Down South or Yacht Adventure in Florida — 01 - Making a Florida Port

This Book IS AFFECTIONATELY DEDICATED.

PREFACE.

"Down South" is the fifth and last volume but one of the "Great Western Series."

The action of the story is confined entirely to Florida; and this fact may seem to belie the title of the Series.

But the young yachtman still maintains his hold upon the scenes of his earlier life in Michigan, and his letters come regularly from that State.

If he were old enough to vote, he could do so only in Michigan; and therefore he has not lost his right to claim a residence there during his temporary sojourn in the South.

Besides, half his ship's company are Western boys, who carry with them from "The Great Western" family of States whatever influence they possess in their wanderings through other sections of the grand American Union.

The same characters who have figured in other volumes of the Series are again presented, though others are introduced.

The hero is as straightforward, resolute, and self-reliant as ever.

His yacht adventures consist of various excursions on the St. Johns River, from its mouth to a point above the head of ordinary navigation, with a run across to Indian River, on the sea-coast, a trip up the Ocklawaha, to the Lake Country of Florida, and shorter runs up the smaller streams.

The yachtmen and his passengers try their hand at shooting alligators as well as more valuable game in the "sportsman's paradise" of the South, and find excellent fishing in both fresh and salt water.

Apart from the adventures incident to the cruise of the yacht in so interesting a region as Florida, the volume, like its predecessors in the Series, has its own story, relating to the life-history of the hero.

But his career mingles with the events peculiar to the region in which he journeys, and many of his associates are men of the "sunny South."

In any clime, he is the same young man of high aims and noble purposes.

The remaining volume will follow him in his cruise on the Gulf of Mexico, and up the Mississippi.

DORCHESTER, MASS.

, August 25, 1880. CONTENTS.

PAGE

CHAPTER I. MAKING A FLORIDA PORT 13

CHAPTER II. OUR LIBERAL PASSENGERS 23

CHAPTER III. A NATIVE FLORIDIAN 33

CHAPTER IV. A TRIP UP THE SAN SEBASTIAN 43

CHAPTER V. SAVED FROM THE BURNING HOUSE 53

CHAPTER VI. MOONLIGHT AND MUSIC ON BOARD 63

CHAPTER VII. THE ENEMY IN A NEW BUSINESS 73

CHAPTER VIII. A DISAGREEABLE ROOM-MATE 83

CHAPTER IX. A BATTLE WITH THE SERPENT 93

CHAPTER X. THE FELLOW IN THE LOCK-UP 103

CHAPTER XI. THE HON.

PARDON TIFFANY'S WARNING 113

CHAPTER XII. SUGGESTIONS OF ANOTHER CONSPIRACY 123

CHAPTER XIII. MR.

COBBINGTON AND HIS PET RATTLESNAKE 133

CHAPTER XIV. THE EXCURSION TO FORT GEORGE ISLAND 143

CHAPTER XV. A WAR OF WORDS 153

CHAPTER XVI. GRIFFIN LEEDS AT A DISCOUNT 163

CHAPTER XVII. POOR GRIFF AND HIS COUNSEL 173

CHAPTER XVIII. THE EXCURSION TO MANDARIN 183

CHAPTER XIX. THE ADVENTURES OF AN INVALID 193

CHAPTER XX. DIFFICULTIES IN THE WAY OF DEPARTURE 203

CHAPTER XXI. A VISIT TO ORANGE PARK 213

CHAPTER XXII. FISHING IN DOCTOR'S LAKE 223

CHAPTER XXIII. TROLLING FOR BLACK BASS 233

CHAPTER XXIV. GREEN COVE SPRINGS AND GOVERNOR'S CREEK 243

CHAPTER XXV. ALLIGATOR-SHOOTING ON BLACK CREEK 253

CHAPTER XXVI. ON BOARD OF THE WETUMPKA 263

CHAPTER XXVII. UP THE OCKLAWAHA TO LAKE GRIFFIN 273

CHAPTER XXVIII. AN EXPEDITION TO INDIAN RIVER 283

CHAPTER XXIX. A MYSTERIOUS SHOT 293

CHAPTER XXX. SHOOTING IN THE FOREST AND BEING SHOT 303

DOWN SOUTH;

OR,

_YACHT ADVENTURES IN FLORIDA.

