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CHAPTER IX.
THE DESPERATION OF HUNGER

The night was still. Only the soft wash of the tiny waves on the shore came to the ears of the Tramp's skipper as he thus raised his head to take an observation.

First he looked in the direction of the three motor boats, and in particular the one on board of which George was sleeping. Perhaps he had a slight suspicion to the effect that some movement on the part of this chum had caused the scuffling sounds.

His search for an explanation in this quarter proved to be a failure. He could plainly see the tan-colored canvas tent which covered the speed boat; but it seemed to be perfectly motionless.

Just then Jack sniffed the air two or three times. Come, that was surely a most delightful odor that seemed to be wafted in his quarter. Had Nick, for instance, been alongside, and wide-awake, he would have immediately declared that it reminded him of roast duck!

By the way, they did have a full half dozen waders in the process of baking in that crude earthen oven. Jack shot a quick glance over in the direction where he and Nick had built the receptacle.

What could that dark object be? Even as he looked he surely saw it move. Yes, a second and more positive examination convinced him of this fact. Then there was danger of the expected breakfast being carried off while they slept.

Was it some prowling bear that had followed the scent, and dug out the cooked fowls? The bulk of the figure assured him that it could be no ordinary raccoon, or even a cunning fox.

Would he be justified in shooting? At that short distance Jack realized that he could riddle the object sadly; for the charge of shot, having no chance to spread, would go with all the destructive power of a bullet.

His finger was on the trigger, but he wisely refrained. Perhaps after all this night intruder might not prove to be a bear, nor yet any other wild beast. Roast duck may appeal just as strongly to the human family. If any prowler had seen them bury the ducks on the preceding evening, might he not have waited patiently until this hour, just before the dawn, in order to allow the fowls to cook?

Was that a grunt of satisfaction he now caught? It certainly sounded very much along that order. Evidently the transgressor and thief must have finally succeeded in accomplishing his burrowing, judging from that decided aroma that was scattering about the vicinity. Even then he might be trying to gather up the spoils, loth to let a single duck escape his bold foray.

Well, Jack believed he ought to have something to say about that. He had gone to considerable trouble to collect half a dozen ducks; and, besides, it took more or less time to build that same oven and prepare the game for the receptacle. They were not in the feeding line, either. If a poor hungry wayfarer chose to approach them the right way, and appeal for help, he would find that generous hearts beat in the bosoms of these good-natured lads. But a thief who came crawling into camp when they were asleep, and tried to make a clean sweep of their expected breakfast, did not appeal to Jack at all.

"Hello! there, my friend; if you start to run, I'm going to fill you full of shot; so don't you dare try it!" Jack suddenly remarked, in a clear voice.

Up bobbed other heads near by, as these words awoke some of the sleepers.

"Keep still, boys, and don't get in my way," said Jack, calmly. "I've got a thief covered, and expect to bring him down if he so much as takes one jump. Easy now, Herb; keep your gun ready, and don't shoot until I say so."

For all he talked so threateningly, of course Jack would have done no such thing had the fellow bolted. Better lose a thousand ducks than have cause to regret hasty action. But it seemed that his bold words had the effect he wanted; for the shadowy figure continued to hug the ground in the spot where the oven lay.

"Don't yuh shoot me, Mistah!" a quavering voice now broke out; and immediately they understood that the intended spoiler of their breakfast must be a negro. "I ain't 'tendin' tuh run away, 'deed I ain't, sah. I gives mahself up. I ain't eben gut a knife 'long with me!"

"Josh!" said Jack, quietly.

"Yes, I'm on deck, all right; what is it?" replied the tall boy, close by.

"You fixed some stuff for starting a fire in a hurry, didn't you?" continued Jack.

"Sure I did; and it's right here beside me," Josh hastened to reply.

"Then strike a match, and let's have some light. We'll look this coon over, and see whether we want to take him down to Franklin City with us tomorrow, or give him some grub and let him go scot free."

Jack was looked upon as a leader by his chums, and when he received these instructions Josh never hesitated a second about starting to carry them out to the letter.

