Down South; or, Yacht Adventure in Florida
by Oliver Optic · English · Gutenberg #24554 · 358,857 chars · public domain (US)
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Title: Down South; or, Yacht Adventure in Florida
Author: Oliver Optic
Release date: February 8, 2008 [eBook #24554]
Language: English
Other information and formats: www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/24554
Credits: Produced by David Edwards and the Online Distributed
Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was
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*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK DOWN SOUTH; OR, YACHT ADVENTURE IN FLORIDA ***
Produced by David Edwards and the Online Distributed
Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was
produced from images generously made available by The
Internet Archive)
THE GREAT WESTERN SERIES.
I.
GOING WEST; or, The Perils of a Poor Boy.
II.
OUT WEST; or, Roughing it on the Great Lakes.
III.
LAKE BREEZES; or, The Cruise of the Sylvania.
IV.
GOING SOUTH; or, Yachting on the Atlantic Coast.
V.
DOWN SOUTH; or, Yacht Adventures in Florida.
VI.
UP THE RIVER; or, Yachting on the Mississippi.
(_In Press._)
_THE GREAT WESTERN SERIES_
DOWN SOUTH
OR
YACHT ADVENTURES IN FLORIDA
By
OLIVER OPTIC
AUTHOR OF YOUNG AMERICA ABROAD, THE ARMY AND NAVY SERIES,
THE WOODVILLE SERIES, THE STARRY FLAG SERIES, THE BOAT
CLUB STORIES, THE LAKE SHORE SERIES, THE UPWARD
AND ONWARD SERIES, THE YACHT CLUB SERIES,
THE RIVERDALE STORIES, ETC.
_WITH EIGHT ILLUSTRATIONS_
BOSTON
LEE AND SHEPARD PUBLISHERS
NEW YORK CHARLES T. DILLINGHAM
1881
COPYRIGHT,
1880,
By WILLIAM T. ADAMS.
Electrotyped at the Boston Stereotype Foundry
No. 4 Pearl Street.
TO MY YOUNG FRIEND,
WILFORD L. WRIGHT,
_OF CAIRO, ILL._,
EX-PRESIDENT OF THE NATIONAL AMATEUR PRESS ASSOCIATION,
WHO HAD THE COURAGE AND THE SELF-DENIAL TO
RESIGN HIS OFFICE IN ORDER TO PROMOTE
HIS OWN AND OTHERS' WELFARE,
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?" I asked.
"By no means: I have not sunk so low as that yet; and I still believe I
am a gentleman, whatever anybody else may think."
He paused, and I waited for him to proceed with his business, instead
of asking him what he meant, as he evidently expected me to do.
"Yes, captain: I claim to be a gentleman," he continued, when I showed
no inclination to ask any questions. "I belong to the legal profession,
though I don't work at it now."
"I am sure we don't need any law on board of this vessel at the present
time," I added.
"I do not offer my services in that capacity. I am a native Floridian,
a regular corn-cracker," he continued, laughing. "I was born and raised
here in St. Augustine. There is not a river, lake, harbor or inlet in
all Florida, and hardly a square mile of territory, that I have not
explored."
"As a lawyer?" I asked; and his plump statement rather attracted my
attention.
"Certainly not. When I was seventeen I began to study for the bar; but
my health broke down, and for the next ten years I roamed over the
state, now at my own expense, and then as a member of the state
surveying party, or the government coast-survey. I am a pilot for any
waters in Florida."
"Have you a branch or a warrant?"
"Nothing of the sort: I am only an amateur pilot. I am a hunter and a
fisherman, and I know the flora and the fauna of the State. Seven years
ago I resumed my studies, and have been admitted to the bar. But my
health would not allow me to spend my days in an office or a
court-room. Captain Garningham, I offer my services to you as a guide
for Florida."
Mr. Kirby Cornwood folded his arms in his chair, and looked as
complacent as though he had just informed me that he was the governor
of the State. He evidently believed it was no use to say anything more,
and he was silent.
"I am exceedingly obliged to you, Mr. Cornwood, for your offer of
service," I replied. "As you are a guide for Florida, could you inform
me where the custom-house is?"
"Can I inform you where the custom-house is!" exclaimed the guide for
Florida. "How could I have been born and raised in St. Augustine
without knowing where the custom-house is?"
"I don't know."
He looked at me as though he thought I was a young man to be pitied.
Was there anything relating to Florida that he did not know, was the
expression on his face. He could take me to any custom-house in the
State by land or water. He could tell me the depth of any lake, stream,
or puddle from the Atlantic to the Gulf.
"Having accomplished all that I came on board for, permit me to take my
leave, with the hope that you will consider my offer," said Mr.
Cornwood, rising from his chair. "I shall be happy to conduct you to
the custom-house when you go on shore, or to take your party to all the
points of interest in the city."
"Thank you, Mr. Cornwood," I replied.
I had no idea that he intended to leave me, for one does not get rid of
such applicants so easily. He bowed gracefully, and much to my
astonishment, left my room, walked to the gangway, and went down into
his boat. A moment later, I saw the boatman pulling him towards the
landing-place. I could not help thinking of his offer after he had
gone. It would be exceedingly convenient to have a man on board all the
time who could guide us to any object of interest. He was a pilot for
any waters of the State.
But I felt that I could not believe more than one-tenth of what he had
said. I sat down, and thought over the matter. An extra hundred had
just been added to my monthly stipend. I had not thought of having such
a person on board before he suggested the idea. I had expected to
depend on local guides for information and direction.
