CHAPTER XXIX.
AN IDLE DAY.
MUCH to their disappointment, our little party were forced to remainwhere they were the next day. The long, continuous soaking in thebrackish water had made their feet so tender that walking on the sandwas very painful. They prepared as usual for the start but they hadnot gone more than a hundred yards when they gave up the attempt andreturned to where they had camped.
"It is just as well for us to lay by, a day, anyway," Charley observedin an attempt to force cheerfulness from their enforced detention."Tampa is only a day away and we couldn't go into the city like weare. We would be arrested as tramps as soon as the police caught sightof us. Gee! but we are a tough-looking gang. Captain, you look like atypical 'Weary Willie.' All you need is a stick, a tomato can, and ahandkerchief full of hand-outs to be a complete 'knight of the road.'"
"You haven't got any room to make fun of my appearance," grinned theold sailor. "You look like a cross between a coal heaver and a chimneysweep and Walter looks just as bad. It don't show up quite as bad onChris."
"Dat's de advantage ob bein' a nigger," agreed Chris, composedly. "Anigger can't show de dirt much. If I was one ob you white chillens I'dbe plum ashamed ob myself--I sho' would."
And indeed, the little party was a sight to behold. Their clothes werestiff from mud, slime, and brine, and their skins were grimed from thesmoke of their camp-fires. They had washed thoroughly, and often, butthe mud and slime of the swamp had made useless all efforts to keepclean.
"First, we had better take a good wash ourselves and scrub good andclean with this white sand. Then wash out our clothes as good as wecan. This warm sun will soon dry them out and keep us from catchingcold. While they are drying, we can be getting something to eat for theday and fix up our feet. When that's all done we want to lay quiet thebalance of the day and give our feet a chance to get into shape," saidCharlie.
Without soap, the washing of their clothes was a slow, laboriousjob. Luckily their clothing was comparatively new and strong or itwould never have stood the rubbing and pounding it received. At last,however, the operation was completed and their pants and shirts werespread on the bushes to dry. This done, they turned their attentionto the laying in of a supply of food for the day. While Chris, withthe fish-line, sought a likely looking pool near the creek's mouth,Walter and Charley hunted for oysters and clams, and the captain busiedhimself in picking a generous supply of huckleberries. In a short time,the two boys had collected enough shell-fish for a couple of days, andjoined the old sailor in picking the black, glossy berries. By the timethey had gathered all that were wanted, Chris had succeeded in landingthree big sea bass and a small shark about four feet in length.
"Hold on, don't do that," Charley exclaimed, as the little darkey wascasting the shark back into the water. "That shark is the very thing wewant. I would not take a dollar for it."
"Hit ain't no good to eat," protested Chris. "Hit tastes so strongyou'd have hard work to swallow one bit of hit."
"I'll show you what I want it for," Charley said. "Just start up alittle fire while the rest of us open up some clams and oysters fordinner."
When the fire was going briskly, the lad attacked the shark with hissheath-knife. Splitting it open, he cut out the fat and the liver frominside. These he placed in a big shell obtained from the beach and setthe shell on the coals.
"Now get some nice, clean, Spanish moss," he directed, "and unravela yard or so of that rope we brought with us. There's nothing betterthan shark oil for a liniment. It is going to do our feet a world ofgood."
As soon as the oil was tried out in the shell, they rubbed it on totheir swollen feet. The result was immediate and gratifying. Theburning ceased at once and the aching visibly decreased. When they hadrubbed the oil well in, they wrapped their feet up in Spanish mosswhich they bound in place with bits of the raveled rope.
"Now if we lay quiet and don't use them, they will be all right byto-morrow," declared Charley, with satisfaction. "I guess our clothesare dry by now. We had better put them on or this sun will have ourbacks blistered as sore as our feet."
The boys hobbled over to where they had spread out their clothes and totheir satisfaction found them perfectly dry.
They were just slipping on their shirts when the captain descended uponthem, wrath on his usually good-natured face.
"What have you done with my clothes?" he demanded, angrily. "This is notime for joking. Stop it right now."
"We haven't touched your clothes," Charley protested, indignantly."They are just where you left them."
"They ain't," gasped the old sailor, paling, for he knew the lad alwaystold the truth. "They're gone. Someone has stolen them."
"Whew," whistled Charley. "Some one of those murderers must have takena fancy to them."
