The Boy Chums in the Gulf of Mexico

  CHAPTER II.

  MR. DRIVER.

  THE stranger's smile robbed his words of their hardness.

  "Strangers, yes," Charley replied, "Fools, no."

  "No offense intended," said the man, quickly. "Strangers will sometimestake advice but fools will not. My advice to you strangers is to keepout of places like this and not to make friends with other strangers. Idon't suppose you know who that man is who just left you."

  "He's a retired sea captain," said Captain Westfield. "He was giving ussome pointers about the sponge business. Mighty pleasant an' obligin'fellow. Mighty fair-spoken."

  "Bless your simple little souls," exclaimed the stranger. "He's nocaptain, active or retired. He's the runner for this place. Lucky youhaven't any of you drank your coffee yet. You'd be waking up in somealley bye-and-bye with your heads aching from knock-out drops and yourpockets turned inside out. My, but you were easy."

  "I don't reckon any one would dare do such a thing in broad daylight,"Captain Westfield declared.

  "It's been done in this place a dozen times. And the victim's kicksnever did any good after it happened, for there was always a dozenGreeks ready to go on the stand and swear that it was only a case ofdrunkenness on the victim's part. Better get out of here."

  The humbled little party arose and followed their conductor out to thesidewalk. As they passed through the crowd they could not help butnotice the wrathful glances the sitters bestowed upon the one who hadcheated them of their victims.

  "I guess we have acted pretty green," Charley admitted, as they passedoutside, "but we were so eager to learn about the sponge business thatwe forgot caution. Besides, one does not look for such tricks in alittle town like this. It's not like a big city where one has to bealways on his guard against strangers."

  The stranger favored the members of the little party with a closerscrutiny than he had yet bestowed upon them.

  "So you are figuring on going into the sponge business, eh?" he asked.

  "We may try it a bit if we find out that it pays as well as we haveheard tell of," answered Captain Westfield, cautiously, "but it'smighty hard to find out anything definite about it from these Greeks."

  "Oh, there's big money in it all right," said their new friend. "Youmight make a go of it. You are a pretty husky, determined-looking lotand would soon get on to the Greekish tricks. It's a risky business,though. I don't advise anyone to take it up."

  "We've encountered a few risks in other lines," said Charlie, modestly."We are willing to take a few chances if there's money enough in it totempt us."

  The stranger pulled out his watch and looked at the time. "My name isDriver," he remarked. "I own a store over on the next street in theAmerican section. Business is slack at this time of day and I will showyou around a bit, if you wish. My clerks can look out for the trade foran hour or two."

  "No need of thanks," he said as the Captain accepted his offergratefully. "If you decide to go into the sponge business, you willneed lots of provisions and I hope to sell them to you. We Americansdo not get any of the Greek trade and we are always glad to secure anew customer. Now I suppose you want to know about the profit side ofthe business first. Well, I can not give you exact figures but I knowthat all engaged in the business are making big money. All these bigbuildings you see have been built out of sponging, and they do notrepresent a hundredth part of the money made out of the business.There is an enormous amount sent back to Greece every month through thepost-office and bank here. I know Greeks who landed here only a fewyears ago with nothing but the clothes on their backs--and those weremighty poor--that are wealthy men now and they made their fortunes outof sponges. Oh, there's big money in it all right. But you can lookinto that part of the business closer later on. Now, I want to showyou something of the sponges themselves. We will go down to the harborfirst."

  The interested little party followed him as he led the way along a softsand road flanked by scrub palmettos.

  Their guide paused beside one of the several large buildings standingclose to the road. "This is a clipping shed," he said.

  The building was open on one side and was filled with a crowd of oldmen, women and young boys, all Greeks. Before each was a pile of roughsponges from which they were clipping the spoilt parts with greatshearing shears. In one corner, a man worked over a big screw-press,pressing the severed fragments of sponges into huge compact bales.

  "That part isn't important enough to waste much time looking at," Mr.Driver said, as he turned away. "Come on and I'll show you somethingworth seeing."

