“The old man’s fishin’ mackerel this mornin’,” said Sandy, “an’ I reckon I’ll get the dory an’ try a squid over along the edge o’ the Stream as soon as the breeze makes.”
“Well, take care you don’t lose nothin’,” said Bill with a grin.
“Whatcher mean?” snarled the older keeper.
“Nothin’,” answered the assistant.
“Then don’t say it,” said Sandy, and he walked down the steps of the spider-like structure, muttering ominously, until he reached the reef a hundred feet below, where, hauled high and dry, lay his boat. Sandy was an old man, and had depended upon false teeth for some years. The last time he had gone fishing he had lost them from his boat, and as he could not leave the light he had nearly starved to death. In desperation at last he had set the ensign union down and signaled for assistance, the second keeper Bill being ashore on leave, and after the U.S.S. Ohio had come all the way from Key West to find out the cause of the trouble he had been forced to explain to the officer his humiliating disaster. As the danger of landing in the surf had been great and the services of the man-of-war had been required for a whole day, he had been forced to listen to a lecture upon the absurdity of his behavior that did little to encourage him, and it was only his emaciated appearance and unfeigned weakness from loss of food that saved him his position as keeper.
He shoved his small boat off and sprang into her. Then he stepped the mast, and hauling aft the sheet swung her head around and stood off the reef, riding easily over the low swell. High above him was the lantern, and he looked up to see Bill gazing down at him and pointing toward the southward, where a ripple showed the breaching fish. His lines were in the after locker, and he soon had them out, one of them with a wooden squid trolling over the stern as the little craft gathered headway.
The memory of his former disaster now came upon him, and he took out his teeth, which were new, and examined the plates upon which they were fastened. A small hole in either side showed, and through these he rove a piece of line. Then he placed the teeth back in his mouth and fastened the ends of the line back of his ear.
“Let ’em drop an’ be danged to it, they’ll git back mighty quick this time,” he muttered. “I wonder where that old pelican left the school of fish?”
The old bird had satisfied his present needs and had flown away to a distant part of the outlying bank, where he was now proceeding to enjoy his catch at leisure. Far away to the northward, where Key West showed above the horizon, a long line of black specks were rapidly approaching through the air. They were the regular fishermen of the reef, and they were bound out to sea this morning for their daily meal. On they came in single file like a line of soldiers, their distance apart remaining regular and the motions of their leader followed with military precision. Every time he would strike the air several sharp strokes with his wings, the motion would be instantly taken up by the long line of followers flapping their own in unison.
The “old man” heeded them very little indeed as he quietly ate his fish, and they knew enough not to bother him. They sailed majestically past and swung in huge circles over the blue Gulf to locate the passing school.