If only one-half of Mr. Kirby Cornwood's story was true, and he could
perform only one-half of what he promised, he would be a valuable
person to our party. He was airy in his manner; but I could not say
that this was not the worst part of him. If he had spent ten years of
his life with state and national surveys and exploring parties, he
ought to be very familiar with the travelled localities of Florida. I
was rather sorry I had not detained him a little longer, and learned
something more of his ability to do what he said he could do. But I
could find him again; or I had no doubt he would soon find me. If he
had not left me with so much dignity, and without pressing his offer of
service, I should not probably have given a second thought to him.
Washburn's boat was the first to return, and I went on shore in it. I
wanted the mate to see Mr. Cornwood; but I did not mention him, for I
wanted my friend to make up his mind in regard to the Floridian without
any suggestion from me, and without his knowing that he was doing duty
as a judge. I asked Washburn to take a stroll with me. He told his crew
he should not want them for a couple of hours, and we walked up the
pier.
When we reached the head of it, I saw Mr. Cornwood rushing across the
intersecting street as if he meant business, though he was not headed
towards me. He did not even seem to see me at first; but as he was
about to cross my path, he could not well help doing so. He raised his
Panama hat, and bowed politely to me. He evidently did not mean to stop
to speak to me; but I hailed him, and asked where the custom-house was.
He described the building, and indicated in what direction I was to go.
"If you will excuse me for a few moments, Captain Garningham, I will
join you," said he, hurrying along towards the St. Augustine Hotel,
which faces the harbor.
The Floridian certainly did not seem to be very anxious to make an
engagement with me; and this fact improved his chances with me. I went
to the custom-house, and transacted my business there. As I came out
with the mate, I met Mr. Cornwood at the door. I introduced Washburn to
him; and the Floridian was as polite to him as to me.
"I am at your service, gentlemen; and, pardon me, captain, without
regard to any future engagement," said Mr. Cornwood, with an extra
flourish, as he turned to me.
"Thanks. I think you said you were born in Florida," I added.
"Not only in Florida, but here in St. Augustine. If you doubt my
statement, I will show you the house in which I first drew the breath
of life," he replied, with a deprecatory smile.
Showing the house would prove it; but I thought more of the fact that
he seemed to have an inkling of my trouble in regard to his statements.
I told him I was willing to accept his statement without seeing the
house.
"My father and mother both died of consumption," he continued. "They
came down here from Virginia, and lived twenty years longer than they
would in the Old Dominion. My father left me twelve thousand dollars,
every cent of which I spent in travelling in this state. But here is
your party, captain."
Our passengers were strolling along St. George Street when we met them.
CHAPTER IV.
A TRIP UP THE SAN SEBASTIAN.
Strange as it may seem, the Shepards, though they had resided two
winters in Jacksonville, had never been to St. Augustine, or even up
the St. Johns River. The state of Mrs. Shepard's health had not
permitted her to travel for several years, until the preceding summer.
They had simply left the ancient city and the up-river glories of "The
Land of Flowers" to a more propitious season in the future.
"How do you like the looks of St. Augustine, Miss Edith?" I asked,
after we had passed the civilities of the moment, though I did not
venture to present Mr. Kirby Cornwood to the party.
"I like it well enough," replied the pretty young lady, with something
like a yawn. "But I am getting tired of it so soon; for we have seen so
many old Spanish cities in Spain and in the West Indies, that St.
Augustine reads like an old story."
The face of the native Floridian wore an expression of horror as he
listened to the remark of Miss Edith. Possibly he might have abated his
astonishment at this partially unfavorable opinion of his native city
if he had known that she and Owen spent most of their time in thinking
of other matters than an old city.
"I am delighted with the place," added Mrs. Shepard. "But we pass
various objects of interest without knowing what they are. We have not
even a guide-book to help us out."
Mr. Cornwood smiled, but he said nothing. I wondered that he did not
offer his services to the lady; but he manifested what seemed to be a
very strange modesty for him, standing a little apart from the rest of
us, and not even looking at the pretty face of Miss Edith. I took the
liberty to introduce the Floridian. He removed his Panama, and bowed
low when I mentioned his name; but he did not even speak, much less
indulge in any of his pretentious speeches. The walk was resumed, and
in the course of the forenoon we had explored the city, from Fort San
Marco, on the north, to the point at the south of the city.
Mr. Cornwood proved that he knew all about St. Augustine. I had studied
the history of the place and the state very carefully during the
leisure hours of the voyage from the Bermudas, and I was able to
confirm the truth of all he said, so far as my knowledge extended,
though he went far beyond me. In a little while he was the very centre
of the party. It is true that Owen several times requested him to "cut
it short," at which the Floridian did not seem to be at all offended;
but he soon found that the rest of the company did not wish to have
even the historical portions of the guide's discourse abbreviated.
I do not intend to give the history or describe the objects of interest
we saw in Florida, except incidentally, for it would take all my space
to do these, and I do not pretend to do much more than tell my story. I
must say that I was very much interested in the history and
descriptions of Mr. Cornwood; and I have no doubt my readers would be
equally interested, if I had pages enough at my disposal to include
them.
The Floridian did his duty modestly, though he had become the most
important person of the party for the time being. There was not a
particle of the "brag" and pretension which had caused me to distrust
everything he said. As we walked from place to place he kept at a
respectful distance from the passengers, and never intruded himself
upon them, though he was always ready to answer any questions. After a
three-hours' run we returned to the pier.
I had expected that the party would prefer to go on shore, after their
sea-voyage, and take up their residence for our stay at the principal
hotel; but they manifested no such intention. As they had taken nothing
on shore with them, I had told the steward to have dinner ready for
them at the usual hour. The port quarter-boat, which was mine, had come
to the landing-place, and the party embarked. I invited Mr. Cornwood to
go on board with me, and he accepted the invitation. He took his place
in the fore-sheets of the boat, apparently for the purpose of
maintaining his respectful distance from the passengers.
