The Boy Chums Cruising in Florida Waters, Page 2

  CHAPTER II.

  GETTING SETTLED.

  THE dinner proved less embarrassing than the little band of adventurershad feared. To be sure Mr. Daniels' son, a sturdy little lad of eight,stared at them constantly with wide-eyed hero worship and plied themwith an army of questions about their adventures; but the boys, whodetested talking of their exploits, skillfully directed his questionsto Chris and the vain little darkey, glad of the chance to brag,entertained the little lad with wonderful yarns of their adventures, inall of which he made himself out the hero. Mrs. Daniels proved to bea nice, motherly, little lady who quickly made them all feel at theirease, while Mr. Daniels exerted himself to make the meal pleasant forthem. As soon as they decently could, however, the four took theirdeparture, for they were anxious to see something of the little townand to get settled in their new home.

  "Let's go down to the wharf first of all," Walter proposed as soon asthey were out on the street. "We want to pick out our house the firstthing we do."

  There was but one main street to the little town and a question put toa passer-by got the information that it led down to the wharf.

  A few minutes' walk brought them past the straggling row of storesthat comprised the town's business center. Just beyond these the fourstopped to gaze around in admiration and delight.

  "My! It's beautiful!" Charley exclaimed.

  "A regular Paradise," Walter agreed.

  Before them stretched a wide street of snow white lime rock, overhungby gigantic live oak and magnolia trees. Back a little ways from thestreet nestled houses almost lost 'mid trees and flowers. Betweenthem and the sidewalks were gardens blazing with a mad riot of color.The rich yellow of alamandas mingled with the deep purple of Chinesepaper flowers and the warm blue of Lady Alices. Here and there stoodRoyal Poinciana trees and a vivid blaze of scarlet. Great floweredcacti reared their thorny forms high in the air and delicate lace-likeferns grew all around. In and out amongst the blaze of color flittedgorgeous-hued tropical birds twittering to each other, while here andthere frisked little gray squirrels chattering excitedly over thefallen acorns.

  Captain Westfield drew in a long breath of the sweet flower-scentedair. "I am going to like Clearwater," he declared.

  "Well, we are going to have lots of time to get acquainted with it,"observed Charley, practically. "We had better be moving on now, it isgoing to be a busy afternoon for us."

  But at the end of the gently sloping street they paused again withmurmurs of admiration. Before them a long wharf ran out into a greatbay, its waters blue as indigo save where flecked by foaming whitecaps. Across on the other side of the bay, and about two miles distant,stretched a chain of white-beached islands between which the foamychurning breakers showed where the waters of the bay connected with theGulf of Mexico. But our little party spent only a moment admiring thebeautiful scene, they would have long weeks to admire its loveliness.Just now they were more interested in the wide snowy beach on eitherside of the wharf. Here was a living picture of part, at least, oftheir new occupation. The shore was dotted with groups of fishermenengaged in tasks pertaining to their calling. Some were busy mendinglong nets stretched out on racks of poles. Some were pulling nets intotheir boats preparatory to a start for the fishing grounds. Others,just in from a trip, were pulling their wet nets out to dry. Stillothers were busy calking, painting and repairing their skiffs upturnedon the beach, while here and there little groups were engaged overcamp-fires from which rose appetizing odors of frying fish and steamingcoffee. Close in to the beach the fishing fleet lay bobbing at anchor,a hundred skiffs and at least half as many motor boats.

  As our little party stood watching the busy scene, a motor boat withthree skiffs in tow came chugging in for the beach. When within astone's throw of the shore it rounded up and anchored. Almost beforethe anchor had touched bottom a man had jumped into each skiff, castit lose from the launch, and was sculling in for the beach. Our littleparty joined the group that gathered at the water's edge to meet thenewcomers. The skiffs lay deep in the water and the reason was apparentwhen they grounded on the sands. Each was heaped from thwart to thwartwith flat silver colored fish.

  "Pompano!" exclaimed Charley.

  "Pompano," snarled a sallow-faced, tough-looking fisherman near him."That's just the luck of that Roberts gang. Tarnation stuck up guys.Won't have nothing to do with us fishermen. Think themselves too good.They are greenhorns too. Only started fishing this season. They haveregular fools' luck though. Just like their luck to hit a nice bunchlike that when better fishermen are coming in without a fish. They hadought to be run out of Clearwater."