  As they followed along behind their guide, the boys became sensibleof a strong, pleasant, appetizing odor in the air, an odor which grewstronger as they advanced. A turn in the road brought them suddenlyupon the source of the odor. On the shore of a quiet little land-lockedharbor, blazed dozens of small camp-fires over which sat great ironkettles. On pieces of canvas laid upon the ground were piles of freshbeef and mutton. Over each pile worked several Greeks cutting the meatwith the sheaf knives into tiny squares about an inch in size. OtherGreeks were dumping the little square pieces into the kettles, whilestill others kept the contents stirred and the fires under the kettlesburning briskly.

  "They are putting down the meat for their next voyage," explained Mr.Driver. "They roast it in its own fat, put it into stone jars, and pourthe fat over it. As soon as the fat cools and congeals it forms anair-tight covering which keeps the meat from spoiling."

  "If it tastes half as good as it smells, it must be delicious," Charleyremarked.

  Chris viewed the cooking operation with professional jealousy. "Golly,I bet dey can't cook like dis nigger," he declared, "I spect demkettles ain't none too clean noway."

  Captain Westfield gave but scant attention to the trying-out process.His interest was centered on the big fleet of schooners anchored nearshore. They were over a hundred in number and were of all sizes anddesigns. They made a pretty sight lying gracefully close together inthe little harbor. But the old sailor soon strolled on to where groupsof Greeks were building and repairing boats on the shore. He inspectedtheir work with a critical eye, but he was soon lost in admiration.

  "Lads," he exclaimed, "I never saw such workmen before. They areturnin' out tight, neat seaworthy little crafts with no tools but a sawand a hatchet. Ain't those queer lookin' crafts though."

  The boats were about thirty feet in length, sharp at both bow andstern, and of enormous depth for their size. True to their love forbright colors the Greeks had painted each plank a different hue and thelittle vessels looked like floating rainbows.

  The captain viewed their single masts, which inclined aft at an angleof forty-five degrees, with deep-sea scorn.

  "It's clean against Nature for a mast to be set that way," he declared."It ain't regular or ship-shape."

  "Those small crafts are used as diving boats," Mr. Driver explained."They carry a big square sail, but most of them are equipped withengines also. They are great sea boats and will ride out a gale almostas well as the schooners."

  His explanations were interrupted by loud talking close at hand andthe little party, full of curiosity, hastened to the spot from whichthe uproar came.

  In the center of a circle of curious onlookers, a large man wearing amarshal's badge was slipping a pair of handcuffs on the wrists of aslender boyish-looking young fellow.

  "No need to put those things on me, Mr. Officer," the lad wasprotesting, passionately. "I'll go along with you without any trouble.I've only acted within my rights and all I want is a fair trial."

  "Anything you say can be used against you at your trial," cautioned themarshal.

  "I don't care, I admit I shot two of those treacherous Greeks. It wasthe only thing to do. When it came on to blow a gale, they refused tocut the cable, and work the schooner. It was a case of making them obeyorders and get her off before the seas or lose my ship. I only wish Ihad shot more of them. They have been laying for me ever since to slipa knife into me and chuck me overboard. I haven't dared take a
wink ofsleep for three days and two nights."

  "Poor fellow," said Mr. Driver, as the marshal led away his protestingcaptive. "I expect it happened just as he says--an open mutiny,compelling him to shoot--but every Greek in his crew will go on thestand and swear that it was a case of cold-blooded murder. Fortunately,the judge is wise to Greek methods and the law deals gently withcommanders."

  "He looked mighty young to be a captain," said Captain Westfield.

  "It's this way," Mr. Driver explained, "the law compels the Greeks tohave an American captain for each schooner and diving boat, and theyhire the youngest and, therefore, cheapest man that they can get. It'sa dog's life, out alone for months with a gang that doesn't speaka word of English. As long as the captain is content to be a merefigurehead he can get along without serious trouble, but the minutehe runs counter to their wishes there is a row. But time is flying,and I must get back to the store. If you will come back with me I'llintroduce you to a man who knows more about sponging than anotherAmerican in the country."

  "Just a moment, lads," said the Captain, as they turned to go. "Whichof those schooners do you like the best?"

  The two chums unhesitatingly indicated a beautiful two-masted,snow-white schooner that seemed to rest as loftily on the water as afloating swan. The grace and beauty of exquisite lines marked her outfrom the many shapely schooners surrounding her. In large gilt letterson either side of her bow was her name "Beauty".

  "She's my choice too," declared the Captain. "I wish we owned her. Iain't never seen a prettier model."