_ CHAPTER I. MAKING A FLORIDA PORT.

"That's it, as true as you live, Captain Alick!"

exclaimed Bob Washburn, the mate of the Sylvania, as he dropped the spy-glass from his right eye.

"Your dead-reckoning was correct every time."

"I have no doubt you are right, Washburn," I replied, referring to an open volume that lay on the shelf under the forward windows of the pilot-house.

"'A square tower, painted white, sixty-eight feet above the sea,'" I continued, reading from the _Coast Pilot_.

"But there is another tower, more than twice that height.

Ah, here is a note in pencil I made: 'The government has built a new tower, one hundred and sixty feet high.'

" "That must be St. Augustine Light: there can be no possible doubt of it.

It fits the description; and that is exactly where we ought to find it," added the mate.

The Sylvania had been on a ten weeks' cruise to Nassau, Havana, and the Bermuda Islands.

In Havana we had been startled by the report of a few cases of yellow fever, and we had hastily departed for the Bermudas, where we had cruised by sea and journeyed by land for a month.

The steam-yacht was now on her return to Florida.

The weather had been thick and rainy, and for the last two days I had failed to obtain an observation.

But we had heaved the log every two hours, though there was rarely a variation of half a knot from our regular speed.

We had made careful calculations and allowances for the current of the Gulf Stream, and the result was that we came out right when we made the Florida coast.

We had two sets of instruments on board; and Washburn and myself had each made an independent observation, when the sky was clear enough to permit us to do so, and had ciphered out the latitude and longitude.

We had also figured up the dead-reckoning separately, as much for practice as to avoid mistakes.

We had varied a little on the dead-reckoning, and it proved that I was the nearer right, as the position of St. Augustine Light proved.

The steam-yacht was under charter for a year to my cousin, Owen Garningham, a young Englishman, who was spending the winter in the South.

The after cabin was occupied by four other persons, who were his guests,--Colonel Shepard, his wife, son, and daughter.

Miss Edith, the daughter, was Owen's "bright particular star," and she was one of the most beautiful young ladies I ever saw.

I may add that she was as gentle and amiable as she was pretty.

All the Shepard family were very pleasant people, invariably kind to the ship's company; and though the Colonel was a very wealthy man, none of them ever "put on airs" in their relations with the crew.

Though I did not pride myself on the fact that some of my ship's company had "blue blood" in their veins, I certainly believed that no vessel was ever manned by a more intelligent, gentlemanly, and skilful crew.

Robert C. Washburn, the mate, was a college student, who would return to his studies at the end of the voyage.

He was one of the best fellows I had ever met, and was competent to command any vessel, on any voyage, so far at least as its navigation and management were concerned.

We were devoted friends; but he received his wages and did his duty as though he and I had had no other relations than those of captain and mate.

Moses Brickland, the chief engineer, was the son of my guardian; and though he was still in his teens, he was competent to build an engine, or to run it after it was built.

Bentley F. Bowman, the assistant engineer, was a full-grown man, and had a certificate, besides being one of the best seamen I ever sailed with.

Our steward, who was our only waiter until we sailed from Jacksonville in December, had been chief steward of a large Western steamer, and fully understood all branches of his business.

He was on the present voyage for the benefit of his health.

Buck Lingley and Hop Tossford, the deck-hands, were young Englishmen, belonging to the "first families," and were friends of my cousin Owen; but two more daring, resolute, and skilful young seamen never trod a deck.

The two firemen were young machinists I had shipped at Montreal when they were out of work.

They were brothers, and the sons of a Vermont farmer.

Washington Gopher, an excellent cook, was a gray-haired colored man, who had rendered the best of service on board.

The Sylvania had come all the way from Lake St. Clair, and it was expected that she would return there.

The steam-yacht was my property, so far as a minor could hold property.

She had been presented to me by the head of a wealthy Western family for a valuable service I had rendered.

I had cruised in the Great Lakes in her, and had had some exciting adventures on board.

I had spent my earliest days in the poor-house of a Maine town, from which a down-east skipper had taken me for the work I could do.