In a few minutes we were on the deck of the Sylvania. The passengers
retired to the cabin, and Cornwood followed me to my state-room. As
soon as we entered the apartment his manner underwent a sudden change.
He was as free and familiar as he had been at our interview on board in
the morning. As I interpreted his conduct, he considered himself on an
entire equality with me, while he intended to treat my passengers with
the utmost deference and respect. I did not object to his view of the
relations to be maintained to my passengers and myself; on the
contrary, his view was precisely my own.
"What is your price for the service you propose to render, Mr.
Cornwood?" I asked, when we were seated.
"Five dollars a day, including Sundays," he replied, without any
hesitation. "Of course this salary is besides my board and all
expenses."
"That is only three times my own wages," I added with a smile.
"If you will engage me for a year, I will call it fifty dollars a
month, and be glad to make this slight reduction of two-thirds," he
answered promptly, and with the most easy assurance. "I can make hay
only when the sun shines, captain; and I could make more at your wages
twice over than I can at my own. The year is not often more than four
months long for my business. I attend upon first-class parties only,
and I charge eight dollars a day when I am engaged for only a single
week. Your party want to go up the St. Johns for at least a month.
However, if you object to the price, there is a party at the St.
Augustine Hotel who want me for a week to go to Indian River with them.
They are willing to give me ten dollars a day; but I prefer to go with
your party at the price I named."
"I am very much obliged to you for this mark of consideration on your
part," I replied. "Though you are a perfect stranger to me, I suppose
it would not be regarded as an insult for me to ask for any
testimonials."
"Not at all. Though I could procure a bushel or two of them, I do not
happen to have any with me; but I will refer you to the landlords, and
to any resident of St. Augustine."
He seemed to be ready to answer anything I could ask him, and he named
a dozen persons of whom I might inquire in regard to him. While the
passengers were on shore in the forenoon, I had directed the hands to
spread the awnings on the quarter-deck and forecastle. When dinner was
over the party seemed to be very well satisfied to remain on board
after their walk, for after the sea-voyage the exertion tired them.
Owen told me they should not go on shore again, and I decided to
inquire into the character and antecedents of Mr. Cornwood.
When we came up from dinner I found Owen smoking his cigar on the
forecastle. My passenger asked Cornwood a question, and they were soon
engaged in conversation in regard to Florida. Taking the port boat,
with Ben Bowman and Hop Tossford, I left the steamer. I did not even
take the trouble to tell the Floridian where I was going. If my
inquiries were satisfactorily answered, I intended to engage him for
the time we remained in Florida. He had mentioned the name of a family
that boarded on the west side of the city, near the San Sebastian
River, and I decided to make the first inquiries there.
I steered the boat around the point into the river, and soon passed the
more thickly settled portion of the town. Orange groves lined the
shore, and the fragrant jasmine scented the air. If I had not been all
winter in the tropics, I should have gone into ecstasies over the scene
that was spread out before me. But orange groves were nothing new to me
now, and I was familiar with banana and palm trees.
I could not be insensible to the beauties of the region, and in that
mild atmosphere I could not help enjoying it. On the shore were the
dwellings of wealthy men who spent their winters in this delightful
locality. Soon we came to a house, on the very bank of the river, with
a kind of pier built out into the river, at which several sail and row
boats were moored. This was the large boarding-house to which I had
been directed by the Floridian.
I identified it from his description some time before we reached it. As
the boat approached the house, and I ran in towards the pier, I noticed
there was a great commotion in the vicinity. The inmates were rushing
out of the house, negroes were running here and there, apparently
without any settled purpose, and not a few women were screaming.
"I wonder what the matter is at that house," I said to the oarsmen, who
were back to the scene, and could see nothing of it.
"Matter enough, I should say," replied Ben Bowman, who pulled the
bow-oar, as he looked behind him. "The house is on fire!"
The immense live-oaks that half concealed the house from my view had
prevented me from seeing the volume of smoke and flame that was rising
from one corner of the mansion. The fire had already made considerable
progress.
"Give way, lively, my men!" I called to the rowers. "We shall be needed
there."
Ben and Hop pulled a strong stroke, and they exerted themselves until
the oars bent before their vigorous muscles. I headed the boat for some
steps I saw on the pier, and in a few moments more we were within
hailing distance of the wharf.
"Way enough!" I called to the oarsmen. They ceased rowing, and brought
their oars to a perpendicular, man-of-war fashion, as required by our
boat-drill.
Ben Bowman went to the bow, fended off, and then jumped ashore with the
painter in his hand. Hop Tossford and I followed him in good order, as
all were instructed to move when in the boats; and in a moment we were
on the pier. My men broke into a run for the scene of the fire; but I
moved more slowly, and studied the situation as I walked up the wharf.
The inmates of the house and the neighbors who had gathered appeared to
be in utter confusion, and incapable of doing anything, if there was
anything that could be done. It seemed to me that the fire had
progressed too far to be checked, and that the entire destruction of
the house was inevitable. But certainly some portion of the property in
the building could be saved, and the people seemed to have no power
even to attend to this duty. Our boat's crew could set a good example
in this way, if in no other; and I hurried my steps as soon as I could
decide what to do.
As soon as I reached the garden in the rear of the house, I found there
was something more important to be done than saving furniture. A
gentleman whom I judged to be about forty years of age was on the point
of rushing into the burning house when he was held back by others. They
said the stairs were already in flames, and the second story could be
reached only from the outside.
"My daughter is asleep in the corner-room!" gasped the gentleman,
pointing to the window of the chamber.
The next instant Hop Tossford was running up the posts of the veranda.
CHAPTER V.
SAVED FROM THE BURNING HOUSE.