Scratch went his match, which he always kept handy, being the recognized chef of the expedition. Then the light wood flamed up, communicated with other stuff, and in a "jiffy," as Josh called it, the scene was illuminated.

Meanwhile Jack had climbed out from among the folds of his blanket, always keeping his shotgun leveled in the direction of the crouching figure of the detected marauder of their stores.

He found a badly frightened negro, rather a young fellow, and as black as tar. The whites of his eyes looked staring as he followed the movements of that threatening gun, every time Jack moved.

"Come, get up here, and step nearer the fire," said Jack. "When we have company we always like to entertain them in proper style. Now, sit down here, and give an account of yourself. What's your name, to start with?"

George had come tumbling out of the depths of the Wireless, aroused by the sound of voices, although Jack had not been talking in an excited way. Herb, Jimmy and Josh were all on hand, with blankets wrapped about them; for the night air was a bit keen, and they had on only their underclothing and pajamas.

But Nick could be heard snoring away contentedly in his snug nest, dead to the world and all its cares. Nor did any one think to take the trouble to arouse the fat boy, so that he calmly slept through the entire proceedings.

"I'se Jawge Washington Thomas; an' I libs back dar in de kentry at er place called Pokomoke City, sah," the prowler promptly answered, as though he realized that since he had now fallen into the hands of these young fellows, he might as well make a clean breast of it.

"And what are you doing here on the shore of Chincoteague Bay, creeping into a camp, and raiding our provisions?" pursued the one who held the gun.

"'Deed, an' I done must a been a fool," sighed the prisoner; "an' dat's no lie, tuh try an' git dem ducks like er fox, w'en I orter stepped up, bold like, an' asked yuh foh a bite. But I was dat hungry, boss, I jes' couldn't help it. I seen yuh put dem fowls in de little hole in de groun', an' somethin' tempts me tuh hang 'round till dey orter be done foh suah."

"But you haven't told us why you're here, instead of over in Pokomoke City, where you belong, George?" went on Jack, meaning to have the whole story.

"I'se gwine tuh tell yuh hit all, boss, 'deed I is. Den yuh kin do what yuh want wid me, only foh de love o' misery gib me sumpin tuh eat 'fore yuh takes me down tuh Franklin City, what de sheriff is. I'se ben hidin' out now foh nigh a month. Yuh see I done git in a muss wid a white man, an' we had a scuffle. He done trip an' cut his haid on a stone when he falls down; but dey declar I cut him. 'Taint nothin' serious like, gib yuh mah word on it, boss; an' Hank he ben up an' 'round dis three weeks an' more. But dey got it in foh me ober dere, an' I ain't gwine tuh take de chances ob gittin' kotched."

"And so you've been hiding out for a whole month, have you, George?" Jack asked, now lowering his gun, since he realized there was no longer any necessity for standing guard over the dejected chap, hungry, ragged and forlorn as he seemed to be.

"Dat's jes' what I done has, sah. At fust I 'spected tuh make mah way tuh Baltimore, 'case dar I got a brudder; but I jest cudn't go 'way, yuh see, widout mah wife an' two chillen. So I kept right on hangin' 'round hyah, an' tryin' tuh git word tuh dem. I has a letter from Susie jest yisterday, sayin' as how she'd jine me termorry at de Scooter Landin', whar a boat is loadin' wid lumber foh Baltimore. An' my Susie sez as how she got de money tuh take us all dar."

"That sounds reasonable enough, George. Now tell us why you crawled into camp and tried to lift those roast ducks?" Jack asked, turning to wink at his chums, who in their odd garb were gathered around, listening and grinning.

"Jes' as I was sayin', boss; I seen yuh come in here las' night, an' git ready tuh camp. Wanted tuh ask yuh foh sompin' tuh eat de wust kin', but w'en I done sees de guns yuh kerry, I got cold feet; 'case I kinder s'pected yuh mout be all alookin' foh me. So I hangs 'round till I reckons de fowls dey must be ready tuh eat. Den I slicks in, an' tried tuh grab one. Dat's de whole story, boss, gib yuh mah word it is. An' I hopes yuh belibes me."

