CHAPTER XXI.
THE CASTAWAYS.
It was lucky for the captain that he was wise to the resources of the Florida coast. A stranger to the country would not have known where to look for food and would likely have soon perished of hunger. Although he had no other weapon than his sheath knife, he went about his task with the air of a man who was confident of success. Before leaving the island, he cut a long, straight cypress pole and sharpened one end to a keen point. With this in his hand, he made his way down to the Gulf. The tide was high again but there was a mass of rock some two hundred feet from shore which protruded a couple of feet above the water. Removing his shoes, he waded cautiously out, prodding the bottom before him with his pole and picking his way carefully to avoid stepping on a stingaree.
The rock reached, he perched himself on its edge and sat peeping down into the water which was clear as crystal. He had not long to wait. In a few minutes a fish swam slowly past close to the rock, and, taking careful aim, the old sailor dove his rude spear down with all his force. Its point struck just behind the fish's head, passing entirely through its body. It died without a struggle, and the captain lifted it out upon the rock with a shout of triumph. It was a beautifully-specked sea trout about three feet in length and weighed at least twelve pounds. Although there was plenty of other fish within sight, the trout was enough for their present needs and, scaling and washing it carefully, the captain waded ashore with his prize. But he was not yet quite satisfied. Laying his fish down upon a bunch of clean sea moss, he examined carefully the muddy beach near the water's edge. Here and there, tiny jets of water squirted up from the mud, and, where they seemed to be most numerous, he began to dig. In a few minutes he had unearthed a couple of dozen large clams. With these and the fish, and a huge armful of moist sea moss in his arms, he made his way back to camp where Chris was eagerly awaiting his return.
"I sho' wish I could get up from hyah," mourned the little negro. "Golly! I reckon, I'd show you how to cook dat fish so dat you nebber could eat nuff ob hit."
"You jes' lie still thar," commanded the captain. "I'm a Cape Cod man, an' thar ain't any cook living that can show a Cape Cod man how to cook this kind of grub. You just watch and learn somethin'."
Chris watched him with professional jealousy and interest. He firmly believed that no one on earth could cook as good as he but he reluctantly admitted to himself that the old sailor made his preparations with considerable promise of success.
First, he scooped out a hole in the ground about three feet deep and two feet square and kindled a small fire in the bottom upon which he placed a layer of small rocks, as soon as it was going good, then, he paused to remark regretfully,
"I wish we had some potatoes. I never heard of a clam bake yet without potatoes."