  The man in the nearest skiff heard the sneer and his good-humored facetook on a look of scorn. He surveyed the speaker from head to foot asthough he was examining some strange kind of animal. Then he spokeslowly and deliberately.

  "Run us out of town, you cowardly cur?" "Why, there isn't enough ofyour kind in the state of Florida to run one Roberts. If you ever rananything in your life it was a rabbit. I've heard enough of your sneersand I give you notice right now to quit. Yes, the Roberts boys doconsider themselves too good to associate with you and your kind. Notbecause you are fishermen but because you are lazy, lying, thieving,rum-drinking bums. It's time some one told you the truth aboutyourself. You and your gang seem to have the rest of the fishermenbluffed so they will stand for your sneers. You talk about luck. Well,maybe it is luck, but let me tell you there's mighty hard work to backit up. We have hunted over fifty miles of water, been without sleep forthirty-six hours, and worked 'til we can hardly stand, for these fish.Luck! You make me sick! If you worked one night a week like we workright along your poor little wife would not have to work her fingers tothe bone over the wash-tub to support you. Hunter, you are a disgraceto mankind."

  The sallow fisherman's face went livid and he gasped and splutteredwith rage. His hands clenched and he made a movement towards the man inthe skiff but evidently prudence got the better of his rage.

  "I'll pay you for this, Bill Roberts. I'll pay you out. You see if Idon't," he cried.

  "I know what you are thinking about," returned Roberts in level tones."I know of the tricks you have played on other men that have crossedyou. I know what happened to them, but don't you think for a momentthat I'll make the mistake they made in going to law about it when theycouldn't prove anything. If any such accidents happen to us, I'll notgo to law about it. I'll beat the miserable little soul out of yourbody. Get away from here or I may do it now."

  Hunter slunked away muttering curses and the other fishermen strolledoff behind him.

  Bill Roberts looked after them with a grin. "That fellow gets my goat,"he chuckled. "I'm sorry I lost my temper but I'm about worn out fromwork and loss of sleep and my nerves are on wire edge. I've no use forthat fellow anyway, and I guess I would have told him my opinion ofhim, sooner or later."

  "You seem to have been fairly well paid for your hard work," observedCaptain Westfield. "You've got twenty or thirty dollars' worth there,haven't you?"

  Charley chuckled and Bill Roberts grinned.

  "I see you don't savey pompano," he said. "They are a scarce fish. Ireckon we've got one thousand pounds of them and they are worth fortycents a pound. Figger that out, Mister."

  "Four hundred dollars," gasped Walter. "Whew! I hope we strike a fewbunches like that, Charley."

  "You folks going to fish, eh?" enquired Roberts. "Well, it's a goodhealthy business and it pays well for hard work. We don't often strikea bunch like this, but by keeping steady at it, we always make prettygood money. The worst drawback about fishing is the men in it. Take myadvice and avoid them all you can. Don't get mixed up with that Huntergang anyway if you can help it. Drop into our camp,--it's right overthere on Tates Island,--whenever you feel like it, and we will give youall the pointers we can."

  Charley thanked the friendly fisherman. "We will be over there soon,"he promised. "We are new to the place and we would like to get somepointers right off but we are just getting settled and must
hurry offnow."

  "I like that gang," he said to his companions as they hurried out onthe long dock. "They seem of a better class than those other fishermen."

  "They would not have to be very good to be that," observed CaptainWestfield, gravely. "Those fishermen are a tough looking lot. I hope wewill not have any trouble with them."

  "We will not have any," said Walter, cheerfully. "If we just tend toour own business I guess they will tend to theirs. Well, I guess theseare the houses Mr. Daniels spoke about."

  They had reached the end of the long dock. On one side of it stood arow of small shacks. Most of them were occupied but at last they cameupon a large one that stood empty.

  "Golly," exclaimed Chris, as he peeped inside, "dar poor white trashdat lived in dis was sho' dirty."

  The floor was thickly covered with filth and rubbish, the walls weretobacco stained, and the windows were broken and covered with grime.

  "We'll soon make it look different," said Captain Westfield,cheerfully. "Let's go to work with some system and we'll soon becomfortably settled. Walter, you make out a list of what we need and goup to the store. Charley, see what you can do with those windows. Chrisand I will clean out. Bring a broom, Walt."

  When Walter got back with his arms full of bundles he found the shackwet inside but clean, the windows shining brightly, and his comradesnowhere in sight.