"See here, George, when a man gives evidence in court he is expected to prove it, if he can," Jack remarked, seriously. "Now, that's a rather interesting story you tell; but how can we know that it's true? You mentioned receiving a letter from your wife a bit ago; suppose you show it to us. That would go a great ways toward making us believe; and getting you a breakfast in the bargain."

"Good for you, Jack!" exclaimed the skipper of the Wireless.

"A bully idea!" commented Josh; while the other two nodded their heads, as if they fully backed these sentiments.

Jawge Washington Thomas seemed in no wise dismayed by this proposition. They saw a wide grin expand across his sable face as he immediately thrust a hand into the pocket of the ragged jacket he wore over his faded cotton shirt.

"Dat seems tuh be de right thing, sah," he remarked, as he drew something out. "I'se right glad now I done kep' dis little letter. Beckons as how I read de same half a million times dis last twenty-foah hours. Dar she be, sah. Hopes as how yuh kin make out de writin'. My Susie she smart gal, 'fore she marry dis good-foh nothin' nigga; she eben done teach school. Reckon she too good foh me, boss; but if I eber gits up in Baltimore, I'se gwine tuh do the right thing by Susie, gib yuh my word I is, sah."

The boys crowded around, each eager to see what sort of a letter Susie had sent to her man, in his time of trouble. This was what they made out, although the missive had been handled so often by the fugitive that it was well begrimed:

"George – The schooner Terrapin will be at Scooter's Landing day after tomorrow, Thursday. I sold out everything, and will be aboard with the children, bound for Baltimore. We can live here in Pokomoke no longer. Be on the lookout. Your wife Susie."

That was all, but it must have brought a lot of hope to the wretched fugitive, who believed that he would be tarred and feathered, or else lynched, if ever he was caught by those Maryland whites. And his claim that Susie had an education Jack saw was well founded.

"How about it, boys; shall we take George to Franklin City, or give him a good breakfast and let him wait for Susie and the kids?" asked Jack, though he felt positive as to what the answer would be before he spoke.

"He can have half of my duck!" announced Herb.

"And the whole of mine," echoed Josh.

"That settles it," laughed Jack. "So, George Washington Thomas, draw right up to the fire and begin operations. A starving man can be excused for doing lots of things that in a fellow with a full stomach might appear to be a bad go. We'll forgive you this time; and hope that when you get to Baltimore, you'll show Susie how you can work for a woman who stands by her man like she has."

"I'se gwine tuh, boss; I'se got mah mind made up on dat, I tells yuh," declared the fugitive, with an air of determination that Jack liked to see.

And as his hunger was such a real thing, they forced him to begin to eat without further delay. Having dressed themselves, for the dawn was now coming on, they started operations looking toward breakfast, wishing to give the poor fellow a treat in the way of some hot coffee and a rasher of bacon.

Fancy the amazement of Nick, as he sat up and rubbed his eyes, on discovering an unknown negro, seated on a log, with a tin plate on his knees, and devouring one of the ducks that had been placed in the primitive oven the night before.

"W-w-what's all this mean? Who's your friend, and whose duck is he making 'way with, fellows? I hope now you haven't let me sleep on, just to play a trick on me and leave a rack of bones on my dish. Did he drop down out of the sky, or have you engaged a pilot for the treacherous waters of the lower Chincoteague Bay?" was the way he broke out, as he discovered his chums grinning.

When he heard the story, Nick hardly knew whether to be provoked, or take it as a joke, that he had been allowed to sleep through it all.

"But I ain't going to be outdone by any of you," he said, magnanimously; "and if George Washington can get away with another whole duck, let him tackle mine!"

CHAPTER X.
NICK IN SEARCH OF A MERMAID

"Good boy, Nick!" cried George, who knew what a great sacrifice the fat boy had in mind, when he offered to give up his share to the hungry stranger.

"But there's no need of it," declared Josh. "You know I don't have any appetite in the morning, so he's eating my duck."

