the stalls, they were quick to swoop 
down, pick it up, and return to their 
post of observation to devour it and wait 
for the next bonne bouche. 
I was told that these buzzards flew 
regularly from Charleston to Savannah 
on market days, which were held on al- 
ternate days of the week, and in this 
dual capacity they did service to both 
cities and with much profit to themselves. 
We then wandered down to the dock 
■to see the vessels and incidentally to 
watch the negro and white boys fishing 
from the wharf. It being summer, a 
number of sloops and schooners were 
moored, stern on, along the wharf, loaded 
with "watermelons, and in charge ^ of 
negro skippers. The melons were being 
loaded into carts, being pitched from the 
boat to the cart drivers. At stated in- 
tervals, it seemed, a small one "would be 
dropped by the catcher, and as it burst 
into fragments on the v/harf the youth- 
ful anglers, who had been watching with 
one eye on their “corks,” and the other 
for just such a contingency, dropped 
their lines, and emulating the market- 
house buzzards in their eagerness, rushed 
to the feast to the great amusement of 
the crowd. Watermelons were plentiful 
and not subject to war prices. Then sit- 
ting on a wharf timber my friend re- 
lated this story: 
A diver, in his suit of submarine ar- 
mor, was working on the bottom of a 
schooner, and the ladder by which he 
had descended was leaning against the 
wharf. There was a vacant space along 
side which was soon occupied by a sloop 
loaded with watermelons, in charge of 
a country negro. He made fast to the 
wharf with stern lines near to the lad- 
der. At this juncture the diver began 
to ascend the ladder, and as his helmet 
and shoulders appeared above the water, 
he turned the front of his helmet to- 
ward the negro, and as the huge goggle 
eyes of the monster stared directly at 
him, the negro in consternation and fear, 
his eyes bulging. from their sockets, his 
jaw relaxed and mouth wide open, he 
emitted a howl of dismay and fell back- 
ward among his melons transfixed with 
terror and paralyzed "with fear,, and no 
wonder. 
The diver taking in the situation, and 
also taking a melon from the deck, de- 
scended the ladder and disappeared be- 
low the surface of the water. Then the 
spell was broken. The demoralized ne- 
gro, with fears for the safety of his 
cargo, regained his voice and the use 
of his legs, and leaping to the wharf 
ran yelling and shouting for help. 
“Whar kin I fin’ a constabel? De deb- 
biTs stealin’ mah wattermilyons and tot- 
in’ ’em down to hell! Whar kin I fin’ 
a prechah an’ a constabel! Oh, Lawdy, 
Lawdy, wat’ll Marse Dixon say when I 
goes home ’doubt any money and ’doubt 
any wattermilyons. He’ll skin me alive. 
Oh, Lawdy, Lawdy!” 
When the terrified darkey was pacified 
and taken back to his sloop, the diver’s 
helper had unscrewed and removed his 
helmet, and with the melon still under 
his arm, he said: 
“What’s the matter with you, boy? 
Jlere’s a quarter for your melon; I just 
took it down below to cool it. Didn’t 
you ever see a diver before?” 
“No, sah; not a hell diver; nebber did 
see sich a project. I wuz jist shuah 
dat yo wuz de ole he debbil hiself, hons 
tail an’ all. Tank yo fo’ de quartah, 
sah, debbil or no debbil.” 
The good-natured crowd which had 
collected began to buy the old negro’s 
melons, and soon half his cargo was dis- 
posed of. 
“Tank yo, gemmans,” he said, now 
thoroughly restored to his usual good 
humor, “tank yo-alls fo’ yor gen’rosity. 
When I go home I gwine tell Marse Dix- 
on how de debbil he holp’ me to sell mah 
wattermilyons.” 
T he next day I went from Charles- 
ton to Savannah, and having fin- 
ished my business, one of the firm 
went with me for a stroll. He seemed to 
be quite a sportsman and talked of fish- 
5ALT-WATER DREAM CMU8.1 
ing and shooting. As we went through 
the fish market I saw some fish that 
were new to me. One he called a weak- 
fish resembled the weakfish of the Pat- 
apsco except that the coloration was 
lighter and more silvery, and had small 
dark spots instead of blotches. A fish 
he called a whiting was the same as the 
kingfish or barb of the Chesapeake. 
