Kitabı oku: «The Boy Patrol Around the Council Fire», sayfa 8
CHAPTER XV – The True Story of a Famous Sea Serpent
“It is over thirty years ago,” said Uncle Elk that evening to the listening Boy Scouts who were gathered in the bungalow, “that the whole country was thrown into excitement by accounts of a stupendous sea serpent which was repeatedly seen off the Isle of Shoals. You know that returning mariners have brought home stories of encounters in distant seas with similar monstrous reptiles. The reputation of many of these men for truthfulness, and the fact that more than one of them insisted that their eyes had not deceived them, led a good many to believe what they told. Nor am I prepared to say that some of the accounts were not founded on fact. In the remote past the land and sea were inhabited by creatures of such vast size that our largest quadrupeds are pygmies in comparison. While the land giants became extinct ages ago, it is not unreasonable to think that the oceans which cover three-fourths of the earth’s surface still hold inhabitants of tremendous growth.
“But leaving all this discussion for the present, I am now about to tell you the true story of one of the greatest fakes that ever astounded thousands of persons and amused the dozen or so who were in the secret. In the summer of 1879 – perhaps a year earlier or later – people everywhere became interested in the reports that an enormous sea serpent had been seen off the Isle of Shoals. These stories were repeated so often and so circumstantially that it was evident there was something in them. General attention was drawn to that famous resort, and hundreds of guests visited the Appledore Hotel for the first time and remained for weeks. The serpent was said to be fifty or seventy feet long, its tapering neck, tail and general conformation were so natural in appearance that there could be no doubt of its reality. It was black in color and moved through the water just as a creature of its kind might be supposed to do. The newspapers sent their reporters thither and some of them saw it. You may be sure that they did justice to the theme. No one dared approach the monster near enough to make a photograph, for none had the temerity to run the risk of rousing the ire of the monster. Excursion steamers from Boston were crowded with thousands eager to get a glimpse of the terrifying creature without incurring any peril, for whoever heard of a sea serpent attacking a ship? It may crush a small boat in its prodigious jaws, as the hippopotamus of the upper Nile has been known to do, – but a steamer is beyond its capacity. Many of the passengers carried revolvers, and a number had rifles. They begged the captain to take them close enough to give a chance for bagging such royal game, and he was more than willing to oblige, but somehow or other the opportunity did not offer. It was said that so many craft cruising about his haunts scared him off, and he did not show himself for days. Then, when the search grew less ardent, he would reappear and the excitement would be greater than ever.
“Picture the piazza of the hotel, the upper windows, and even the roof swarming with people, nearly all with small or large glasses pointed out over the water, searching and waiting minute after minute for a sight of the terrific creature. Maybe after the scrutiny had lasted for hours some one would shout:
“‘I see him! Yonder he is!’
“And every glass would be focussed upon the point a half mile or more away, and wild exclamations would follow. The serpent was in plain sight of every eye. The fore part was upreared three or four feet, and the most powerful binoculars revealed the enormous eyes and vast mouth, while at varying distances to the rear could be seen bulging curvings of the stupendous body, as thick as a cask. Its hideous head slowly circled about on the neck as if the creature enjoyed the sensation he created. Then he dropped lower in the water, and seemed to be reposing, occasionally disporting himself lazily, but often displaying his terrifying convolutions.
“Meanwhile the news had been telegraphed far and near, and thousands of eager people hurried to the Isle of Shoals for a sight which they would remember all their lives. If they arrived before darkness set in they probably were gratified, for the serpent appeared to be fond of showing itself by daylight, but it invariably vanished before morning and probably would not be seen again for a week, when the former scenes would be repeated.
“Scores took up quarters at the hotel, which they had never visited before, and stayed until the close of the season. Most of these were rewarded by a glimpse or two of the serpent, though a few were disappointed and in their resentment declared there was no such thing.
“Not the papers alone, but many of the magazines contained disquisitions on the bogy of the sea. Startling pictures based on the numerous descriptions were given, and caused many a shudder among those who had to depend upon such sources of information.
“One day a dudish youth loudly announced that any man was a fool who was afraid of a sea serpent. He intended to row out in a boat and to go nigh enough to empty his revolver into the frightful head. Incidentally he let it fall that he had a record as a pistol expert, and he invited any one who had the ‘sand’ to go with him for a near view of his fight with the creature that was making a deuced bore of itself.