"And as for me," piped up Herb, "I'm satisfied with half a bird. Besides, somehow, duck for breakfast seems rather strong. I'm used to something light – a rasher of bacon, flapjacks, or hominy, with coffee. So hold your horses, Nick, and get ready to take your turn."

After the meal had been completed, preparations were made looking toward an early start. They anticipated having a hard day's work, several inlets having to be crossed, with the ocean setting in heavy against them, it might be.

Jack had heard some pretty wild stories concerning the perils that might be expected while crossing these same inlets, where at the full sweep of the tide small boats were in danger of being upset in the mad swirl.

He hardly believed more than half of what he heard, however, knowing how prone the natives are to exaggerate things. Besides, the staunch motor boats were not in the same class as the clumsy craft used by those who navigated these shoal waters along the Virginia coast.

They said good-bye to the fugitive black. Some of them, in the generosity of their boyish hearts, had slipped quarters and half dollars in the ready hand of the fellow; and his eyes danced with happiness as he stood there, waving the skippers and crews of the little flotilla farewell.

"It was a mighty lucky thing for George Washington that he dropped into our camp last night," laughed Herb, as they began to lose sight of the waving hat of the negro.

"Yes, and just as lucky that he made a failure of his job," remarked Jack, for they were moving along close together, so that it was easy to talk back and forth. "If he'd managed to get away with a duck or two, that would have ended it all. As it is, he's holding a nice little bunch of coin, that will help pay for the grub, after he gets to Baltimore with his family."

"I suppose it's a square deal George gave us?" queried Josh.

"Now, what do you mean by that?" demanded Herb.

"He couldn't have been playing a trick on us, could he?" the other went on; for Josh was often inclined to be somewhat suspicious.

"Come off!" scoffed George.

"That's too bad, Josh, for you to suspect him of trying to pull the wool over our eyes," Jack declared, reproachfully.

"Oh! I don't doubt him, so to speak," Josh protested; "but you know I'd hate everlastingly to be done by a coon."

"That letter was genuine enough," observed Jack, thoughtfully; "and fellows, perhaps you didn't notice the thing, but there were blurs on that writing, just as if somebody had been crying, and the tears dropped on the paper. Whether it was poor old George Washington, feeling awful lonely, and hungry, who wept; or his wife while she was writing the note, doesn't matter. But those marks went a big way toward convincing me his story was genuine."

Somehow Josh turned red, and no more was said. Those happy-go-lucky lads could feel for the sentiment that had caused those tears.

"That's Chincoteague Light, ain't it?" asked Herb, after a while, pointing ahead.

"Sure it is!" Jimmy cried. "I saw it winking at me every time I woke up last night, so I did, me bhoy!"

"Then we strike across that inlet soon?" suggested George, showing just the slightest sign of nervousness, Jack thought.

Of the three skippers, George had the most cause for looking serious whenever there arose any chance for trouble, either through a storm, or tidal currents. His speed boat, being so very narrow in beam, and cranky, was least fitted to contend with raging seas; since there must always be great danger of an upset.

"In less than half an hour we'll spin across and get behind Wallop's Island. As the tide is pretty well up, we ought to make the riffle there. I'd hate to get stuck in the mud, and have to wait ten or twelve hours for another tide to float us off," Jack made answer; for, as he had the charts, they always looked to him for information.

"Then what next?" asked Herb, wishing to be posted.

"In an hour or more we ought to reach Assawaman Inlet, and after that will come Gargathy, Matomkin, and then Watchapreague; which last is said to be the most dangerous along the whole coast," replied the commodore of the fleet.

"You don't say!" ejaculated George, pretending to look unconcerned; "and just why is that, please?"

"Well, it happens to be wider than any other, and the currents are fierce. Besides, some of the natives declare there are mermaids, or something after that order, that try to overturn boats crossing."

At that the boys let out a combined yell.

"Me for a pretty mermaid, then!" cried Nick. "I always did want to have a chat with one of those fair damsels of the sea, ever since I read how they used to comb their hair and sing to the mariners in those old days of Greece."

