What Happened at Quasi: The Story of a Carolina Cruise

by George Cary Eggleston

  VI

  A LITTLE SPORT BY THE WAY

  THE day had just asserted itself when Larry, looking out upon the broadwaters of a sound that lay between the dory and the point at which thedory would have been if she had not gone aground, rather gleefully said:

  “We’ll be out of our trouble sooner than we hoped. The _Hunkydory_ willfloat well before the full flood.”

  “Why do you think so, Larry?” asked Tom, who had not yet recoveredfrom his depression and was still blaming himself for the mishap anddoubting the possibility of an escape that morning.

  “I don’t think it; I know,” answered Larry, beginning to shift ballastin a way that would make backing off the mud bank easier.

  “But how do you know?”

  “Because there’s a high wind outside and it’s blowing on shore. Look atthe white caps out there where the water is open to the sea. We’re ina sort of pocket here, and feel nothing more than a stiff breeze, butit’s blowing great guns outside, and when that happens on an incomingtide the water rises a good deal higher than usual. We’ll float beforethe tide is at the full.”

  “In my judgment we’re afloat now,” said Dick, who had been scrutinizingthe water just around them. “We’re resting on the marsh grass, that’sall.”

  “So we are,” said Cal, after scanning things a bit. “Let’s get to theoars!”

  “Better wait for five or ten minutes,” objected Dick. “We might foulthe rudder in backing off. Then we’d be in worse trouble than we werebefore.”

  “That’s so, Dick,” answered Cal, restraining his impatience and fallingat once into his peculiarly deliberate utterance. “That is certainlyso, and I have been pleased to observe, Dick, that many things you sayare so.”

  “Thank you for the compliment, Cal, and for what it implies to thecontrary.”

  “Pray don’t mention it. Take a look over the bow instead and see howshe lies now.”

  In spite of their banter, that last ten minutes of waiting seemedtediously long, especially to Tom, who wanted to feel the boat glidingthrough the water again before forgiving himself for having run heraground. At last the bow caught the force of the incoming flood, andwithout help from anybody the dory lifted herself out of the grass anddrifted clear of the mud bank.

  The centre board was quickly lowered, the sails hoisted, the burgeerun up to the masthead, and, as the _Hunkydory_ heeled over and beganplowing through the water with a swish, her crew set up a shout of gleethat told of young hearts glad again.

  A kindly, gentle thought occurred to Dick Wentworth at that moment. Itwas that by way of reassuring Tom and showing him that their confidencein him was in no way shaken, they should call him to the helm at once.Dick signalled his suggestion to Larry, by nodding and pointing to Tom,whose eyes were turned away. Larry was quick to understand.

  “I say, Tom,” he called out, “come to the tiller and finish your job.It’s still your turn to navigate the craft.”

  Tom hesitated for a second, but only for a second. Perhaps heunderstood the kindly, generous meaning of the summons. However thatmight be, he promptly responded, and taking the helm from Larry’s hand,said, “Thank you, Larry—and all of you.”

  That was all he said; indeed, it was all that he could say just then.

  Suspecting something of the sort and dreading every manifestation ofemotion, as boys so often do, Larry quickly diverted all minds bycalling out:

  “See there! Look! There’s a school of skipjacks breaking water deadahead. Let’s have some fun trolling for them. We haven’t any appointedhours and we’re in no hurry, and trolling for skipjacks is prime sport.”

  “What are they, anyhow?” asked Dick, who had become a good dealinterested in the strange varieties of fish he had seen for the firsttime on the southern coast.

  “Why, fish, of course. Did you think they were humming birds?”

  “Well, I don’t know that I should have been greatly astonished if I hadfound them to be something of that kind. Since you introduced me toflying fish the other day, I’m prepared for anything. But what I wantedto know was what sort of fish the skipjacks are.”

  “Oh, that was it? Well, they’re what you call bluefish up north, Ibelieve. They are variously named along the coast—bluefish, jackmackerel, horse mackerel, skipfish, skipjacks, and by some other names,I believe, and they’re about as good fish to eat as any that swims insalt water, by whatever name you call them.”

  “Yes, I’ve eaten them as bluefish,” answered Dick. “They’re considereda great dainty in Boston and up north generally.”