“To the breathless amazement of the awe-smitten listeners, two young women, pretty of feature and with mischievous eyes, volunteered. He warned them of the risk they ran, but they replied that they were not afraid of anything that failed to alarm him, and any way they didn’t believe the horrid creature would get a chance to harm them before their escort would pierce its brain with several bullets. This tribute to the young man’s skill and bravery caused him to set his hat at a greater angle and thrust out his chest still more. Many of the spectators thought it their duty to protest, but the girls would not be dissuaded, and a few minutes later the boat put off with its three occupants, while every glass or unaided eye followed the movements of the craft.
“This was one of the times when the serpent was in plain sight a half mile away, and the young hero headed directly toward it. The girls laughed and chatted and were sure it was the greatest lark in which they had ever engaged.
“They noticed that as they drew near the creature their escort showed lees enthusiasm and kept looking over his shoulder. It is not to be supposed they were free from a few tremors themselves, but, if so, they did not allow him to see it. They kept up their laughter and commented freely upon the timidity of the thousands who remained upon the hotel porch and watched the sea serpent from afar.
“More slowly the oars swayed until probably a couple of hundred yards separated the boat from that awful undulating monster. The young man ceased toiling and laid his hand upon the revolver in his hip pocket.
“‘You are not near enough to reach him,’ said one of the misses.
“‘I am best on long shots,’ he replied with another glance at that fearful head.
“‘Why, he has seen us! He is looking this way!’ exclaimed the other.
“‘Are you sure of that?’ he asked with chattering teeth.
“‘Yes; he’s coming toward us! Isn’t that splendid? All you will have to do is to wait until he is near enough and then shoot the horrid thing through the head as you said you would.’
“But the young man had heard enough. He whirled the boat around and rowed with might and main, never pausing until he reached the wharf, when he sprang out, and amid the laughter and jeers of the spectators rushed to his room, which he kept until the time came for him to leave the hotel.
“The sea serpent was seen at intervals all through the summer. It did not make itself too cheap, and a week or more would pass without its showing itself. It was observed late in the season, but finally disappeared for good. The Appledore House was crowded as never before, and ran to its fullest capacity for the two following summers because of the general expectation that the sea serpent would show up again, but it never did, and in due time became only a memory or was forgotten entirely.
“When you land at the dock at Boothbay Harbor and come up the slope to Commercial Street, turn to the left, walk only a little way and you will come to the large grocery store of Simpson and Perkins. In the upper hall of that store, as it used to be, the sea serpent of which I have been telling you was born and attained its full growth, preliminary to its removal to the Isle of Shoals.
“The author of its being was William Wilson, who died about ten years ago. He was an English sailor, who in middle life gave up the sea and settled in Boothbay Harbor, where for years he was the only rigger in the little town. He possessed great natural mechanical ability, and it was said of him that he could make anything. He was unusually skilful in plain and fancy sewing and in constructing all sorts of knickknacks. He turned his attention to house painting and in that developed real artistic taste. In short, he was a Jack-of-all-trades and good in each.
“One day a stranger who had heard of Wilson’s versatility came to him with a proposition that he should construct him a sea serpent, for which he was willing to pay two hundred dollars. He explained its purpose and impressed upon the artist the necessity of keeping the thing an absolute secret, – since the discovery that it was a fake would defeat the very object of its being, which was to build up business for the hotel at the Isle of Shoals.
“Wilson agreed to construct the sea serpent in accordance with his own ideas of what it should be. His employer was quite willing to accept this proviso, for he knew the man’s ingenuity and so the verbal contract was made.
“Wilson had a partner in the work, a Swede named Robert Alson, who is still living. These two used to saunter upstairs into the long hall which was their workshop, lock the door and devote themselves to the task, upon which they spent their spare hours throughout the winter. Like a true artist, Wilson would not hurry, and gave careful attention to the smaller details, – a fact which accounts for the perfect success of the extraordinary fraud.
