After a four hours’ run, Frank, who climbed up into the port rigging, glass in hand, made out Captive Island, a low-lying strip of land that just showed above the surface of the water.
As they drew nearer, they could see that it was densely wooded—palms tossed their feathery heads; the great live oaks stretched out their mighty arms sturdily; and here and there a cedar stood out black in contrast with the lighter greens.
“I’d like to explore that island,” said Arthur. “What’s the matter with laying off there for the night?”
“All right; harbor is good and water enough,” Kenneth admitted, after looking at the charts.
The anchor was let go into three fathoms, off a sort of rude landing, which they afterward found was built by a man who lived on the island and raised vegetables for the northern market.
After supper, Frank and Arthur went ashore, but soon returned, driven away by mosquitoes. Frank declared that he had seen enough of that place at close quarters, and that if the skipper and Arthur wanted to explore, he was satisfied to stay and tend ship.
“Why,” said he, “except where the fellow has his vegetable patch, the whole place is a morass right down to the water’s edge. I guess there is a beach on the Gulf side, now I think of it.”
“That’s it—that beach! That’s what I want to explore.” Arthur was of an investigating turn of mind.
It was unnecessary to go through the usual plan of drawing lots to determine who should go and who should stay; Frank stuck to his previous statement that he would not go “chasing round in that miserable mud hole.” After all the morning’s work was done, the skipper and the mate got into “His Nibs” and rowed off.
The little landing was a primitive affair, hardly strong enough, the two boys thought, to allow of very heavy shipments being made from it; but it was sufficiently sturdy to bear their weight without a tremor. From it led a path through tilled land, green with the young shoots of a freshly-planted crop. This road Kenneth and Arthur followed for some distance. Fields crowded it closely on either side, then it branched, and the boys found themselves walking on a narrow strip of solid ground, hemmed in on both sides by a morass so deep and uncanny that they shivered. Tall palmettos grew out of the slimy ground, and vines twisted and wound in every direction like thin, green serpents; gray moss hung from the branches everywhere, like veils placed to hide some ghastly mystery. The path was well trod and firm, and the two boys, feeling that it must lead somewhere, went on quickly. For an hour, they travelled through the swamp, the way winding in and out among the trees wherever the earth was firm.