There were several very large sturgeons 
on the floor of the market, of which he 
said the negroes were very fond. The 
entire roof of the market-house was oc- 
cupied by buzzards, which my companion 
assured me were some, if not all, of the 
birds that I saw the day before in Char- 
leston, and corroborated the fact of their 
flight between the two cities on market 
days. 
We then walked along the wharf on 
the river to see the vessels, and among 
ethers we came to a large batteau, on 
the stern deck of which an old negro 
with a grey beard was smoking his pipe, 
while a mulatto boy was stowing a lug 
sail. My friend accosted the old negro 
with: 
“How d’ye. Uncle Peter; how are you 
getting along?” 
“Jist tolabel, IMarse Charles, got a 
touch of roomatiz in’ mah laigs yit.” 
“I’m afraid. Uncle Peter, that you 
cat too much catfish and rice.” This 
seemed to touch a tender spot, foi? Ea 
was quick to say: 
“Oh, don’t Marse Charles, dat nebber 
happened in de worl’. Jist a pack 
lies ob dat lyin’ yaller rascal, Henry.” 
“Well, good bye. Uncle Peter; go up 
to the store in the morning for some 
freight for the plantation.” 
We passed on, and while seated on a 
heavy spar “Marse Charles” told the 
story of Uncle Peter, which he declared 
was as true as gospel. The batteau 
Uncle Peter, and the mulatto Henry 
belonged to a planter up the river. Ar- 
riving at the wharf, one day, just be- 
fore sundown, and after mooring the 
boat to the wharf. Uncle Peter went 
uptown to report and purchase some- 
thing for supper. He returned with a 
catfish, some rice, and a pint flask of rum 
in his pocket. He gave the viands to 
Henry to cook for supper, and after a 
smoke sat with his back against the 
mast, and began imbibing the rum while 
Henry was busy at the galley. Mean- 
while Uncle Peter applied himself as- 
siduously to the flask which he finally 
emptied. 
Not long afterw'ard Henry called out: 
“suppah’ raidy. Uncle Petah.” But Un- 
cle Peter Avas oblivious to all things ter- 
restrial and there was no response but a 
grunt. In due course Henry called again 
and again: “Yo suppah’s raidy. Uncle 
Petah and gittin’ col’,” but without avail. 
Then Henry cut the catfish in two, and 
divided the rice into two equal parts, 
and began eating his own supper, mean- 
v/hile calling Uncle Peter at intervals. 
But Uncle Peter was still enjoying the 
soporific effects of the generous liquor. 
At last Henry had eaten his share of 
the supper but was not fully satisfied 
and began poaching on Uncle Peter’s 
preserve. He cut off a small piece of 
fish, and then scooped up a spoonful of 
rice and gravy, and continuing in this 
wise, almost unconsciously, he finally 
licked the platter clean. He had eaten 
his own supper and Uncle Peter’s as well. 
Then realizing the enormity of the offense, 
and not knowing what to do began wail- 
ing to himself: “Oh, man, man; Uncle 
Petah’ll kill me; he’ll tie me to de mas' 
and whup me mos’ to deff.” Just then 
a happy thought struck him. He car- 
ried the empty pan and dish with the 
bones, skin and some scattering grains 
of rice to where Uncle Peter was snoring 
like an alligator and lost to all sense 
of feeling. He laid some of the bones 
and skin and some rice in Uncle Peter’s 
lap; then he smeared gravy and rice on 
his beard, and finished by greasing his 
hands with gra"vy and laying the pan 
and dish close beside him, and waited 
further developments while he smoked 
his pipe on the after deck, in fear and 
trembling. Then he rolled himself in 
an old counterpane and tried to sleep. 
Two hours later Uncle Peter roused 
himself to partial consciousness, and 
feeling a goneness and gnawing at the 
pit of his stomach, and realizing the 
cause of it, he called out: “Henry! 
Henry! whar’s mah suppah? Yo’ bin 
long time a-cookin’ it. Hurry up, Hen- 
ry!” Then Henry drawing near him 
^^CONTINUED ON PAGE 625)^ 