But I was afterwards found near Lake St. Clair by my father, after a long and diligent search.

But he had been obliged to leave me in charge of Mr. Brickland, my ever faithful friend and guardian, while he went to England to attend to some family affairs.

He left property enough to make me independent for life, but it had all been lost by a fire, and I had nothing but the Sylvania.

The steam-yacht afforded me an abundant support while she was under charter to my cousin.

Owen was the next heir to me of my father's title of baronet and his large estate.

One Pike Carrington, my father's solicitor, had persuaded my cousin to enter into some vague conspiracy to "get rid of me in some manner."

But, with the aid of Washburn, I had discovered the plot; and having the good fortune to save Owen's life in a storm, before he was fairly committed to the conspiracy, he had become my fast friend.

My cousin's mother was very rich, and it appeared that she gave him money without stint or limit.

Carrington had bought the sister yacht of the Sylvania, the Islander, which was to take part in the conspiracy against me, and in which the solicitor had followed the Sylvania to Florida.

He had employed Captain Parker Boomsby, the down-east skipper, then settled in Michigan, to command her, and to assist in carrying out his plan.

One feature of the scheme was to make me believe that my father was dead; and for months I did believe it.

Captain Boomsby claimed that I had been "bound out" to him till I was twenty-one; and he insisted upon the possession of my person and my property as much as though I had been his slave.

My father had made an arrangement with him by which he had abandoned all his interest in me, but at the reported death of my father, Carrington had induced him to assert his claim again.

Captain Boomsby had followed me to Florida in the Islander, with the solicitor as his passenger.

The former had evidently undertaken "to get rid of me;" but, instead of doing this, he had sacrificed the solicitor.

Both he and the lawyer had become hard drinkers, and in the Captain's attempt to wreck me, he had sunk the Islander and drowned his employer.

I judged that this would be the end of the conspiracy; and so it was, so far as my cousin Owen and the solicitor were concerned, but not on the part of Captain Boomsby.

I had left my "ancient enemy," as I had a right to regard Captain Boomsby, at Jacksonville when we sailed for the West Indies.

I knew that his experiment of making money in Michigan had been a failure, and that he was looking for a more hopeful field of operations in some other section of the country.

One of his men told me that he intended to run the Sylvania on the St. Johns River as a passenger boat, and that he felt sure of obtaining possession of her, because, he asserted, he was the rightful owner of her.

The paper he had signed was destroyed with the rest of my valuables.

As the steam-yacht approached the coast of Florida I did not even think of my ancient enemy.

I had left him in Jacksonville, where he was drinking all he could carry, every day.

He was terribly bitter and revengeful towards me; for though my father had paid him a considerable sum of money to appease him, rather than to satisfy any just claim he had upon me, he could never be content until he obtained all that could be had, either by fair means or by foul.

There was no more principle in him than there was in a paving-stone.

"That is St. Augustine Light," I continued.

"There can be no mistake about it, for there is not another light within thirty-five miles of it; and we could not have gone so wide of the mark as that."

"You are right, Captain Alick, as you always are," laughed the mate.

"None of that, Bob!

You know as well as the next fellow that I am not always right; I wish I were.

How was it about going into St. George?"

I

replied.

"The exception always proves the rule.

I was right by accident that time.

But you never go ahead till you are sure where you are going."

"I shall not this time," I added, turning to the _Coast Pilot_ again.

"'Vessels coming from the northward will run down till the light-house bears west by north, keeping in three fathoms of water,'" I continued, reading from the book.

We kept the Sylvania moving at about half-speed until the tower bore in the required direction; then the mate directed Buck Lingley, who was on watch forward, to heave the lead.

"Mark under water three," reported the deck-hand.

"That's all right," I added.

"Now how is the tide?"

We could cross the bar only when the water was above half-tide; and this was an important question.

We found from our nautical almanac that it would be half-tide at nine o'clock in the forenoon; and it was not yet seven in the morning by the corrected time.

We were as near the coast as I cared to go.

We could just make out the square tower of the light-house in the fog, and I was not willing to trust myself in unknown waters near the shore without a pilot.

I directed Washburn to stop the engine, and keep a sharp lookout for the drift of the steamer.