“The sea serpent was exactly thirty-five feet long, and for convenience of shipment was made in three sections, which overlapped and could be readily sewn together. The material was strong canvas, painted a black color, with proper proportions. The tail tapered, as did the neck, the largest part of the body being about two feet in diameter. The head, eyes and mouth were not exaggerated, as would have been the fact with almost any amateur at the job. It was stuffed with cork and oak shavings, so nicely adjusted that it would float partly on or just below the surface, with the curving neck lifting the hideous head two or three feet above the water. The small waves gave a lifelike motion to the thing, which made it seem to be moving slowly through the water, when in fact it never progressed forward or backward, for its position was held immovably by an anchor.
“When the serpent was at last completed it was securely boxed and shipped to Portsmouth, six miles from the Isle of Shoals. Then it was towed at night to the right place, anchored and left to do its duty, which, as I have told you, it succeeded in doing to perfection. It is strange that the imposture was kept up for month after-month, and that it was seen and inspected by thousands, and yet no one really penetrated the clever deception. It was towed to the anchorage at night, and taken away again the next night to a secure hiding place. Those who had it in charge were too shrewd to overdo the trick. When the attention of the crowds threatened to become too warm, the serpent disappeared and was not again seen for a week or more. The general belief was that it had gone out to sea, but after a time some strange attraction drew it back into the field of vision of the swarms of visitors to the Appledore Hotel. As I said, the sea serpent disappeared for good in the autumn and this particular one was never seen again – that is, in its native element. I do not know what ultimately became of it.”
At this point in the narrative Uncle Elk paused, and it could be seen that he was smiling behind his beard.
“I now want to say something to you in confidence. You must be sure not to repeat it in the hearing of others. I gave you the names of the two men who built the sea serpent, but I have good reason to believe a third person had a hand in it. If you will question Keyes H. Richards, the proprietor of the Samoset House on Mouse Island, you will find that he knows all about it. I once asked him point blank if he did not have something to do with its construction, but I could not draw a direct answer from him. Therefore, I retain my suspicions.
“Last spring the twin brothers, Asa and Bige Carter of Boothbay, persuaded themselves that they could make a tidy sum of money by introducing a new sea serpent to the public. After they had completed it, they decided to make a preliminary test by bringing it to Gosling Lake and trying it on you Boy Scouts. They let me into the secret, and though much interested, I discouraged it. They lacked the artistic cleverness of Wilson and the trick was sure to be detected and quickly exposed. I met them on the shore of the lake and saw them tow it out a little way, and anchor it. It was not properly balanced, and while the body sank, the head rose to within a foot of the surface, but would not come any higher. When those two tramps happened to look over the edge of their canoe, you may perhaps imagine their terror at sight of the gently swaying monstrosity that seemed on the point of crushing the boat or them in its jaws. Never again will they be so overcome with blind panic.
“This incident, together with my earnest persuasions, induced the Carter boys to give up their scheme and to take away their sea serpent and consign it to oblivion.”
CHAPTER XVI – Zip
On the evening succeeding the interesting story told by Uncle Elk of the once famous sea serpent, the majority of the Boy Scouts were seated on the porch of the bungalow exchanging the day’s experiences. The half dozen detailed to prepare supper were as busy as they could be, for they like their waiting companions were exceedingly a-hungered. Some had spent hours in fishing for perch, bass, salmon, pickerel and lake trout; others had strolled through the fragrant, resinous woods, studying trees and bird life, and all had added to their splendid reserve of rugged health, exuberant animal spirits, and that genuine happiness which comes only with an upright life, clean habits and the constant seeking of an opportunity to do others a “good turn.”
The day had been an ideal one, overflowing with radiant sunshine, surcharged with ozone and with a sky of a crystalline clearness which Italy throughout all its historic centuries has never surpassed. The summer was drawing to a close; the nights were perceptibly longer, and there was a crisp coolness which increased after sunset and told of the coming of autumn and winter.
Scout Master Hall sat among his boys looking out upon the placid lake, the conversation rambling and not important enough to call for record. The chair in which Jack Crandall reclined while he talked had been carried inside by two of the Scouts, Doctor Spellman having advised that this should be done now that the weather was growing chilly.
Suddenly, Gerald Hume, of the Stag Patrol, who sat nearest to the end of the porch, said:
“Hello? we have a visitor.”
