The little darkey grinned as he clambered aboard. "Dat ain't de point," he protested. "I was reckoning dat some ob dem oysters might be alive, an' I sho' would have hated to crush de life out ob dem."
Charley threw over the wheel and started up the motor, and the little boat, whirling around, darted away for the distant point with its two snow-white tents. A few minutes' run brought them close to it, and Charley steered round into a cove, to avoid the tide wash, and ran the boat up on the shore. The anchor was taken out and imbedded in the sand. The motor was covered and everything made snug for the night. Then the two boys strolled forward with their burdens for the tents.
Although it was not yet dark, a big fire of fragrant, spicy, mangrove wood blazed before the tent. A little ways from it on blocks of driftwood sat a boy of about Charley's own age, while close beside him sat an elderly man with a heavy beard. The boy was opening oysters, while the man was carefully breaking turtle eggs into a big pan beside him, taking care to let only the yolks fall into the pan and throwing away the uncookable whites.
"Hallo!" greeted Charley cheerfully. "What luck, Walt?"
"Too good," said the boy on the block listlessly. "Every turtle in the Atlantic must have tried to lay on the beach along here. Didn't even have the fun of looking for a nest. They were scattered around everywhere."
"And you, Captain?" asked Charley, with a grin at his chum's reply.
"Ran the skiff right up on a bed of oysters," the old sailor said briefly. "All I had to do was lean over the side and pick 'em up with my hand—big, nice, fat oysters, too."
Charley took a seat on a piece of driftwood, and silence fell upon the three. Only Chris, with the high spirits of his race, stamped down the fire into a bed of glowing coals, and prepared to make an omelette of the turtle eggs, a stew from the oysters, and a big pot of coffee, singing as he worked,
"Ham meat hit am good to eat,
Bacon's berry fine,
But gib, oh, gib me what I long for,
Dat watermilen asmiling on de vine."
Charley broke the long silence that had fallen on the three. "We are getting to be three old grouches," he said calmly. "We have got the best of health. We have got $5,000 cash in the bank. We have been truckers, wreckers, pearl hunters, plume hunters, spongers, and, lastly, net fishermen, and have gone through all kinds of hardships and perils, and yet, after we agreed to take a long vacation trip and rest up, here after only two weeks of it we are getting restless and dissatisfied. Am I right?"