The Boy Chums in the Gulf of Mexico

by Carol Norton

  CHAPTER XXVIII.

  JUDSON.[A]

  BY noon the two lads estimated that they must have come at least twentymiles from where they had left the captain and Chris, and, if the oldsailor had been right in his reckoning, they could not be far fromtheir objective point, the town of Judson. They began now to keep asharp watch ahead and ere long were rewarded by the sight of a lowblack line projecting out from the marsh ahead. A closer approachresolved the low black line into a long, shaky, decrepit wharf, itspiling rotting from age and neglect and its timbers and planking fastfalling into decay. On the mainland back of the marsh a few rudecabins, each at least a half a mile distant from its nearest neighbor,rose from the middles of wide neglected fields. One lone, aged slooprode at anchor near the wharf. The little port and the hamlet itselfseemed to wear an air of deadly decay, sadness and gloom.

  "Not a very cheerful or prosperous-looking place," Charley observed asthey clambered up on the wharf and made their way ashore over its shakytimbers.

  "No," his chum agreed, "but I am thankful to reach it, poor as it is.My feet are getting sore from tramping over these rocks, I can tellyou."

  At the shore end of the dock the two paused long enough to take a morecareful survey of the place.

  "I declare it looks as though it was deserted or all the inhabitantsdead," Walter said nervously, "See how the roads are all grown up withweeds as though they were never used. There is no sign of anyone abouteither."

  "Just notice those cabins," his chum exclaimed, "They look justlike the pictures I have seen of houses the first settlers used tobuild during the Indian times. They are built of great logs and haveloopholes like the forts of those days. What a queer place!"

  "Well, there's smoke coming from the chimney of that nearest cabin, andthere seems to be someone working out in the field by it," said Walterwith a sigh of relief. "I was beginning to think it was an abandonedvillage."

  The two bent their steps towards the cabin indicated. It was set ina square clearing of about twenty acres, that was surrounded by astrip of pine woods which separated it from its nearest neighbor. Asthey drew nearer, they could see a man at work near the cabin. He wasploughing up the ground with a rude plow hitched to a yoke of oxen.

  As the boys stepped out of the road into the clearing, they weregreeted by savage barks, and a pack of dogs lolling around the cabinwoke into sudden life and came tearing towards them.

  The man at the plough let go the handles and sprang into the cabin. Thenext minute a rifle barrel protruded from one of the loopholes, "Haltright where you-all is," called a voice from behind the rifle.

  "Call off your dogs," shouted Charley, as he and Walter, snatching up acouple of sticks, endeavored to keep the growling, snapping curs at bay.

  "Who are you-alls an' what do you want?" demanded the holder of therifle.

  "We were shipwrecked twenty-five miles up the coast. We want suppliesand help to bring in two companions, one of whom is badly hurt,"answered Charley.

  "Come closer an' let me have a good look at you-all," commanded thecabin's occupant, "Here yu Bet, yu Tige, yu Jim, be still thar," hecalled to the snarling pack which slunk growling away at his harshcommands.

  The boys drew near the cabin in obedience to his order. A brief surveyof them seemed to convince its owner that they were not what he feared.The cabin door was flung open, and, rifle in hand, he appeared in thedoorway.

  "Come in you-alls an' have a cheer," he invited. "I'll jis' unhitchthem oxen an' then, while I'm rustling up a bit of supper, you-alls cangive me your story."

  The tired, hungry boys accepted his invitation with alacrity, and,while he was busy unharnessing the yoke of steers, they seatedthemselves in a couple of rude home-made chairs, and gazed curiouslyabout them.

  The cabin was about twenty feet square. Its rough log walls werewhitewashed, and its pine-slab floor spotlessly clean. At one endwas a big old-fashioned fireplace from the rafters above which hunghome-cured hams, slabs of bacon, and strings of sausages. A barrelin a corner was heaped high with huge, sweet, sugary yams. Severalboxes beside it were heaped with onions, cabbages, carrots, pumpkins,and other vegetables. In another corner stood a barrel of home-groundcorn meal and a big hogshead of water. Taken all in all, the littlecabin's interior was a sight to fill the two hungry lads with satisfiedanticipation. They had hardly completed their survey of it when theirstrange host entered latching and bolting the heavy door behind him.

