Note From Charles: a dear friend of ours has written a book as described below (a noncommercial venture). We're posting one of his stories for your enjoyment.  There are 10 stories in the book.  His name is Lyman Wilson and he lives just down the Bayou from us. He's a fisherman and therefore "a boat person".  We hope you enjoy his story. You can write to him to let him know:  This e-mail address is being protected from spambots. You need JavaScript enabled to view it

 INTRODUCTION

 These stories are originals, but they were inspired by memories of incidents related by my grandparents, parents, and other old friends. These people had lived their early lives on the bayou and were familiar with the superstitions and life on the bayou. Story telling was used on the bayou to entertain themselves at the end of a long day, and they were also intended to scare children into behaving. The stories were filled with superstition and were often used to teach a moral. In these stories I hope that I have been able to give some insight into life on the bayou sixty years or so ago. Life on the bayous of south Louisiana today is quite different. Most of the people who spend any time on the bayous today are hunters or recreational fishermen. The camps that belong to these people are built for the purpose of shelter for the week end or for the duration of the hunting season or fishing trip, but even though they are to be used for short periods of time they are filled with more modern conveniences than the camps which the old bayou folks enjoyed. After the hunting season or fishing trip is over, these outdoor sportsmen return to their houses in the towns.

  Life on the bayous as my parents and grandparents knew it is gone forever.

THE CHARMER

Mabel Landry sat on her front gallery in the early morning enjoying the cool east breeze coming across the bayou. It was morning in early spring, the willow trees that lined the bayou were still a light green with early growth, and the snow up north had melted and had reached south Louisiana causing the little bayou to overflow its banks. The birds returning to the bayou after the winter migration farther south were chirping loudly in the trees next to the camp. It was a beautiful morning on the bayou, Mable thought.

Reluctantly, Mabel eased out of the rocking chair on the porch and stretched. Taking another look at the serenity around her, she started toward the little shed where she stored all of the garden vegetables, meats, and figs that she has put up in Mason gars. Spring had arrived again and new vegetables would soon grow in the garden; so Mabel thought that there was no longer a need to be conservative with the canned stock. She was thinking that maybe she would get some salt meat out of the crock and a couple of jars of black-eyed peas and a jar of preserved figs. She knew that Alvin, her husband, would be happy with such a meal because peas was his favorite dish. As soon as she opened the shed door, Mabel heard a buzzing sound. Cautiously she put only her head inside and peered in. Her breathing stopped when she saw the largest wasp next she had ever seen right at the center of the shed's ceiling. At least a hundred large wasps clung to a dinner plate size nest. Slowly she closed the door and went back to tell Alvin. Sitting on the side of the bed she said, "Wake up, Alvin, we have got a real big problem."

Alvin rolled over on his back and looked up at Mabel. "Woman, he said, "what is so important that you have to wake me up this early in the morning? I worked all night running my lines. I need some sleep" Mabel would not be put off. "Alvin, if you want to eat today, you better listen. There is a huge wasp nest on the ceiling of the shed and I don't dare go in there to get something to cook for dinner." Alvin got out of bed and started putting on his clothes. He knew better than to argue with Mabel. If he didn't do something about those wasps, he would not eat. Alvin thought to himself, "I thought that when we moved down the bayou there would be few problems, but Mabel seems to find trouble no matter where we are." He was worried about how to get rid of the wasps because he was very allergic to stings, so he had to find a way to get those out of the shed without getting stung.

Just as Alvin was about to ask Mabel if she had made some coffee, there was a loud knock at the front door. "Who could that be coming to visit at this time of the morning," he wondered. At the door was one of the strangest looking men Alvin had ever seen on the bayou. He was wearing a long black topcoat that was open in the front revealing black trousers and a black shirt. Even his shoes and exposed socks were solid black. Alvin also noted that his skin was darker than most Cajuns that spent their days working in the sun.

The dark man held his hand out to Alvin. "Good morning, he said. "I am Sidney Charman. I have set up my worship tent about a mile down the bayou and I am visiting everyone in the surrounding area to invite them to the  services on Wednesday and Friday nights. I am living in the tent, but I have no stove or, for that matter, no food. I have to rely on the generosity of people like yourself for enough food to keep me going."  Alvin, who had little regard for traveling preachers, at first thought of telling the dark man that he was sorry he had no food to give him, but then a devilish thought came to him. "We have some food in gars that my wife preserved for us in that shed. Go in and help yourself to as much as you might want."

"Oh, thank you kindly," said the preacher as he turned and walked toward the shed. When he reached the small building he opened the door wide and looked in. Immediately he saw the large wasp nest on the ceiling. Alvin, watching from several yards behind, saw the preacher standing in the doorway just staring up at the wasp nest. What Alvin saw next he could not believe. He rubbed his eyes with his hand and looked again. The wasps were falling dead from the nest on to the floor of the shed. All the while the preacher kept his eyes locked on to the nest. When the last vicious insect had hit the floor, the preacher walked into the shed. He looked around at the selection and then chose the last gars of black-eyed peas and the figs. He stuffed the big pockets of his black coat with gars and then raised the bottom of the coat to make a pocket to carry more.

"Darn," Alvin thought. "There goes the last of the figs and peas. However, he knew that he could not go back on his word. His dastardly trick had backfired.   The black stranger bent forward as he walked to keep the gars from falling out of the coat. "Thank you, kind sir," he said as he walked by Alvin.  "You are a very generous man." He smiled and added, "Perhaps, I will return a favor for you some day."

  Mabel, who had been watching from a window, came outside after the stranger left and shouted at Alvin. "I can't believe you gave that man the last of our peas and figs!"   "Mabel," Alvin said calmly, "if you had been watching the whole thing from the window you would understand. You just saw the last part."

"How did he get in the shed with all the wasps on the ceiling?" Mabel  wanted to know.   "It was the strangest thing I ever have seen," replied Alvin. "He just stood in the doorway and stared at those wasps and they began to drop from the nest dead on the floor. The more he gazed upon them, the more they fell until they were all dead . Then he just walked in and picked out the peas and figs, thanked me, and left.

  "Well," said Mabel, "at least I will be able to go in the shed now to get something for dinner, but it won't be your favorite peas and figs."

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