The Strife of the Sea

He was an old man when he first made his appearance on the reef at the Sand Key Light. This was years ago, but one could tell it even then by the way he drew in his chin, or rather pouch, in a dignified manner as he soared in short circles over the outlying coral ledges which shone vari-colored in the sunshine beneath the blue waters of the Gulf Stream. He had fished alone for many seasons without joining the smaller and more social birds, and the keepers had grown to know him. He was a dignified and silent bird, and his stately flight and ponderous waddle over the dry reef had made it quite evident that he was a bird with a past. Sandy Shackford, the head keeper, knew him well and relied implicitly upon his judgment as to the location of certain denizens of the warm Stream. He had come back again after a month’s absence, and was circling majestically over the coral banks not a hundred fathoms from the light.

The day was beautiful and the sunshine was hot. The warm current of the Gulf flowed silently now with the gentle southwest wind, and the white sails of the spongers from Havana and Key West began to dot the horizon. Here and there a large barracouta or albicore would dart like a streak of shimmering silver through the liquid, and the old man would cast his glance in the direction of the vanishing point with a ready pinion to sweep headlong at the mullet or sailor’s-choice which were being pursued.

His gray head was streaked with penciled feathers which grew longer as they reached his neck, and his breast was colored a dull, mottled lead. His back and wings gave a general impression of gray and black, the long pinions of the latter being furnished with stiff quills which tapered with a lighter shade to the tips. His beak and pouch were of more than ordinary proportions, for the former was heavy and hooked at the end and the latter was large and elastic, capable of holding a three-pound mullet.

He soared slowly over the reef for some time, and the keeper watched him, sitting upon the rail of the lantern smoking his pipe, while his assistant filled the body of the huge lamp and trimmed its several wicks.

To the westward a slight ripple showed upon the surface of the quiet sea. The pelican sighted it and stood away toward it, for it looked like a mackerel that had come to the surface to take in the sunshine and general beauty of the day. In a moment the old man had swung over the spot at a height of about a hundred feet; then suddenly folding his wings, he straightened out his body, opened his beak, and shot straight downwards upon the doomed fish. It was literally a bolt from heaven from out of a clear sky. The lower beak expanded as it hit the water and opened the pouch into a dipper which scooped up the mackerel, while the weight of the heavy body falling from the great height carried everything below the surface with a resounding splash that could be heard distinctly upon the light. Then up he came from the dive with the fish struggling frantically in his tough leathern sack. He rested a moment to get his breath and then stretched forth his pinions again and rose in a great circle into the clear blue air.

“The old man’s fishin’ mackerel this mornin’,” said Sandy, “an’ I reckon I’ll get the dory an’ try a squid over along the edge o’ the Stream as soon as the breeze makes.”

“Well, take care you don’t lose nothin’,” said Bill with a grin.

“Whatcher mean?” snarled the older keeper.

“Nothin’,” answered the assistant.

“Then don’t say it,” said Sandy, and he walked down the steps of the spider-like structure, muttering ominously, until he reached the reef a hundred feet below, where, hauled high and dry, lay his boat. Sandy was an old man, and had depended upon false teeth for some years. The last time he had gone fishing he had lost them from his boat, and as he could not leave the light he had nearly starved to death. In desperation at last he had set the ensign union down and signaled for assistance, the second keeper Bill being ashore on leave, and after the U.S.S. Ohio had come all the way from Key West to find out the cause of the trouble he had been forced to explain to the officer his humiliating disaster. As the danger of landing in the surf had been great and the services of the man-of-war had been required for a whole day, he had been forced to listen to a lecture upon the absurdity of his behavior that did little to encourage him, and it was only his emaciated appearance and unfeigned weakness from loss of food that saved him his position as keeper.

He shoved his small boat off and sprang into her. Then he stepped the mast, and hauling aft the sheet swung her head around and stood off the reef, riding easily over the low swell. High above him was the lantern, and he looked up to see Bill gazing down at him and pointing toward the southward, where a ripple showed the breaching fish. His lines were in the after locker, and he soon had them out, one of them with a wooden squid trolling over the stern as the little craft gathered headway.

The memory of his former disaster now came upon him, and he took out his teeth, which were new, and examined the plates upon which they were fastened. A small hole in either side showed, and through these he rove a piece of line. Then he placed the teeth back in his mouth and fastened the ends of the line back of his ear.

“Let ’em drop an’ be danged to it, they’ll git back mighty quick this time,” he muttered. “I wonder where that old pelican left the school of fish?”