A general turning of heads followed. Coming along the beach from the direction of Uncle Elk’s home was a boy, probably fifteen or sixteen years old, rather tall for his age, dressed in khaki, with leggings, a close-fitting cap and short coat with belt around the waist. While his attire resembled in some respects that of the Boy Scouts, it was not the same. He swung a swagger or short cane in his right hand, and advanced with the elastic grace of an athlete. As he drew nearer it was seen that he had a pleasing face, with regular features, dark eyes and hair, and that air which while it cannot be described, yet reveals the polish and culture of the true gentleman.
Glancing aside at the boys who were busy with their culinary duties, he stepped lightly upon the porch and with a military salute called out:
“Good evening, boys; I am glad to meet you.”
Scout Master Hall and every youth sprang to their feet and made the regulation salute, the leader advancing and offering his hand.
“And I assure you we are all pleased to welcome you. You are in time to join us at supper and of course will stay over night. Are you alone?”
“I am; my name is George Burton and my home is in the city of New York. I am spending a week or two at the Hotel Samoset on Mouse Island, but must soon leave to meet my folks on their return from the other side.”
“Did you come from Mouse Island to-day?” inquired Scout Master Hall.
“I left there early this morning; crossed to Boothbay Harbor and then struck on foot, just as my brother and I did last summer in tramping through Switzerland. A farmer gave me a ride of several miles, when I resorted to shanks-mare again. Then I caught another ride – not quite so long as the former – until I came to the half-broken track through the woods, over which I believe the wagon labors that brings your supplies. I had heard that a party of Boy Scouts were stopping at the clubhouse, which I saw from the other side of the lake, so I skirted the sheet of water to this point.”
“That makes a pretty good tramp for one day,” remarked the Scout Master.
“I have done a good deal better, and I am sure it would not tax any one of you. You asked me a few minutes ago if I were alone; I am, but I expect soon to be joined by a friend.”
Young Burton laughed at the surprised looks turned toward him.
“He is my dog, named Zip.”
“He will be as welcome as his master,” said Mr. Hall.
“I know that and I thank you for us both.”
“It’s mesilf that is wondering why ye don’t kaap company,” said Mike Murphy; “me dad explained to Father Hoogan, as his rason for taking me wid him whereiver he wint, that he liked to have a pup at his heels whin he wandered round the country.”
The visitor smiled at the Irish lad’s drollery, and was on the point of answering the query, when the Scouts in charge of the dinner preparations announced that the meal was ready.
“We are all curious to hear your story, which we know is interesting,” remarked the Scout Master as he and the boys rose to their feet, “but nothing can be so attractive just now as the meal to which we have just been summoned.”
“I am of your opinion,” replied Burton, moving off with the others to the table.
“May I ask when you look for the arrival of your friend Zip?”
The guest took out his watch and glanced at its face.
“It is now half-past six; he ought to be here by seven; I must allow him some margin.”
Every one was puzzled, but made no comment. As the Scout Master had remarked, the question of satisfying their hunger dominated all others for the time.
Needless to say the whole party partook of the food with the satisfying enjoyment which waits on sound health and exuberant spirits. As Scout Master Hall quoted, all “ate like horses when you hear them eat,” the feast enlivened by continuous chatter, jest and merriment. Jack Crandall’s chair was wheeled to the table, and with a little help from his friends he did his part well. Less than half an hour thus passed, when the company adjourned to the front porch, the only absent ones being the half dozen who had to clean up and leave things ready for the morning meal. This work did not take long, and all were soon gathered together, the Scouts much interested in their guest, and what he told them about his dog Zip.
“He is a bloodhound,” he explained, “not quite two years old. The breed is not specially noted for its intelligence, but its delicacy or power of scent would be unbelievable had it not been proved over and over again. I hope to give you some demonstrations by my own dog, who is of pure breed, and with more brains than the generality of his kind.”
“Are you sure he will trail you to this place?” asked Scout Master Hall.
“There is not a particle of doubt about it. He has performed more difficult feats than that; in fact, I am trying to find something he cannot do, but so far haven’t succeeded.”
“Will you tell us the particulars of his present task?”
“I left Mouse Island this morning about seven o’clock on the Norman II, run by Captain Pinkham. Having made my arrangements with Manager Dodge, I explained to my friend Chester Greenleaf that Zip would be at the dock and board the boat at twenty minutes to two for the roundabout trip to Boothbay Harbor. I advised Greenleaf not to try to collect a ticket from Zip, as he might resent it, and the young man promised to bear the counsel in mind. All that was to be done was to take the pup to the wharf at Boothbay and leave him to do the rest.