Leaving the pilot-house, I went forward, and presently discovered a pilot-boat coming out of the inlet.

One of her crew was waving a flag to the port side from her bow.

This meant that we were to bear to starboard.

I told the mate to go ahead, bearing to the northward.

In a few minutes more we had a pilot on board, whose first question was as to our draft of water.

I gave it as nine feet, though it was considerably less when we had nearly emptied our coal-bunkers.

The pilot decided that we must wait a couple of hours.

The sun rose at 6. 26 on the first day of March, which was just ten minutes earlier than at Detroit.

It soon burned off the fog inshore, so that we could see the ancient city of St. Augustine.

Our passengers, who had become so accustomed to sea-life that they did not turn out before eight in the morning, soon began to appear.

With the pilot at the wheel we went over the bar before nine, and a run of two miles more brought us to our anchorage off the sea-wall.

CHAPTER II. OUR LIBERAL PASSENGERS.

"Where are we now, Alick, my boy?"

asked my cousin Owen Garningham, as he came on deck after we had anchored off the pier.

"We are at St. Augustine, the oldest city in the United States, founded by the Spaniards in 1565----" "Cut it short, if you please, my affectionate cousin," interposed Owen, with an affected yawn.

"I haven't been to breakfast yet; and surely you don't expect me to learn history so early in the morning.

I simply asked you where we were, and you go back over three hundred years to answer the question."

"I thought you might want to know something about the place," I replied.

"Exactly so.

Where are we?"

"We are here."

Owen bit his lip, smiled, and then looked about him at the various objects in sight.

"If you will tell me exactly what you want to know, I will answer your questions; at least, I will tell you all I know," I added.

"Don't do that: it would take too long," he replied, yawning again.

"Thank you."

"I wouldn't listen to all a fool knew before breakfast; and it would take you two years to tell all you know, sweet cousin."

"Not so long as that.

We made the land about six this morning, in a fog----" "You made the land!

Well, you didn't have a very bad job of it, for it is nothing but house sand.

Of course I know we are somewhere on the coast of Florida, for when we left the Bermudas we were bound to St. Augustine.

We have got there, you say; and I thank you for telling me.

After breakfast, when I have a cigar, I will, with your leave, read the history of the place."

"You have my permission; and I will furnish the book from which you may read it."

"Thanks.

Now, could you, Alick, without straining yourself too much, tell me something about what we may see by looking about us in just this place--never mind the other parts of the State," continued Owen, looking around him.

"I will tell you all I know about it," I replied.

"I wish everybody would tell only that."

"The opening you see on the other side of the bay, and through which we came in from sea, is between Anastasia Island on the south, and the main land on the north.

The water to the north and south of us, inside the land, is Matanzas River.

The works you see to the north is Fort Marion.

The sea-wall extends from that to the point, south of us, a mile: it is built of coquina, a kind of rock quarried on Anastasia Island, formed of sand and shells----" "Spare me, cousin!"

"From the point to the south of us, you see an opening in the land: that is the mouth of the San Sebastian River.

The city of St. Augustine is built on the tongue of land between the two rivers.

The buildings near the point are the United States Barracks.

The structure extending out into the river from the sea-wall is a wharf or pier, built for the convenience of vessels landing freight or passengers."

"But what does a vessel do that has both freight and passengers?"

asked Owen, gravely.

"I dare say she has to go to Jacksonville, where they have more than one wharf."

"I stand corrected: a vessel landing passengers _and_ freight," I added.

"But I can't say, of my own knowledge, that the same vessel lands both here, for I never saw the place before in my life."

"It is well to be sure," said Owen, as the breakfast-bell rang.

Before we left Jacksonville in December, I had taken an additional person on board, who did duty in the cabin as a waiter.

Though Peeks, the steward, never complained, I saw that he had too much to do.

The distance from the cook's galley to the companion-way of the after cabin made it hard work to serve the table in the latter.

The distance to the forward cabin, where the ship's company messed, was hardly less.

I

found that the officers and crew sometimes had to wait for their meals, and that the discipline of the vessel was thus broken in upon.

The steward and the waiter had about all they could do to take care of the five passengers in the after cabin, who were very uncertain in their hours in the morning.

