There was no disputing the wisdom of both suggestions and they busied themselves with the first proposition, the finding of something to eat. This demanded more time and trouble. Another trip had to be made down to the water and considerable searching was necessary before they could collect enough of crabs and shell fish to make the full meal that their hunger craved. Their rest they gained while their dinner was roasting in the coals.
Their rest, meal, and Chris' steadily improving condition, put them all in better strength and spirits, and the boys were cheerful when they bid the old sailor good-bye and made their start in search of help.
"We'll be back as soon as we can get back, Captain," Charley said, "but you don't want to worry if we take longer than you expect."
"I reckon, I'll keep too busy to have much time for worryin'," the old sailor replied. "Jes' be careful, lads, an' get back as soon as you can."
He watched until the rank marsh grass hid the two lads from sight, then busied himself with making the camp a little more comfortable for himself and his sick companion. Chris' welfare was the first thing to claim his attention. With his sheath knife he cut armful after armful of marsh grass and added it to the rough couch Charley had fashioned for the little negro, converting it into a soft, comfortable bed. The low-hanging cedar boughs formed a kind of rude shelter over the little lad, but the captain was not entirely satisfied with it. The rainy season was near at hand and heavy showers might be expected at any time. A thick layer of marsh grass placed over the lowest cedar limbs quickly made the covering more to his satisfaction. This done, he paused for a brief rest and to decide what should be his next task. Although, he knew that the port of Judson could not be more than twenty miles away, he realized that, owing to the necessarily slow traveling amongst the sharp rocks and bog holes, it might be at least three days before the boys could succeed in getting back with help. His duties, then, would be the care of Chris, the providing of food for them both, and the gathering of firewood. Water was luckily plentiful, there was an abundance of it in a cup-like depression near the center of the island.
In a Northern country with no weapons but his sheath knife, these tasks would have seemed almost impossible of accomplishment, but the captain was not discouraged. The first thing, of course, was to see that the little negro's marked improvement was not checked. Heating more stones in the fire, the old sailor piled them around the mound of mud covering the wounded leg. Then, as the berries Walter had brought were nearly exhausted, he decided that the next thing of importance was to lay in a fresh supply. He found the trip to the mainland slow and dangerous. Where the way was not strewn with sharp-pointed rocks, it was dotted with forbidding-looking sink holes of soft, slimy mud. Rank-growing marsh grass covered the whole, making it extremely difficult to pick out a safe passage through the dangers. At last, however, he gained the mainland where he found the oily black berries growing in greatest profusion. He gathered his jacket full of them and then sat down on a fallen log to rest a minute and look around. It was an inviting spot in which he found himself. The land rose up from the marsh to form a high, sloping bluff through which trickled a stream of clear, reddish water.
The bluff was covered with a dense growth of palms, satinwoods, bays, rubber trees, and low-ground palmettos. It was an ideal place for a camp, and the captain eyed it regretfully, wishing that it was possible to bring Chris there from the little marsh-surrounded island. But that was impossible until the little fellow was able to walk and he dismissed the idea with a sigh. He was just gathering up his jacket of berries to leave when a noise in the undergrowth close at hand made him sink back to his seat on the log. The brushes before him parted suddenly and a large deer stepped out into an open place not twenty feet from where he sat. For a full two minutes, he and the timid animal remained motionless, looking directly into each other's eyes, then the old sailor pulled out his sheath knife and sprang for it with some wild notion of securing it for food, but the deer leaped lightly away a few steps and stopped again as if in deepest wonder and curiosity. The captain sheathed his knife with a sigh. "I reckon, you don't know how wicked men are," he addressed the graceful animal. "Guess you ain't ever seed many men or you wouldn't be so powerful tame. Some steaks from you would taste right good, but you ain't aiming to let me get close enough for that. Well, good-bye, old fellow, I hope I'll meet you again sometime when I've got a good gun."
Saying which, the old sailor picked up his burden and headed back for the island, the deer gazing after him in innocent-eyed wonder.
He had nearly reached the little camp when a scream from Chris sent him forward at a run, regardless of rocks and sink holes.
The scene that met his gaze as he burst into the little clearing chilled him with horror and dismay.