By this time the flames, which had been confined to half a dozen
windows, were breaking out through the roof of the house. Ben Bowman
and I followed Hop Tossford to the roof of the veranda, which
surrounded the building, though, as we had waited to hear more of the
situation, we were considerably behind him. We all attempted the ascent
by different posts. That which Ben took slipped out, and tumbled over;
and the fire was so hot where I was that I had some difficulty in
getting a foothold on the roof.
[Illustration: SAVED FROM THE BURNING HOUSE. Page 53.]
I had hardly accomplished my purpose when I heard a scream. The next
instant I saw Hop leap from the window near the corner with a lady in
his arms. She was still screaming; but it appeared that she had been
alarmed only at finding herself in the arms of a stranger. She had not
been aroused from her sleep till Hop lifted her from the bed.
The deck-hand set her on her feet as soon as he reached the roof of the
veranda. She looked about her, and she could not help seeing and
hearing the devouring flames. She comprehended the situation, and
ceased to scream. By this time a ladder was raised to the roof of the
veranda, and as soon as Hop saw the top of it, he assisted the lady to
descend, which she accomplished in safety. I saw her in the arms of her
father, and both of them were weeping.
As soon as I saw that the young lady was safe, I led the way into the
rooms on the side of the house which was not yet on fire, though the
flames were now breaking into them, and proceeded to throw out the
baggage and other articles we found. Hop took the chamber from which he
had just saved the occupant, and removed a trunk and all the drawers of
a bureau. These articles were carried down the ladder by the guests and
others. We worked until we were driven from the veranda by the flames.
When I reached the ground, I found the lady who had been saved out on
the pier with her father, with their trunks which had been removed
there by the latter. She had transferred from the drawers of the bureau
brought out by Hop, all her clothing. She had quite recovered from her
fright. She was not more than sixteen, and with the exception of Edith
Shepard, I never saw a prettier girl.
"We are under very great obligations to you, gentlemen," said the
father of the fair young lady. "I am sure my daughter would have
perished without the assistance of one of your number."
"This is the young man that brought your daughter out of the house," I
replied, pointing to Hop.
"I thank you with all my heart and soul for what you have done," said
the stranger, taking Hop's hand. "It seems that my daughter was asleep
when you entered her chamber, and she would surely have been burned to
death without your bold effort."
"And I thank you with all my heart and soul!" exclaimed the young lady,
blushing as she took the hand of her gallant deliverer. "I was fast
asleep when you lifted me from the bed, and I only screamed because I
thought some man was carrying me off. At first, I thought it was a
dream."
"I was very clumsy about it; and I beg your pardon for frightening you
so. I might have spoken before I took you from the bed. But I have had
no experience in such business," pleaded Hop. "I shall know better how
to do it next time."
"You did it exceedingly well," said the lady, with emphasis.
"It matters little how it was done, so it was done," said the father.
"That is just what I think, papa. I can't express anything at all that
I feel towards this gentleman for the great service he has done me. I
wish I could say just what is in my heart!" exclaimed the fair young
lady.
"I am very glad you can not," added Hop, who seemed to be embarrassed
by the gratitude of the young lady and her father.
"We shall never forget the service of this young gentleman. Everybody
else was paralyzed, and unable to do anything," continued the stranger.
"I had been to walk; and on my return I saw the smoke long before I
reached the house. I did not think of my daughter being in her room at
first, but it occurred to me that she has been in the habit of taking a
nap after dinner lately. As I did not see her among the other people of
the house, I was paralyzed by the thought that she might be asleep."
"I owe my life to your coming; and I never shall forget this service,
any more than my father," added the young lady, as she bestowed a
grateful look upon Hop.
"We shall see more of you, gentlemen; and I hope I shall be able to
prove to you that I properly value the service you have rendered. But,
Margie, we are turned out of house and home by the fire."
"But we have saved all our luggage, thanks to these gentlemen! We are
not so badly off as some of the people in the house, who must have lost
everything."
"There are some others here who will have occasion to be thankful for
your arrival; for I don't think anything would have been saved if you
had not taken the lead. But, Margie, we haven't even a carriage to
convey us to a hotel."
"I think I can manage that for you, sir," I interposed. "We can take
you and your trunks into our boat, and convey you to the other side of
the town."
"Thanks; you are very kind. But we are not willing to take up any more
of your time," protested the stranger. "Besides, I don't know where to
go, unless we take the next train for Jacksonville; for yesterday, and
when we arrived a week ago, the hotels and boarding-houses were all
full to overflowing. I only got in where I was by the landlord and his
daughter giving us their rooms, while they went to a cottage of a
friend. Perhaps we had better leave the place at once, for I am sure we
can't find lodgings. I looked the place all over for accommodations."
"But we are too late to leave the place to-night, papa," replied Miss
Margie, and both she and her father seemed to be very anxious about the
situation.
"We shall find some kind of accommodations at the hotels, though it be
nothing better than the servants' rooms. They won't let us sleep in the
streets," added the father, more cheerfully.
"I think I can take care of you for a few days," I interposed; "at any
rate, until you find better quarters."
"Pardon me, sir; but you look like sailors; and you all went up the
posts under the veranda as though you were sailors," added the
gentleman.
"We are sailors, and we belong to a steam-yacht lying at anchor on the
other side of the city," I replied. "We will take you and your daughter
around to her, with your baggage; and then you can make such
arrangements for the future as you desire."
"We thank you; you are very kind, and we accept your offer," said the
gentleman. "The place is so crowded with visitors that it is very
difficult to get anything done for you; and we might have to stay here
a long time before we could get a carriage to convey us and our luggage
to another place. Besides, this fire will turn forty or fifty people
out of their house, and there will be an increased demand for rooms."
