The interested little party followed him as he led the way along a soft sand road flanked by scrub palmettos.
Their guide paused beside one of the several large buildings standing close to the road. "This is a clipping shed," he said.
The building was open on one side and was filled with a crowd of old men, women and young boys, all Greeks. Before each was a pile of rough sponges from which they were clipping the spoilt parts with great shearing shears. In one corner, a man worked over a big screw-press, pressing the severed fragments of sponges into huge compact bales.
"That part isn't important enough to waste much time looking at," Mr. Driver said, as he turned away. "Come on and I'll show you something worth seeing."
As they followed along behind their guide, the boys became sensible of a strong, pleasant, appetizing odor in the air, an odor which grew stronger as they advanced. A turn in the road brought them suddenly upon the source of the odor. On the shore of a quiet little land-locked harbor, blazed dozens of small camp-fires over which sat great iron kettles. On pieces of canvas laid upon the ground were piles of fresh beef and mutton. Over each pile worked several Greeks cutting the meat with the sheaf knives into tiny squares about an inch in size. Other Greeks were dumping the little square pieces into the kettles, while still others kept the contents stirred and the fires under the kettles burning briskly.
"They are putting down the meat for their next voyage," explained Mr. Driver. "They roast it in its own fat, put it into stone jars, and pour the fat over it. As soon as the fat cools and congeals it forms an air-tight covering which keeps the meat from spoiling."
"If it tastes half as good as it smells, it must be delicious," Charley remarked.
Chris viewed the cooking operation with professional jealousy. "Golly, I bet dey can't cook like dis nigger," he declared, "I spect dem kettles ain't none too clean noway."
Captain Westfield gave but scant attention to the trying-out process. His interest was centered on the big fleet of schooners anchored near shore. They were over a hundred in number and were of all sizes and designs. They made a pretty sight lying gracefully close together in the little harbor. But the old sailor soon strolled on to where groups of Greeks were building and repairing boats on the shore. He inspected their work with a critical eye, but he was soon lost in admiration.