The old bird had satisfied his present needs and had flown away to a distant part of the outlying bank, where he was now proceeding to enjoy his catch at leisure. Far away to the northward, where Key West showed above the horizon, a long line of black specks were rapidly approaching through the air. They were the regular fishermen of the reef, and they were bound out to sea this morning for their daily meal. On they came in single file like a line of soldiers, their distance apart remaining regular and the motions of their leader followed with military precision. Every time he would strike the air several sharp strokes with his wings, the motion would be instantly taken up by the long line of followers flapping their own in unison.

The “old man” heeded them very little indeed as he quietly ate his fish, and they knew enough not to bother him. They sailed majestically past and swung in huge circles over the blue Gulf to locate the passing school.

The old man mused as he ate, and wondered at their stupidity. Even the light-keeper knew as much as they. There was the breaching school a mile away to windward, and the stupid birds were still watching him.

He saw his wives go past in line. There was old Top-knot, a wise and ugly companion of former days, her penciled feathers on her neck rubbed the wrong way. Behind her came a young son, an ingrate, who even now would try to steal the fish from him did he but leave it for a moment to dive for another. He glanced at him and ate steadily on. He would finish his fish first and look out for his ungrateful son afterwards.

Further behind came his youngest companion, one who had hatched forth twelve stout birds during the past few years and who was still supple and vigorous, her smooth feathers still showing a gloss very pretty to look at. But she gave him no notice, and he ate in silence until they all passed far beyond and sighted at last the breaching mackerel.

When he had finished he sat stately and dignified upon the sand of the reef, all alone. Far away to the southward, where the high mountains of the Cuban shore rose above the line of water when he soared aloft, a thin smoke rose from some passing steamer. To the northward the spars of the shipping at Key West stuck above the calm sea. All about was peaceful, bright, and beautiful daylight, and the ugly spider-like tower of the Sand Key Light stood like a huge sentinel as though to guard the scene.

The day was so quiet that the sullen splashes of the fisher birds sounded over the smooth surface of the sea, and the breeze scarcely rippled the blue water. The deep Gulf rolled and heaved in the sunshine, and the drone of the small breakers that fell upon the reef sounded low and had a sleepy effect upon the old fellow who had finished his fish.

He sat with his pouch drawn in and his long, heavy beak resting upon his neck, which he bent well into the shape of a letter S. Now and then he would close an eye as the glare from the white coral in the sunshine became too bright. The man in the boat was trolling back and forth through the school of fish with hardly enough way on his craft to make them strike, but every now and then he saw him haul aboard a shimmering object that struggled and fought for freedom. Above, and at a little distance, soared the pelicans. Every now and then one would suddenly fold its wings and make a straight dive from the height of a hundred feet or more, striking the sea with a splash that sent up a little jet of foam.

The sun rose higher and the scorching reef glared in the fierce light. The old man shifted his feet on the burning sand and looked about him for a spot where he might bring another fish and lie quiet for the afternoon. He turned his head toward the westward, where Mangrove Key rose like a dark green bush a few feet above the water of the reef. Two small specks were in the blue void above it, and his eyes instantly detected them and remained staring at them with unwinking gaze.

The specks grew larger rapidly, but they were a long way off yet, and he might be mistaken as to what they were. He had seen them rise above the blue line before, and if they were what he took them to be there would be trouble on the reef before long. Yes, he was not mistaken. They rose steadily, coming on a straight line for him, and now they were only a mile distant. Then he noticed one of the objects swerve slightly to the eastward and he saw they were, indeed, a pair of the great bald eagles from the Everglades of Florida.

He was an old man, and he gazed steadily at them without much concern, although he knew they meant death to all who opposed their path. They were pirates. They were the cruelest of killers and as implacable and certain in their purpose as the Grim Destroyer himself. The pelicans fishing for their living over the reef were good and easy prey. A sudden dash among them, with beak and talons cutting and slashing right and left, and there would be some full pouches of fish to empty. It was much better to let the stupid birds fill up first and then sweep among them. Then, after despoiling them of their hard-gotten catch, they would carry as much of the plunder as they cared for to some sheltering key to devour at leisure.

The white head of the leading pirate shone in the sunshine and his fierce eyes were fixed upon the fishermen. The old man was apparently unnoticed, although there was little within the sweep of that savage gaze that was left unmarked. Those eyes could see the slightest object on land or sea far beyond the reach of ordinary vision. They had even this morning, probably, been watching the fishermen from some distant key miles away to the northward.