"I can take care of you for a few days, at any rate," I replied. "Put
those trunks into the fore sheets of the boat, Ben."
The trunks and the other baggage were stowed in the forward part of the
boat, and I assisted the fair stranger and her father to the cushioned
seats in the stern sheets. When we were all in, the boat was pretty
well loaded down. Ben shoved her well off into the stream, and I took
the tiller-lines, seated between my two passengers.
"Up oars! Let fall! Give way!" I continued, giving the usual orders.
Ben and Hop bent to their oars, while all of us took a parting view of
the scene of the fire. The house was burned to the ground; and it
seemed to me that nearly the whole population of the city was gathered
in the vicinity. A fire was not a common thing, and people went to see
it as a curiosity.
The month of March is one of the most trying in the whole year in the
North, and vast numbers of people had come down to Florida to escape
its rigors. All the watering-places in the State were crowded with
visitors, and in St. Augustine, the most popular resort, there was not
a vacant room to be had. While my new passengers were gazing at the
remains of the fire and the crowd that surrounded them, I began to
think how I should dispose of my guests on board of the Sylvania. I was
not quite willing to intrude upon Owen's party by putting them in the
after cabin; but I could easily make two rooms of the captain's large
apartment, while Washburn and I found quarters in the forward cabin.
The vigorous strokes of Ben and Hop soon brought us to the steamer. The
passengers were still seated under the awning of the quarter-deck; and
Owen had finished his cigar and joined Miss Edith, whose shadow he was
when his cigar did not need attention. They all rose from their seats
when they saw that I had company, for of course their curiosity was
excited. We pulled around the stern, and came up to the port gangway,
where the steps were rigged out.
Hop Tossford handed Miss Margie up the steps to the deck, while I
assisted the gentleman, whose name I did not yet know, though I had
read "P. T." on the ends of the trunks. I conducted the new passengers
to the captain's room. I wanted Washburn, in order to have him remove
his clothes and other articles into the forward cabin. When I looked
for him, he was with the party on the quarter-deck. I went to him. In a
few words I explained the situation to him. He was very willing to
change his quarters, and declared that he would sleep on the fore-yard,
if necessary.
"I beg your pardon, Captain Alick, but what had you in the boat?" asked
Owen, as Washburn went forward.
"I had a gentleman and his daughter, with their luggage, as we say in
England," I replied.
"I beg your pardon again; but who are the gentleman and his daughter?"
"I haven't the least idea. They were in a house over the other side of
the city, and some way up, which has just been burned to the ground.
Very likely that young lady would have been burned to death if Hop had
not brought her out of her room, where she was asleep. Every hotel and
boarding-house in the place is full, and they had no place to go: so I
brought them on board till they can find a hotel."
"Very good of you; but what were you just saying to Robsy?" demanded
Owen.
"I told him to move his traps out of our room; and I shall do the same
with mine," I replied.
"You will do nothing of the sort," protested my cousin.
"What's the reason I won't?"
"Because the lady shall have my state room; and her father and I will
just take berths in the cabin."
Before I could say anything more, Owen rushed down into the cabin, and
I followed him.
CHAPTER VI.
MOONLIGHT AND MUSIC ON BOARD.
Owen called the steward and the waiter, and directed them to move all
his luggage from the state-room. He assisted himself in the work, and
seemed to be very much in earnest.
"I don't ask you to do this, Owen; and I didn't expect you to do it," I
protested.
"Did you expect me to be a swine?" demanded he indignantly.
"No, certainly not; but I have no right to do anything to deprive you
of the comfort you pay for," I replied.
"But who are these people, Alick?"
"They haven't even given me their names; I know nothing whatever in
regard to them. Rather than have them stay out in the street, I was
ready to give up my room."
"It's all right, Alick. Give the lady my state-room, and I will take a
berth. The curtains draw out in such a way as to make a little room in
front of each bunk, and I shall be just as well off as in my room."
"I don't like to have you do this. Won't you take my room? I will have
it fitted up for you in as good style as this cabin; and it is twice as
large as this room."
"No, I thank you, Alick. I shall be very comfortable in one of these
berths. Let me hear no more objections. Now bring the gentleman and his
daughter down into the cabin, and assure them they are as welcome as
they would be in their own house."
It was useless to say anything more to Owen; for when he insisted on
having his own way, he had it. I went forward and invited the strangers
below. Ben brought their trunks and other baggage after them, and they
were soon installed in their new quarters.
"What a lovely little room!" exclaimed Miss Margie, as I showed the
state-room. "It is ever so much nicer than the one I had in the steamer
I came across the ocean in!"
"I am sorry I have not another state-room for you, sir," I said to her
father, as I came out of the daughter's room. "But we will do the best
we can for you."
I pulled out the slide to which the curtains were attached, in front of
one of the berths.
"Nothing could be better than that," replied the gentleman, with
enthusiasm. "We are better lodged than we were in that boarding-house.
The only fear is that we are intruding."
"Not at all, sir. The gentleman that charters the yacht wished me to
say to you that you are as welcome as you could be in your own house."
"I will soon pay my respects to him. I dare say he is the owner of this
delightful little craft."
"No, sir; he only charters her."
"And who is the owner of her?"
"I am the owner, sir."
"Bless me! You are quite a young man to be the owner of such a fine
little vessel," said the new passenger. "Will you favor me with your
name?"
"Alexander Garningham," I replied, not supposing my name could be of
any particular consequence to him.
"Garningham! I half suspected it!" ejaculated the gentleman. "I have a
letter for you."
"A letter for me, sir!" I exclaimed, wondering who could have given him
such a missive.
"It is very strange that I should stumble on you in this manner, when I
have been looking for you all over the country," continued the
gentleman, fumbling his pockets for the letter.