  “They’re all that,” answered Larry, “and catching them is great sportbesides, as you’ll agree after you’ve had an hour or so of it. We musthave some bait first. Tom, run her in toward the mouth of the sloughyou see on her starboard bow about a mile away. See it? There, wherethe palmetto trees stand. That’s it. She’s heading straight at thepoint I mean. Run her in there and bring her head into the wind. Thenwe’ll find a good place and beach her, and I’ll go ashore with the castnet and get a supply of shrimps.”

  “Is it a wallflower or a widow you’re talking about, Larry?” languidlyasked Cal, while his brother was getting the cast net out and arrangingit for use.

  “What do you mean, Cal? Some pestilent nonsense, I’ll be bound.”

  “Not at all,” drawled Cal. “I was chivalrously concerned for theunattached and unattended female of whom you’ve been speaking. You’vementioned her six times, and always without an escort.”

  “Oh, I see,” answered Larry, who was always quick to catch Cal’s ratherobscure jests. “Well, by the pronouns ‘she’ and ‘her,’ I meant the goodship _Hunkydory_. She is now nearing the shore and if you don’t busyyourself arranging trolling lines and have them ready by the time Iget back on board of her with a supply of shrimps, I’ll see to it thatyou’re in no fit condition to get off another feeble-minded joke likethat for hours to come. There, Tom, give her just a capful of wind andrun her gently up that little scrap of sandy beach. No, no, don’t haulyour sheet so far—ease it off a bit, or she’ll run too far up theshore. There! That’s better. The moment her nose touches let the sheetrun free. Good! Dick himself couldn’t have done that better.”

  With that he sprang ashore, and with the heavily leaded cast net overhis arm and a galvanized iron bait pail in his hand, hurried alongthe bank to the mouth of the slough, where he knew there would bemultitudes of shrimps gathered for purposes of feeding. After threeor four casts of the net he spread it, folded, over the top of hisbait bucket to keep the shrimps he had caught from jumping out. Withinfifteen minutes after leaping ashore he was back on board again with abucket full of the bait he wanted.

  “Now, then,” he said to Dick and Tom, “Cal will show you how to do thething. I’ll sail the boat back and forth through the schools, spillingwind so as to keep speed down. Oh, it’s great sport.”

  “Well, you shall have your share of it then,” said Dick, carefullycoiling his line. “After I’ve tried it a little, and seen what sort ofsailing it needs, I’ll relieve you at the tiller and you shall take myline.”

  “You’ll do nothing of the kind,” said Cal with a slower drawl thanusual by way of giving emphasis to his words. “Not if I see you first.After Larry has run us through the school two or three times, missingit more than half the time, I’ll take the tiller myself and give you areal chance to hook a fish or two.”

  Dick knew Cal well enough to understand that he was in earnest and thatthere would be no use in protesting or arguing the matter. Besidesthat, he hooked a big fish just at that moment, and was jerked nearlyoff his feet. The strength of the pull astonished him for a moment. Hehad never encountered a fish of any kind that could tug like that, andfor the moment he forgot that the dory was doing most of the pulling.In the meanwhile he had lost his fish by holding his line too firmlyand dragging the hook out of its mouth.

  “That’s your first lesson,” said Cal, as deliberately as if there hadbeen no exciting sport on hand, and with lik
e deliberation letting hisown line slip slowly through his tightened fingers. “You must do it asI am doing it now,” he continued. “You see, I have a fish at the otherend of my line and I want to bring him aboard. So instead of holdingas hard as a check post, I yield a little to the exigencies of thesituation, letting the line slip with difficulty through my fingers atfirst and long enough to transmit the momentum of the boat to the fish.Then, having got his finny excellency well started in the way he shouldgo, I encourage persistency in well doing on his part by drawing inline. Never mind your own line now. We’ve run through the school andLarry is heaving-to to let Tom and me land our fish. You observe thatTom has so far profited by his close study of my performance that—yes,he has landed the first fish, and here comes mine into the boat. Youcan set her going again, Larry; I won’t drag a line this time, butdevote all my abilities to the instruction of Dick.”

  On the next dash and the next no fish were hooked. Then, as the boatsailed through the school again, Dick landed two beauties, and Tom one.

  “That ends it for to-day,” said Larry, laying the boat’s course towardthe heavily wooded mainland at the point where Cal had suggested a stayof several days for shooting.