“Zip didn’t like the idea of being left behind at Mouse, but he knew what was expected of him, and stood quietly on the dock as with a lugubrious expression he watched me go. I waved my hand at him, and he wagged his tail in return, as much as to say I couldn’t lose him in that fashion.
“Now,” said Burton animatedly, “consider what Zip has had to do. He left Mouse Island at twenty minutes to two o’clock this afternoon and reached Boothbay Harbor at about half past two, which was fully seven hours behind me. I’ll warrant he was the first one ashore, and in a twinkling picked up my trail and was speeding northward from the town. Two miles out he lost it for the time because I had a lift from a farmer, but Zip knew what that meant, and he loped on up the road, certain of discovering when I left the vehicle.”
“Is it possible,” asked Scout Master Hall, “that he could keep your scent while you were riding in a wagon?”
“I am not prepared to deny it, incredible as it may sound. A bloodhound has been known to trot twenty feet to one side of a trail along a broad highway, and not lose it for miles. Zip is so familiar with my scent that he may have detected it from the first. Be that as it may, he lost no time in nosing about the road, but detected the very spot where my foot again touched ground, and was after me like a thunderbolt. I had a second ride – not quite so long as the first – which brought me to the rough unbroken track over which your supply wagon brings your provisions. It was a long tramp to this place, and, as you know, the afternoon was gone when I arrived.”
“Did you make any attempts to throw him off your track?”
“No, for it was useless. Had a canoe been at hand I might have crossed the lake in it, but that would have been unfair, for of course no trail can be followed through water, since in the nature of things none can be made.
“Since I have been specially interested in this breed of dogs,” young Burton modestly added, “I may have picked up a few points that are not familiar to all of you.”
“There is no question as to that,” replied Scout Master Hall, “you have already proved it; you are telling us facts that are not only new to us but of special interest. All the boys feel as I do.”
A general murmur of assent followed.
“You are more complimentary than I deserve. While the bloodhound is not the most common breed of dogs in this country, I suppose most of you are familiar with his looks and history. They were once used in Cuba to track escaping prisoners and runaway slaves, and probably served the same purpose in some parts of the South before the Civil War, but in our country they were employed simply to track the negroes and were trained not to harm them, for, aside from the cruelty of the act, it was against the interests of the slave owner to injure his own property. In Cuba, the bloodhounds were like ravening tigers. The poor wretch in threshing through the thickets and swamps heard the horrible baying fast drawing nearer. His only escape was to leap among the limbs of a tree, and climb beyond reach of the brutes. If he was tardy in doing so, the black terror that burst through the undergrowth buried his fangs in his throat the next instant and never let go, no matter how desperately the man fought.”
“How was it when the poor fellow reached a perch?”
“The dogs sat down and waited until the pursuers came up and claimed the prisoner.”
“Suppose the slave took to water?”
“He was pretty sure to do that sooner or later, but it rarely availed against the marvelous scent of his enemies. After a time the man had to leave the creek or river, as it might be, and with two or three or more bloodhounds trotting along the bank with their muzzle to the ground, they were certain to pick up the scent with little or no loss of time.
“This peculiarly Spanish product became famous during the war with the Seminole Indians of Florida some seventy years ago. You know that those redskins retreated into the swamps and everglades where our soldiers could not follow them, or, if they followed, could not find them. The war dragged on year after year until the patience of the government was worn out. In its perplexity a number of Cuban bloodhounds were imported; and, although our officers took pains to declare that the dogs would be used to track and not to rend the Seminoles, an indignant protest went up against the barbarity of the act.
“But,” added young Burton with a laugh, “the crime, if it were such, worked its own remedy. Somehow or other the Indians learned to make friends with the black brutes which came to them in the swamps, and they trained them with so much skill that they used them to hunt down the stray soldiers and former owners. The use of bloodhounds in the Seminole war proved a farce.”
The guest suddenly ceased talking for a moment and said:
“It is time I heard from Zip.”
“Some accident may have befallen him or perhaps he has gone astray.”
“Both are improbable – listen!”