I almost came to the conclusion that he was a "fraud," trying to play
some trick upon me, in the interest of Captain Boomsby, or some other
designing person, when he produced the letter. He handed it to me. I
instantly recognized the peculiar handwriting of my father. It thrilled
me to my very soul. I glanced at the superscription. It was my name in
the familiar writing. Under it was, "By the hand of the Hon. Pardon
Tiffany."
"Mr. Tiffany, I am very happy to meet you," I said, when I had read
what was on the outside of the letter.
"Captain Alick Garningham, I am more than happy to see you," he
replied, grasping my hand. "I know all about you from your father."
I excused myself, and opened the letter; but it was only an
introduction, written just before my father started for India. He spoke
of Mr. Tiffany as his best and truest friend in England, who was to
travel a year or more in America.
"How long have you been in this country, Mr. Tiffany?" I asked,
thinking it very strange, from the date of the letter, that I had not
seen him before.
"Less than four months. I was ill after your father started for India,
and was unable to leave home till six months later than I had
intended," he replied. "I suppose you hear from your father
occasionally?"
"I have not heard from him since he left for India," I replied.
I saw that he knew nothing of the events which had occurred since I
left Lake St. Clair. It took me an hour to tell the story in full. He
seemed to be greatly astonished when I told him that the person who
chartered the steam-yacht was my cousin, Owen Garningham. He knew most
of the family, though he had never met Owen, who had been away at
school, or on his travels on the Continent, when he visited my father.
Miss Margie had come out of her state-room some time before I finished
my story; but she busied herself with a book till we had concluded our
conference. I asked them both to go on deck with me, and I introduced
them to my passengers. Owen did not appear to know Mr. Tiffany, or to
know of him when his name was mentioned. I thought it was best not to
say anything at present. Both of the guests were treated with the
utmost consideration and kindness by Owen and the Shepards. The story
of the fire was rehearsed, and Miss Margie was the heroine of the hour.
The afternoon was wearing away, and I had yet made no inquiries in
regard to Cornwood. I knew not where to find the person to whom he had
referred me at the house which had been burned. I ordered the boat
again, and went on shore. I found a party at one of the hotels who had
employed the Floridian, and they spoke in the highest terms of him. The
natives of St. Augustine usually smiled when I asked about Cornwood;
but no one said anything against him that I did not know--that he was
"airy" and given to "brag." It was about dark when I returned, but the
Floridian was still on board.
"I am sorry to hear that Colonel Estwell's house has been burned," said
Cornwood, as I came on deck. "It was doing a good business, and the
fire will be a heavy blow to the Colonel. I suppose you heard nothing
bad about me."
"Nothing very bad. I engage you at the terms you named for the time the
steam-yacht remains in Florida," I added. "You will have a berth in the
forward cabin, and mess with the officers."
"You will have no occasion to regret what you have done," said the
Floridian, confidently.
"I hope not. Now, can you find a waiter for me?" I continued,
explaining the need of additional help in the steward's department.
"A waiter! Fifty more than there are in the city could find places in
one hour," said he, laughing at the apparent absurdity of the question.
"However, as you have applied to me, I have no doubt I can find one for
you."
"Do you think you can?" I asked, rather anxiously. "I have added two
more persons to the company to be cared for at the cabin-table, and we
shall get nothing to eat in the forward cabin if we don't have more
help."
"You shall have a waiter if I have to take him out of the dining-room
of the St. Augustine Hotel," replied Mr. Cornwood, with as much
assurance as though all the waiters in the city were under his charge.
I sent him ashore in the starboard boat; and Buck and Landy, the crew,
were glad to spend an hour in the city. In less than that time the
Floridian returned, and with him was the waiter. When the new man came
into my room to see me, I was not a little surprised to find he was the
same "yellow man" I had seen in the boat that brought off the guide the
first time he boarded the Sylvania.
He was a remarkably good-looking fellow, and I soon ascertained that he
was as intelligent as he was handsome. His name was Griffin Leeds. He
was neither a Spaniard nor an Italian, but an octoroon.
Both the guide and the waiter brought off their baggage in the boat.
Among the effects of Griffin Leeds I noticed a violin-case. Tom Sands,
the cabin-waiter, whom I had obtained at Jacksonville, played the banjo
in the most artistic manner. Neither of the waiters were any common
sort of colored men; and I soon found that race distinctions were
vastly more insisted on by these men than by any white man on board,
unless it was the Floridian.
We had a full table in the forward cabin at supper that night, and
Griffin Leeds showed that he thoroughly understood his business, and
that he was active and zealous besides. I was very well pleased with
him, and so were all the other officers of the steamer.
It was a bright moonlight evening, and the air was soft and balmy. I
sat with the passengers under the awning on the quarter-deck. By this
time Edith and Margie had got along far enough to sit with their arms
around each other's waists. One would think they had known each other
for years, they were so affectionate. We were talking about the voyage
down from the Great Lakes, when the attention of the whole party was
attracted by the music of a violin on the hurricane-deck. The
instrument was well played. Presently the volume of the music was
increased by the addition of a banjo.
"That's good," said Owen. "I think music, even if it isn't first-class,
is delightful on the water."
"It is perfectly charming!" exclaimed Edith.
"It seems almost like fairy-land!" added Margie.
I saw that all hands were in the gangway; then a violoncello, of whose
existence on board I was not aware, was passed up to the
hurricane-deck. Landy Perkins played on this instrument, which had been
purchased at St. George. I knew that Ben Bowman had formerly played in
the Montomercy Brass Band, and I saw him mount the ladder with his
cornet. In a few minutes our band was playing "There's music in the
air," though the first attempts were evidently not entirely
satisfactory to the musicians. After an hour's practice together the
music improved.