"Makes a fellow think of all the old mythological things," declared George.

"That's right," Herb declared. "You remember about Scylla and Charybdis, the two fabled monsters that used to alarm the old chaps hundreds and hundreds of years ago; but which turned out to be a dangerous rock and a big sucker hole, called a whirlpool? That's what ails this old inlet, I guess. The currents suck hard; and these crackers along the coast think unseen hands are trying to drag them down."

"What I don't like about it," remarked Josh, "is the sharks."

"Oh! I see you have been reading about it, then," said Jack, quickly. "I didn't mean to say anything about those monsters."

"Then there are sharks around?" demanded George; while Nick turned a little pale as he leaned over the side of the speed boat and listened.

"Yes; all accounts agree on that score," Jack admitted. "But if we manage right, and take the inlet at the proper time, there's no reason why any of us should bother our heads about the scaly pirates of the sea."

"I only hope none of 'em butt up against the Wireless, that's all," grunted the skipper of the narrow boat.

"Gracious! do you think there's any chance of that?" asked Nick, looking as though he half felt like begging Herb to take him aboard at the crucial time, only that he hated to show the white feather.

"Oh! hardly," laughed Jack, desirous of cheering the other up.

"Still, it might be wise for Nick to keep under cover while we're making that same passage across," suggested Josh, wickedly.

"And just why me, any more than you?" demanded the fat boy, indignantly.

"Well, the sight of such a bag of bones as me wouldn't be apt to stir those man-eaters up to any extent; but if they caught a glimpse of such a rolypoly morsel as you, Nick, it would set 'em wild."

"Oh! let up, won't you?" grumbled Nick. "This is too serious a subject to make fun over. I don't just hanker to make a dinner for any old shark, and don't you forget it, Josh Purdue."

They crossed the inlet at Chincoteague without the slightest trouble. Beyond lay Wallop's Island, and their speed had to be considerably reduced while navigating the tortuous and narrow channel lying between that body of reedy land and the main shore.

Despite the wideawake work of the pilot in the Tramp, there was always a liability of some boat charging upon an unseen mudbank; and hence it was advisable to take things rather easy, so that in case of such a disaster, it would be possible to pull off again, with the help of the other boats.

Then came the next inlet, which was also crossed easily.

"Say, nothing hard about this," George called out, as they headed once more down the bay toward Gargathy Inlet.

"Lots of things look harder than they turn out to be," answered Herb, who was having it easy enough in his wide-beamed craft.

"Still, be on your guard all the time," cautioned Jack, who meant to keep near the erratic Wireless all the time, because he felt it in his bones that if any accident did happen it would be in that quarter.

At noon they drew up and went ashore on a sandspit, where they ate lunch. Nick of course "browsed" around, as he called it, in search of oysters, and was speedily rewarded by discovering a supply. Indeed, they had hard work making him break away, when Jack tooted his conch shell as the signal for a start.

Matomkin Inlet proved as easy as the others.

"Now for the terror!" remarked George, as later in the afternoon they approached the spot where Watchapreague lay.

Ahead they could see the whitecaps marking the fierce cross currents that have given this half-mile wide inlet its bad name. Many a wreck of shore boats has taken place here, and lives been lost.

"We might as well get over now, as in the morning, for the tide is as good as it will ever be. Those whitecaps are caused by the wind blowing from the shore, and the tide coming in," Jack decided, as they advanced steadily on.

"And in case of any accident, then, a fellow couldn't be carried out to sea," George remarked, with what seemed like a distinct look of relief.

So the start was made. All around them the water fairly boiled, and unseen influences apparently tugged at the frail little craft, as though the fingers of those fabled monsters were gripping their keels.

They were just about the middle and most dangerous spot when George gave a sudden cry. It was echoed by a wail from Nick. Looking up, Jack discovered a sight that thrilled him to the core. The erratic Wireless had chosen to play its skipper a nasty trick at just the time it should have been on its best behavior, coming to a stop with such abruptness that poor Nick lost his hold forward, and went splashing into the water like a giant frog!