Free trader-journal. (Ottawa, Ill.) 1916-1920, 1919-08-11


II was the good priest Of the little
place, Father Serapion. disguised in
labor; like q true Benedictinc, pray
ing with his strong and skillful hands
Father Serapim and Charlie were
old friends. and Charlie took occasion
TO contide In him with regard to To
bias, md, to his huge delight. dls"Ov
er,d that a man answering very close
~ to his description had dropped In
there with a large sponger two days
before. lie had only stopped long
enough 10 hul rum at the little store
near the landing and had been off
again through the blight, sailing west.
Father Scraplon, who knew Charlie
Websters shooting ground promised
to send swift messenger should any
thing further of interest to uS come
TO his knowledge within the next week
or 50.
Then we sailed away from Behring's
point, due west through the North
blight. Morning found Us sailing
through Il maze of lov-lying desert is
shape and size, with practically moth
ing to distinguish one from another
We had hoped IT, renCh our camp,
out on the other side of the island.
that evening. but that lodging the
shoals and sticking in the mud hHd
considerably delayed us. Besides.
though Charlie and the captain both
hated to admit it, we had lost our
way. So night began to fall and, as
there Is no sailing in such waters Mt
night, we once more cast anchor I'M
der gloomy. bluck shnpe Of lind. cX-
ceedingly lonesome and forgotten
looking, which we agreed to call Lit
tie Wood cay"-til morning.
Soon all We're asleep except Sailor
and me. lay awake for Il long time
watching the square yard Of stars that
shone down through the hatch in our
cabin ceiling like little window look
ing into eternity, while the waters lap
ped and Tapped outside, and the night
talked strangely to itself. Next morn
ing Charlie and the captain We're
forced to own up that the island. dis
covered to the day, was not Little
Wood cay. No humiliation goes deep
er with sailing man than having to
ask his way. Besides. who was there
to ask In that solitude? Doubtless a
cormorant flying overhead knew 1t.
but no one thought TO ask him.
However, we were in luck, for after
sailing about n bit, we came upon two
lonely negroes standing up in their
boats and thrusting long poles into the
water. They were sponglng most
melancholy of oCcupAtions--nnd they
looked forlorn enough In the still
dawn. But they had smile for cur
plight. 1t was evidently good joke
to have mistaken Sapodilla cay for
Little Wood cay OF course we should
have gone--"so." And so" we pres
emily went, not without rewardng
them for their information with two
generous drinks of old Jamaica rum.
One Of our reasons for seeking Lit
tie Wood cay. which it proved had
been close all the time, was that 1t Is
one Of the few Gays where one can get
fresh water. Good water here says
the chart. We wanted to refill some
of our jars, and so we landed there,
glad to stretch our legs, while old Tom
cooked our breakfast on the beach, I'M
der sapodila tree.
Now that we knew where we were,
1t was clear, bur by no means careless
sailing to our camp. We were making
for what Is known as the Wide Open
Ing Il sort of estuary into which
1istless stream or two crawl through
mangrove bushes from the interior
swamps.
Here, short distance from the
bank, ON some slightly ascending
rocky ground. under the spreading