We sat on deck till a late hour. The next day, under the guidance of
Mr. Cornwood, the party visited the coquina quarries on Anastasia
Island, and wandered over the city again. In the evening the band
played again, reinforced by the Floridian, who played the cornet. He
told me confidentially that he was not in the habit of playing with
"niggers," but he was willing to do anything to contribute to the
pleasure of the party. I thought it was very condescending in him.
After three days at St. Augustine we sailed for Jacksonville.
CHAPTER VII.
THE ENEMY IN A NEW BUSINESS.
We had three ladies on board; but Tom Sands was the bedroom steward as
well as waiter, and I thought this was not just the thing. I came to
the conclusion, before we left St. Augustine, that we ought to have a
stewardess to wait upon the ladies. I spoke to Mr. Cornwood, and in a
few hours more we had Chloe, the wife of Griffin Leeds, duly installed
in that position.
She had no children, and did not appear to be more than twenty years
old. She was very neat and lively, and the ladies were much pleased
with her. She had had experience on a Charleston and a St. Johns
steamer. The forecastle of the Sylvania had not been used on the cruise
except as a store-room, and I had this prepared for the use of Leeds
and his wife. Peeks and Sands slept in the cabin; and if the stewardess
was wanted in the night, she could be called.
It was only a six or seven hours' run to Jacksonville, especially as we
had a strong south-westerly breeze, and carried all sail in addition to
our steam. We started at an early hour in the morning, so as to have
the tide right to cross the bar at the mouth of the river.
"You needn't put that flag in the fore-rigging," said Mr. Cornwood,
when he discovered the signal for a pilot flying, as we approached the
bar.
"Why not?" I asked, forgetting some of the wonderful things he had told
me he could do.
"I am a pilot for any waters of Florida, and I can take the steamer
across the bar as well as any man you will pay for this service," he
added, apparently hurt by the appearance of the ensign on the foremast.
"But you have neither branch nor warrant; and if anything should happen
to the Sylvania while she has not a regular pilot on board, my
passengers would never forgive me."
"But I know that bar as well as I knew the rooms in my father's house,"
protested the Floridian.
"But you are not an authorized pilot," I insisted.
I could not see why he was so strenuous about the matter, unless it was
because he thought I distrusted his ability. The steamer was not
insured, so that nothing depended upon that matter; but I could not
trust a pilot whose ability had not been proved. Cornwood was quite
sulky about the matter for some time, and declared that, if he was to
be of no use on board he did not care to remain. He had some
self-respect, and he could not take his salary if he did not earn it.
When the pilot came on board it proved to be the same one who had taken
us over in December. He had a great deal to say about the exciting
events of that day; and as he stood at the wheel he asked many
questions about the steamer and the man who had attempted to wreck her.
"I took an ice schooner up to Jacksonville about three weeks ago, and I
stopped a day in the city," said the pilot. "You see, I live on Fort
George Island, and when I go up to the city I always come down again as
soon as I can; but this time I stopped over for a day, for I had a
chance to bring a vessel down. I went into a saloon on Bay Street, and
who should I see behind the bar but the man that ran the other
steam-yacht into this one, or tried to do so, and got the boot on
t'other leg."
"What, Captain Boomsby?" I asked, astonished at the information.
"Yes, that's the name. I had forgotten what it was; and he hadn't got
his sign out then."
"Do you mean to say that he is in business in Jacksonville?" I asked.
"He keeps a saloon there."
"What sort of a saloon?"
"Why, a bar-room," replied the pilot, laughing. "He told me he had been
up north since I saw him, and had brought his family down. He lives
overhead the saloon; and he seemed to be doing a lively business."
"I am afraid he will be his own best customer," I added.
"I reckon he is, for he was getting rather full when I saw him."
"He talked about coming to Florida when I saw him in Michigan; but he
said he was going into the business of raising early vegetables and
oranges."
"He has got a place up the river, and means to raise truck for the
market besides. He must have some money."
"I think he has considerable property. He did not find farming in
Michigan as profitable as he expected. He is one of those men who want
to coin money all at once."
Shortly after noon we came to anchor off the city. The pilot leaped
into his canoe, and boarded a steamer going down the river. Colonel
Shepard was in a hurry to go on shore, and I landed him at once. The
steward went off to the market for ice and fresh provisions in the
other boat. I did not expect all my passengers to remain on board while
we were at Jacksonville. The Colonel had a house which had been badly
damaged by fire while we were here in December, and I had no doubt he
would occupy it, with his family, while we remained here.
He was not absent more than an hour, for his house was on St. James
Park, a short distance from the shore. Everything about it had been put
in complete repair, and it was ready for occupancy. In the afternoon we
landed the family, and the Hon. Mr. Tiffany and his daughter were
invited to go with them. The Sylvania seemed to be deserted when they
were gone; but in a few days we were to begin the trip up the river,
and in the meantime take the party on such excursions as they desired
to make. Of course Owen went with the Shepards.
Chloe had made herself so agreeable to the ladies that they desired her
to accompany them on shore. The steamer was in first-rate condition,
and there was nothing for anybody to do but eat and sleep. Mr. Kirby
Cornwood was still sulky because he had not been permitted to pilot the
vessel up from the ocean; but I was not disposed to comfort him. About
four o'clock, it was so quiet on board, I thought I would go on shore
for a while. Washburn was asleep in our room, and I did not disturb
him, for we had all been up till after midnight the night before,
listening to the music, and enjoying the moonlight.
I landed at the boat wharf opposite the Grand National Hotel, on Bay
Street. This is the principal street of the city, and both sides of it
are lined with stores, warehouses, and the principal public buildings.
It extends parallel with the river. At one end of it is the railroad
station and the Grand National; near the other end are the Carlton
Hotel and the Yacht Club house. Nearly all the business of the city is
done on this street.