"I'd murder him, if I could get my hands on him," cried the captain,wrathfully. "How am I going to go into town in this fix."
Charley grinned as he caught the humor of the situation. "You couldgo into town all right," he said, "there wouldn't be any troubleabout that. It's what they would do to you after you got into town. Idon't really believe the police would stand for your present costume,Captain."
The old sailor glared at him in helpless wrath. "What am I to do?" hemourned. "My back is burning already."
"Sit down in the shade of that tree," Walter suggested, "the sun won'thit you there. We'll have to think up something for you. We wouldhardly care to enter the city with you in your present condition."
Charley had quickly seized upon a plan to clothe the old sailor but hecould not resist the temptation to tease him a little.
"If we only had a barrel we could fix you out all right," he said,reflectively. "We could knock out the head and hang it from your neckby ropes."
"But we haven't got the barrel," said Walter, regretfully, catching hischum's wink.
The captain eyed them suspiciously but the two lads' faces wereserious.
Walter appealed to his chum, gravely. "He might pretend he is a work ofart," he suggested, "he's got a ship tattooed on his back, a mermaid onhis chest, and a flying fish on each leg. Maybe Tampa is an art-lovingcity and will receive him with open arms."
"I am afraid not," Charley replied, gravely. "I expect it's just a big,rough, unartistic city. I think it would be better for him to enter asa nature-lover who had adopted the simple life."
"Good," exclaimed his chum, enthusiastically. "Just the thing. What asensation it will make. I can just see the papers with his picture onthe front page and the black head lines.
"Noted sea captain adopts the simple life and discards clothing. Says,'go naked and you'll live to be a hundred.'"
"What's the name of that widow lady who was so interested in thecaptain, Mrs. Wick? I believe I'll send her one of the papers," saidCharley, reflectively.
This was more than the old sailor could stand. "If you young idiotscan't suggest anything sensible, for the Lord Harry's sake shut up," hespluttered.
"I don't see much we can suggest," Charley said seriously. "Our clothesare all too small for you or we would each give something to help dressyou. There's no hope of getting your clothes back. The only thing Ican think of, is to do you up in Spanish moss like they do roses andtender plants they send North."
"I guess Spanish moss is the only thing," admitted the captain. "Itain't much, but it's better than nothing."
So, with difficulty, restraining their laughter, the two lads proceededto cover the old sailor with great bunches of the strong, long, Spanishmoss, tying it securely to him with pieces of the raveled-out rope.
When they had finished, he was a queer and wonderful creature.
The sight was too much for Chris. The little darkey lay on the grassand rolled with laughter.
"Massa Cap, Massa Cap," he gasped, "you look jes' like a great bigTeddy Bear."
The old sailor grinned feebly at the three, mirth-convulsed boys.
"I reckon I do look some funny," he admitted, "but I don't care. It'scomfortable
, and a heap sight decenter than nothing."
A look of anxiety came to his face and he winced visibly.
"What's the matter?" asked Charley. "No pins sticking in you?"
The captain scratched vigorously. "Thar's ants in that pesky moss,"he declared, at which announcement the three boys let out a roar oflaughter that made the woods ring.
It was verily a day of rest for the four wanderers. The balance of itwas spent lying on their soft moss couches in the warm sunshine talkingover past events and planning for the future.
With the night came Watson again to sit in the shadows by their campand listen greedily to what they could tell him of the world outside.In spite of the man's bloody record of crime, they could not help atouch of pity for his loneliness. And the truth was more indeliblystamped on their minds that evil brings its own punishment.
They told him about the theft of the captain's clothes, and he listenedattentively.
"I guess it was Black Sam took them," he commented. "He was in rags thelast glimpse I got of him. He certainly needs clothes but I guess youneed them worse. I'll get them back for you."
"Strangers," he said, as he rose to go, "I want you to do me a bigfavor. When you get outside send me a copy of the Atlanta Constitution.I ain't heard a thing of Georgia in years. Send it to Marco, care ofIndian Charley, and I'll get it all right."
Charley promised him they would do so.
In the morning when they awoke, the captain's clothes were lying besidethe fire.
They never knew exactly how Watson made Black Sam relinquish his prizebut there was a large blood-stain on the shoulder of the cleanly-washedshirt and they formed their own opinion.
The Boy Chums Cruising in Florida Waters Page 29