I had decided to have another waiter for the forward cabin, and thus allow Peeks to do the proper work of a chief steward in looking out for the whole of his department.

We had been in port so much during the winter that I found I could well afford the additional expense, for my payments had been less than the estimate.

Though we were to cruise on the St. Johns River and other streams during the month, there would be a great deal of boat-work for the deck-hands and firemen, for the latter did not complain if called to other duty than that of the fire-room, and by this time were good sailors.

I went to my breakfast, which had been waiting an hour for me on the galley, for I never left the deck till the anchor was overboard.

There was no one to bring my meal, and the mate's watch had taken theirs while I was talking to Owen.

It was half an hour before the steward or the waiter could attend to my wants; and the dignity of the commander of the Sylvania did not permit him to carry his own breakfast from the galley, while there were passengers on board.

I hoped I should be able to find another waiter at St. Augustine, though I supposed they would all be in demand at the hotels.

At last I heard the voices of the passengers on deck.

I did not ring the call-bell on the table until I was sure they had finished their morning meal, for all on board made it a point to give up everything for them.

"I haven't had my breakfast yet," I said, as Peeks came down into the cabin.

"I have been waiting here half an hour for it."

"I am very sorry, but it happens so sometimes, even when I do my best," replied Peeks, evidently much disturbed by the situation.

"It is all I can do, with the waiter, to get what the passengers want when they all come to the table at once.

We have to cook everything after they order it, or it would not be fit to eat."

"I don't blame you, and I have no fault to find," I added, soothingly.

"I shall give you another waiter as soon as one can be found."

"I think we need another.

If the meals could be served at fixed hours, we could get along very well; but the passengers take their breakfast anywhere from eight to eleven."

"I understand it perfectly; but they have a right to do just as they please, and I shall not interfere with their habits," I replied; and the steward went for my breakfast.

It was fifteen minutes before he returned, for Gopher insisted on using me as well as those that sat at the cabin-table when I was late to my meals, and cooked me a fresh dish of ham and eggs.

I was blessed with a good appetite, and still liked country fare best, though Gopher made hotel dishes, with French names, for the after cabin.

When I went on deck, I found Owen smoking his cigar in the pilot-house.

He was reading one of a pile of Florida guide-books I had procured in Jacksonville, which I had placed by the binnacle for his use.

"I have been waiting for you, Captain Alick," said he.

"And I have been waiting for my breakfast.

I shall get another waiter, so that no one will have to wait," I answered.

"Well, I was in no hurry, my dear fellow: if I had been, I should have sent for you.

This is the first day of March.

Have you the accounts?"

I had them all ready, and went to my desk in my room, just abaft the pilot-house, for them.

I gave them to him, but he hardly condescended to look at anything except the total.

Throwing away his cigar, he went into my room, where he wrote all his letters, and seated himself at his desk.

I followed him, in order to give him a receipt.

"Don't leave, Robsy," said Owen to Washburn, as the mate began to move out of the room.

Washburn resumed his toilet, for he had just donned the new uniform, with which all hands had provided themselves at St. George.

Owen handed me a draft, which I saw was for just three hundred dollars more than the amount of the bill I had rendered.

I was astonished that he should make such a mistake.

"This is not correct," I began, as soon as I had looked at the amount of the draft.

"Quite correct; but I see you have got to make a quarrel with me; and I want Robsy to stand by me in this fight," replied Owen.

"Of course I won't take three hundred dollars more than is my due," I protested.

"Cut it short!"

exclaimed my cousin.

"I told Colonel Shepard I never could get out of it in the world, and he was putting a load on me I could never carry.

Where is that bloody contract?

Will you do me the favor to burn it?"

"Certainly not," I replied.

"I intend to keep my copy, and to abide by its provisions."

"Provisions means grub, don't it?"

"Sometimes it does; but it don't now," I replied, tossing the draft on the desk, at which he was still seated.

"I will take only what is due me."

"But I have had a row with Colonel Shepard," protested Owen.

"He said he should insist on paying his share of the expenses of this cruise before we left Jacksonville; but I kept him quiet till yesterday.

In the first place, as we have put you to extra expense, Alick, we insisted on adding one hundred dollars a month to the amount I was to pay."