  He was a man about forty years of age, strongly built, but sallowwith the sallowness of the native Floridian. His face was kindly inexpression but stamped on its every line was a look of uneasiness andapprehension. It was not an expression of fear but rather the look ofa brave man who was simply on his guard every moment against expecteddangers.

  "I sho' have got to ask you-all to excuse me fur the way I dun greetedyou," he apologized, "but, you see, strangers are mighty scarse aroundhyar an' one has to be plum' careful. I'se powerful glad to see a newface though--it's been mighty nigh two years since I had talk with astranger. I reckon, you-alls must be some hungry. I'll rustle up alittle supper while you-all gives me your tale."

  With a deftness that indicated long batching experience, he cut greatslices of ham and placed them to broil over the coals, mixed a poneof corn bread and put it to bake in a Dutch oven, and buried a dozenbig yams to roast among the embers. While he was thus engaged, Charleyrelated the story of their voyage and shipwreck omitting only anymention of the gold. His story was frequently interrupted by his host'sexclamations, "I swan, an' dew tell." When the lad had finished, thestranger beamed upon him with evident pleasure. "I swan, hit's jis'like a novel I read once," he declared, "hit was writ by a fellowcalled Russell, Clark Russell, if I don't disremember his name. I don'treckon his story was true though. I 'lows he just made it up outer hishead--but the vittals is ready now, you-alls jis' back up to the tablethar an' helps yourselves."

  The hungry boys needed no second invitation but fell to work on thetender juicy ham and sugary yams with hearty appetites while their hostas he ate, watched them with evident pleasure at their enjoyment. Whenall had finished, he put away the dishes, filled his corn-cob pipe, andleaned back in his chair against the wall.

  "You-alls can't go back to whar yu left the captain an' the littlenigger to-night, noways," he observed.

  "No," Charley agreed, "but we would like to start back early in themorning if we can get a wagon or a boat."

  "Thar ain't no fitten road for a wagon leading up the coast," observedtheir host. "I owns that little sloop anchored down thar by the dock. Ireckon, you-alls could make out with her. I don't reckon them Wrightswould stop you-alls from going if they understood jis' how thingsstood. I don't 'low they would be so pesky pisen mean as all that.I'd like to go with you-alls an' see that ole captain an' that littlenigger, I sho' would."

  "We would like to have you go with us," said Walter, eagerly. "Whycan't you?"

  "'Cause I don't ever expect to leave this hyar cabin alive," said hishost, calmly.

  The boys stared at him in uneasy astonishment.

  "No, I ain't crazy," said the man quietly. "Hush, jis' lis'en' a bit."

  A long prolonged growl came from one of the dogs outside. The man aroseand taking up his rifle stepped over to the loophole beckoning to thelads to follow. The moon lit up the little clearing almost as light asday. The dogs were moving around outside, sniffing and uttering lowgrowls.

  The boys could see nothing unusual in the clearing but they felt asense of danger in the very air. Their host's eyes, more accustomed tothe surroundings than their own, evidently detected something ominousin one of the shadows thrown out from the belt of pines. He thrustthe barrel of his rifle out through the loophole and the next instantits sharp crack rent the stillness of the night. The lurking shadowvanished amongst the pines with a whoop of defiance.

  Their host pulled in his rifle, "A plum' miss," he said, disgustedly,"Wall, the war is on for fair now. Better outen that light an' drawyour cheers up by the f
ire an' I'll tell you'alls about hit."

  FOOTNOTE:

  [A] This account of Judson is the description of a little West Floridatown as it actually has been, and is to-day. Nineteen of its scantypopulation have died by a fierce war. The author has only changed thefirst letter of the town's real name.