken, said:
“You all through big talk, white man?”