I objected, and explained that I had been obliged to pay only the expense of a waiter, as he paid all the coal and provision bills, but he persisted, and finally appealed to Washburn, who decided in his favor.

As I agreed to the decision of the umpire beforehand, I had to submit.

"I made it up with the Colonel by letting him pay half of the bills, though he would pay four-fifths of them at first," chuckled Owen, as though he had won a victory over his fellow-passenger.

I had paid every one of the ship's company his wages when they were due; I had painted the steamer at St. George, while the passengers were travelling on shore; I had taken in a large supply of engine stores;

and still had about eleven hundred dollars on hand.

I felt that I was getting rich very fast, though a season of idleness might scatter all my wealth.

By this time our passengers had seen all there was to be seen from the hurricane-deck of the steamer.

Though the sun had come out, it was rather a cool day to our party, who had spent a portion of the winter in the tropics.

Owen informed me that his friends desired to go on shore.

I had hardly sent them off in both boats, before a well-dressed gentleman came on deck, and desired to see the captain.

CHAPTER III. A NATIVE FLORIDIAN.

The gentleman who wished to see the captain came off in a small boat, pulled by a man who might have been a mulatto, a Cuban, or a Spaniard.

I noticed that he was a fine-looking fellow, lightly but handsomely built.

If he had been brown, instead of slightly yellow, I should have taken him for a white man.

He had a fine eye, and both his form and his face attracted my attention.

I invited the gentleman in the stern sheets, who wished to see me, to come on board, and then conducted him to my state-room.

He was not more than thirty-five, and was dressed rather jauntily in a suit of light-colored clothes.

He looked and acted like a gentleman, and his speech indicated that he was a person of refinement.

I gave him a chair, and took one myself.

Washburn had gone ashore in one of the boats, and I had the room to myself.

Before he seated himself he handed me a card, on which was engraved "Kirby Cornwood."

There was nothing more to indicate his business.

"Take a seat, Mr. Cornwood," I said, when I had read his name.

"Thank you, Captain Garningham," he replied: and I wondered where he had learned my name, for I had not yet been ashore to report at the custom-house.

"You will excuse me for calling upon you so soon after your arrival;

but business is business, and sometimes if it is not attended to in season, it can't be done at all."

"Quite true, sir; and I was going ashore as soon as the boats returned to report at the custom-house," I replied, for the want of something sensible to say.

"I do not remember to have met you before, Mr. Cornwood."

"I dare say you do not remember it; but I have met you none the less."

"Indeed!

Where was that?"

I asked, looking the stranger over again, though I could not recall his form or features.

"In Jacksonville, last December.

I was at the funeral of Mr. Carrington, and I saw you several times.

I was on the point of offering my services to you then, as I shall now, when I learned that you were soon to sail for the West Indies," answered Mr. Cornwood, with a very pleasant smile, which might have captured any young man of less experience in the ways of the world than myself.

In spite of his explanation I did not remember him.

I had met a great many people at the time of the exciting events attending the arrival of the Sylvania at Jacksonville.

I concluded that he was some dealer in provisions, ice, or coal, who wished to furnish the steamer with his wares; and I began to lose all interest in the interview.

I had a great many people call upon me who wished to sell something, and I was used to such calls.

"I am willing to admit that it is my fault, but I do not remember you, Mr. Cornwood," I replied, rather coldly, for the chief engineer bought the coal, and the steward the provisions and ice.

"I can well understand why you should not remember me, Captain Garningham, for you met a great many people about the time I saw you, and your mind was occupied with some peculiar matters, such as the sinking of the other steamer."

"Exactly so," I answered, looking out the window, as though I was ready to terminate the interview.

"As I said, I was about to offer my services to you then; and I shall take the liberty to do so now," he continued, not at all disturbed by anything I said or did.

"I don't think we need the services of any gentleman like yourself."

To my astonishment, he broke into a laugh; and it was some time before he could proceed with his business.

I was not aware that I had said anything that was funny: if I had, I should have been highly complimented by the manner in which my joke was received.

"This is not the first time I have been taken for a gentleman," said he, as soon as he was in condition to speak.

"Then you think I made a mistake, do you?"