14 
FOREST AND STREAM 
Aj! 
i 
Shooting and Gaming Along Southern Waters 
A What to Take and How to Use it Article 
30 D many years ago, more 
than I care to enumerate now, 
I was living in Southern 
South Carolina, and as the 
seasons passed, enjoyed the 
good shootings then to be had. 
My dear friend Sam was my 
companion; a big man, good 
natured. Sam’s smile was illuminating. I never 
knew him to be vexed except once, 
and that was excusable indeed. Alex, the 
colored boy, our paddler, let fall overhoard 
Sam’s $250 gun in ten foot df water, as the boat 
was landing. I shouted and almost followed the 
gun. Sam pulled me back; his face wrinkled. 
Alex, from black turned “yaller,” and dropped 
in the bottom of the /boat. 
“Oh, Sam,” said I, “what will you do without 
your favorite gun?” 
“Use the other,” said he. “Don’t worry about 
it; there are other guns. Alex you are care¬ 
less.” 
The gun was recovered. That was Sam’s tem¬ 
perament. And what a beautiful shot he was 
on all kinds of game. So good, so kind, my 
memory of him will forever in this life be green. 
Often and often, I am with him in retrospect, 
and I know, almost know, he is at my side and 
is with me again afield. His hand has been 
stilled these many years, and the time is grow¬ 
ing nearer and dearer, when indeed he 
will be at my side forever and we will again 
have the joys of shooting or their equivalent of 
happiness. 
Now had the season returned 
When the nights grow colder and longer, 
And the retreating sun, the sign of 
The scorpion enters. 
Birds of passage sailed through the 
Leaden air from the ice-lbound 
Desolate northern hays to the shores 
Of tropical islands. 
—Longfellow. 
This was the time we had been looking for 
and had prepared for a three wedc’s camp hunt. 
The boats were ready—two of them—one a long, 
roomy batteau, which carried the mess chest, 
containing, coffee, sugar, a pound or so of tea. 
self-raising flour, pilot bread, a big side of smok¬ 
ed bacon, mess pork, beans, two large “Ai” 
hams, a bag of dried peaches, plenty of pota¬ 
toes, a goodly showing of onions, for what 
would the camper do without this aromatic veg¬ 
etable—the big white Bermuda variety prefer¬ 
red; salt, pepper and a bucket of good butter. 
Enough of all these to supply four camp ap¬ 
petites for about three weeks filled the old mess 
chest full. 
The knowledge of just how much to take in 
the way of provisions is of great advantage. In 
fitting out, the writer has found the army ra¬ 
tion a good basis. And for good, plain living, 
the ration itself is good and satisfying. The 
ration is herewith given in ounces, being one ra¬ 
tion for one day for one person: 
Flour, 18 ounces; corn meal, 20 ounces; hard 
By Dick Swiveller. 
bread, 16 ounces; rice, 2 ounces; hominy, 2 
ounces; peas and beans, 2 1-2 ounces; salt, 3-4 
ounce; tea, 1-4 ounce; sugar, 2 1-2 ounces; ba¬ 
con, 12 ounces; pork, 12 ounces; fresh beef, 20 
ounces; soft bread, 18 ounces; coffee, 1 1-2 
ounce. 
It is understood that there is usually but 
one meat ration and bread ration issued at one 
time, i. e., if pork or bacon is issued, fresh 
meat is not, if hard bread, (hard tack), soft 
bread is not. This ration will give an idea 
of how to proportion the provisiops to the num¬ 
ber of people going into camp, and thus avoid 
taking too great a quantity of anything. 
Then came the camp kit bag of heavy can¬ 
vas, which could boast of a two and a half gal¬ 
lon camp kettle, a couple of mess pans, two 
frying pans—one large, with long handle, old- 
fashion waffle irons, with long handles, that 
bake one big, square waffle, at a time; waffle 
irons of Colonial times were they, and still in 
use in many parts of the South and old states. 
I think now, and always will think, that a square 
waffle is far superior to the round waffle serv¬ 
ed in quarters. Think of the old-fashioned 
square Waffle done to a delicate, crispy brown, 
the gilt-edge butter running down and into 
those little brown squares, then the maple syrup, 
and hot coffee—Java of course. Weill, we feel 
this old world contains some things to live for. 
