He was a man about forty years of age, strongly built, but sallow with the sallowness of the native Floridian. His face was kindly in expression but stamped on its every line was a look of uneasiness and apprehension. It was not an expression of fear but rather the look of a brave man who was simply on his guard every moment against expected dangers.
"I sho' have got to ask you-all to excuse me fur the way I dun greeted you," he apologized, "but, you see, strangers are mighty scarse around hyar an' one has to be plum' careful. I'se powerful glad to see a new face though--it's been mighty nigh two years since I had talk with a stranger. I reckon, you-alls must be some hungry. I'll rustle up a little supper while you-all gives me your tale."
With a deftness that indicated long batching experience, he cut great slices of ham and placed them to broil over the coals, mixed a pone of corn bread and put it to bake in a Dutch oven, and buried a dozen big yams to roast among the embers. While he was thus engaged, Charley related the story of their voyage and shipwreck omitting only any mention of the gold. His story was frequently interrupted by his host's exclamations, "I swan, an' dew tell." When the lad had finished, the stranger beamed upon him with evident pleasure. "I swan, hit's jis' like a novel I read once," he declared, "hit was writ by a fellow called Russell, Clark Russell, if I don't disremember his name. I don't reckon his story was true though. I 'lows he just made it up outer his head--but the vittals is ready now, you-alls jis' back up to the table thar an' helps yourselves."
The hungry boys needed no second invitation but fell to work on the tender juicy ham and sugary yams with hearty appetites while their host as he ate, watched them with evident pleasure at their enjoyment. When all had finished, he put away the dishes, filled his corn-cob pipe, and leaned back in his chair against the wall.
"You-alls can't go back to whar yu left the captain an' the little nigger to-night, noways," he observed.
"No," Charley agreed, "but we would like to start back early in the morning if we can get a wagon or a boat."
"Thar ain't no fitten road for a wagon leading up the coast," observed their host. "I owns that little sloop anchored down thar by the dock. I reckon, you-alls could make out with her. I don't reckon them Wrights would stop you-alls from going if they understood jis' how things stood. I don't 'low they would be so pesky pisen mean as all that. I'd like to go with you-alls an' see that ole captain an' that little nigger, I sho' would."