  “But why not make one more try?” eagerly asked Tom, whose enthusiasm inthe sport was thoroughly aroused; “haven’t we time enough?”

  “Yes,” said Larry, “but we have fish enough also. The catch will lastus as long as we can keep the fish fresh, which isn’t very long in thisclimate, and we never catch more fish or kill more game than we candispose of. It is unsportsmanlike to do that, and it is wanton crueltybesides.”

  “That’s sound, and sensible, and sportsmanlike,” said Dick,approvingly. “And besides, we really haven’t any time to spare if we’regoing to stop on the island yonder for dinner, as we agreed, and—”

  “And as at least one appetite aboard the _Hunkydory_ insists that weshall,” interrupted Cal. “It’s after three o’clock now.”

  “So say we all of us,” sang Tom to the familiar after-dinner tune, andLarry shifted the course so as to head for an island nearly a mileaway.

  There a hasty dinner was cooked and eaten, but hasty as it was, itoccupied more time in preparation than had been reckoned upon, so thatit was fully five o’clock when the dory was again cast off.

  In the meanwhile the wind had sunk to a mere zephyr, scarcelysufficient to give the heavy boat steerage way, and, late in the day,as it was, the sun shone with a sweltering fervor that caused the boysto look forward with dread to the prospect of having to resort to theoars.

  That time came quickly, and the sails, now useless in the hot, stillair, were reluctantly lowered.

  A stretch of water, more than half a dozen miles in width, lay beforethem, and the tide was strong against them. But they pluckily plied theoars and the heavy boat slowly but surely overcame the distance.

  They had found no fresh water on the island, and there was very littlein the water kegs when they left it for their far-away destination. Thehard work of rowing against the tide in a hot atmosphere, made them allthirsty, so that long before they reached their chosen landing place,the last drop of the water was gone, with at least two more hours ofrowing in prospect.

  “There’s a spring where I propose to land,” said Cal, by way ofreassuring his companions. “As I remember it, the water’s a bitbrackish, but it is drinkable at any rate.”

  “Are you sure you can find the spot in the dark, Cal?” asked Larry,with some anxiety in his voice. “For it’ll be pitch dark before we getthere.”

  “Oh, yes, I can find it,” his brother answered.

  “There’s a deep indentation in the coast there—an inlet, in fact,which runs several miles up through the woods. We’ll run in toward theshore presently and skirt along till we come to the mouth of the creek.I’ll find it easily enough.”

  But in spite of his assurances, the boys, now severely suffering withthirst, had doubts, and to make sure, they approached the shore andinsisted that Cal should place himself on the bow, where he could seethe land as the boat skirted it.

  This left three of them to handle four oars. One of them used a pair,in the stern rowlocks, where the width of the boat was not too greatfor sculls, while the other two plied each an oar amidships.

  In their impatience, and tortured by thirst as they were, the threeoarsmen put their backs into the rowing and maintained a stroke thatsent the boat along at a greater speed than she had ever before madewith the oars alone. Still it seemed to them that their progress wasinsufferably slow.

  Presently Cal called to them: “Port—more to port—steady! there! we’rein the creek and have only to round one bend of it. Starboard! Steady!Way enough.”

  A moment later the dory slid easily up a little sloping beach andrested there.

  “Where’s your spring, Cal?” the whole company cried in chorus, leapingashore.

  “This way—here it is.”

  The spring was a small pool, badly choked, but the boys threwthemselves down and drank of it greedily. It was not until their thirstwas considerably quenched that they began to observe how brackish thewater was. When the matter was mentioned at last, Cal dismissed it withone of his profound discourses.

  “I’ve drunk better water than that, I’ll admit; but I never drank anywater that I enjoyed more.” Then he added:

  “You fellows are ungrateful, illogical, unfair, altogetherunreasonable. That water is so good that you never found out itsbadness till after it had done you a better service than any otherwater in the world ever did. Yet now you ungratefully revile its latelydiscovered badness, while omitting to remember its previously enjoyedand surpassing goodness. I am so ashamed of you that I’m going tostart a fire and get supper going. I for one want some coffee, and itis going to be made of water from that spring, too. Those who object tobrackish coffee will simply have to go without.”