There were the tin dishes, plates and cups, 
knives, forks and spoons, a couple of axes— 
blades protected by leather caps—- a camp hatch¬ 
et, some nails, a ball of strong twine. There 
are lots of things that are handy in camp, and 
when the distance is to be traversed in a boat 
they may as well be carried. 
There was a tent of ample dimensions to ac¬ 
commodate the party. The waterproof box con¬ 
taining the ammunition, plenty of heavy blank¬ 
ets, rubber overcoats, two rubber blankets, in 
fact everything to insure comfort in all kinds 
of weather. 
My friend and I had a kit bag between us 
containing extra outer and under clothing, for 
the duck shooter, even in Southern waters, 
must go not only warmly clad, but be prepared 
to change his clothing, as he is occasionally ex¬ 
posed to a drenching rain or an involuntary bath 
in the river. 
The batteau carried all this plunder neatly 
stowed, and was captained by the irrepressible 
Joe, our cook. 
The second craft was built with a sharp bow 
plenty of room amidship, flat-bottomed, and ar¬ 
ranged for two shooters to sit forward in the 
cockpit, one behind the other, the gunner aft to 
rise and shoot, and the shooter forward to keep 
his seat. Alex a big-headed, thick-lipped negro 
with an enormous mouth and contagious laugh¬ 
ter, paddled this boat. 
The stars were beginning to pale in the east, 
when, with boats, plunder and “darks” loaded 
on two wagons we directed our course south 
for Horse Creek, five miles distant, a small, 
rapid stream on which we would launch the 
boats and be carried to the Savannah River, 
about two hundred miles by river above the city 
of Savannah. 
“Mars Dick, did yer hea dem ganders, dis yer 
mawnin?” said Alex, as we started off. 
“No, how many were there?” 
“Dunno; spects dar was a heap on em; I 
coodent see um; dey was a cacklin big; pears 
like dey must be sort ob makin’ up der minds 
fer ter light; spect dey seed de ribbar, an was 
a holdin’ a meetin’ about getting down outen 
high places.” 
“What time did yer hea dem ganders, boy? 
H'aint ben no ganders go over sense fo’ clock; 
den dare am no niggers what gits up afor dat 
time, onless dars sumfin’ werry perticlar; 
baint gitten up fo’ enny good.” 
“Look a hea, Mista Josef! I was on a per¬ 
ticlar chore for de ole woman, fer ter cut some 
wood afore I jined you uns in de village. Taint 
none of yo’ bisnis. Yer kin put dat in yer pipe 
and smoke it.” 
“Mebbe taint none o’ my bisnis. I was a givin 
yo advice, nigger, fo’ ter point out de way ar. 
de path what yo outer walk in. Dar was a cul- 
lered individual onct dat made right smart of 
hisself, dressed all up in fine clothes and put- 
tin on a heap of style in de church, an’ outen de 
church, and when all de congerigation was a 
shoutin’ halleloo! halleloo! glory sinners; bress 
de Lawd; I’se a gwyne to fine, I’se a gwyne to 
fine de army ob de Lawd, an thar was nuff sperit 
ter move any nigger ter come forward ter de 
mourner's bench onless he was so alfired bigety, 
an de hardness ob de heart wuz so ompressa- 
ble dat he couldn’t see his way clear jis't den 
ter make his lection sure. Dis bigety nigger ed 
just set an set, an nebber moved a mussil ob de 
face, an looked like he wanted ter say: ‘What’s 
all dese niggers makin’ sich a time fur, a hol- 
lerin, and’ a gronin, and a stampin ob de feet?’ 
“I sort ob kept my eye on dat bigety nigger, 
an wen Mars Posey wuz a loosin’ cawn by de 
sackful at nite, an’ one night when a sack what 
wuz took wuz busted an de man what took the 
sack an toted it wid de hole down and didn’t 
know noffin bout it, an de cawn trail all along 
de groun. In de mawnin bimeby, whin de sun 
wuz riz, Massa Posey seed de corn scatted all 
along on the ground, he jis foffered hit up like 
a pinter dog, an bimeby he com to de place whar 
de big-headed, bigety, alfired proud dress-up nig¬ 
ger lived. Den dat nigger come down offen de 
high hoss an go befo de esquire to be axed, 
“Who done took de cawn?’ 
“Now, boy Alex, yo jist mind de way yer a 
giyan in dis world, an' alters have a spect fo 
dem what givs yo advice.” 
T~ 