When the stranger leaves Bay Street he seems to enter another country
in passing the distance of a single square. About all the other streets
are bordered with live-oaks or water-oaks, and every house has a
flower-garden and an orange grove, on a small scale. The balconies and
verandas are loaded with vines, which are in full flower in March. The
air is scented with the fragrance of the jasmine. The sidewalks are of
wood, and the roads are the original soil, which looks like the blue
house-sand of the North.
St. James Park is two squares from Bay Street. All of one side of it is
occupied by the St. James Hotel. In the centre of the park is a small
kiosk, from which one may take in the surroundings. Like all the rest
of Florida, even the fertile orange groves, the soil looks like blue
sand. There are plenty of semi-tropical plants, and the scene is as
unlike anything in the North as possible. In every lot there are
orange-trees, with oranges on them; but they are not the eatable fruit.
They are bitter or sour oranges, which remain on the trees all winter.
The orange-trees blossom in March; and then the air is densely loaded
with their perfume. The leaves remain green all winter; but in the
early spring they begin to put forth new shoots and leaves. The old
leaves are dark green, and the new ones light. On the same tree may be
seen the old and the new leaves, the ripe fruit, and the richly-scented
blossoms. Coming from the frozen North in March, the traveller seems to
be hurled into "eternal summer," more like fairy-land than anything
else, as the wheels whirl him into Jacksonville.
I had seen the place in December, coming from the summer of a more
northern latitude. I had spent the winter in more tropical regions, and
the flowers and the oranges were nothing new to me. When I landed I was
thinking of the post-office, which was my first objective point. We had
been moving about so much that I had not received a single letter since
I left Jacksonville in December. The post-office is on Bay Street,
nearer the northern than the southern end of the street. I walked in
that direction; but I had not gone ten rods before I saw Captain
Boomsby standing at the door of one of the numerous saloons on that
street.
I halted to look at him. His face was very red, and he had grown quite
stout since he sailed the Great West, in which I had had the roughest
experience of my lifetime with him. He wore no coat, for his fat and
the fires of the whiskey he drank kept him in a fever-heat all the
time. I kept back behind a pile of goods on the sidewalk while I
surveyed him, and I hoped he would not see me. He seemed to be waiting
for customers; and though I desired him to have none, I wished him to
retire within his shop, and allow me to pass without being seen.
I was dressed in the full uniform of the steam-yacht, with a white
canvas cap. He had seen me in this rig enough to know it, and my
chances of passing him without being seen were very small. But I was
not afraid of him, and I was rather ashamed of the idea of dodging him.
Taking the outside of the sidewalk, and looking intently at the other
side of the street, where the retail dry-goods and curiosity shops were
located, I attempted to get by the saloon without being seen by its
proprietor.
"Why, Sandy, how are you?" demanded Captain Boomsby, rushing out to me
and seizing me by the hand.
In spite of my hanging back, he dragged me to the door of the saloon.
"How do you do, Captain Boomsby?" I replied coldly.
"Come in and take sunthin', Sandy," he persisted, dragging me into the
saloon in spite of my resistance. "You are about man-grown now, and I
cal'late you can take a drop of whiskey, on a pinch."
"No, I thank you; I never take any," I replied, disgusted with his
manner and his invitation.
"You hain't been to sea all this time without learnin' to take your
grog?" he continued, with a coarse laugh.
"I never drank a drop in my life, and I don't mean to do so," I
answered.
"You'll learn in good time. Set down, Sandy, and tell me where you've
been."
I told him in as few words as possible where I had been, and answered
all his questions about my passengers. Then he told me he lived over
the saloon, and insisted that I should go up and see the "old woman." I
was a little curious to see Mrs. Boomsby, and I followed him up-stairs.
CHAPTER VIII.
A DISAGREEABLE ROOM-MATE.
I had not seen Mrs. Boomsby for several years; and though I had no
reason to expect anything but abuse from her, my curiosity induced me
to see her. If anything, she was more of a tyrant than her brutal
husband, and I had no occasion to thank her for anything she had done
for me. She was the more plucky of the pair, and it had surprised me,
years before, to learn that she "ruled the roost." At that time the
captain was actually afraid of her.
"You have got pretty well up in the world, Captain Boomsby," I said
when we had gone up two flights of stairs and were about to ascend a
third.
"Well, you see, I let all these lower rooms; and the folks is jest as
well off up three pair of stairs as up one," he replied, almost out of
breath, for the stairs told more heavily on him than on me. "Besides, I
like to have the old woman as far as I can from the business; she don't
interfere so much then."
The old reprobate chuckled then as though he had said something smart;
but I would have given a quarter to have had his wife overhear the
remark, for the fun of the scene that would have ensued.
"Parker Boomsby! where on earth air you goin'?" shouted a shrill, but
very familiar voice on the floor below us.
"All right," replied the captain, evidently much disturbed by the call.
"I thought she was up here; but she always turns up just where you
don't want her. But come up, Sandy; I want to show you a room I've
fixed up."
"No, I thank you; as Mrs. Boomsby is not up here, I think I will go
down," I replied, beginning to retrace my steps.
"What are you doin' with strangers up gerret, Parker Boomsby?" demanded
the lady on the floor below.
"I've got sunthin' up here that belongs to you, Sandy; I want to give
it to you," pleaded the captain. "I fetched you up here to give it to
you afore I took you in to see the old woman."
I concluded that he had some reason for taking me to the attic of the
house, and I was curious to know what it was. It is true he had led me
to believe that his wife was in this part of the house; but that might
have been one of his huge jokes. I followed him up the last flight of
stairs. I was then on the fourth floor of the house. There were two
large and two small chambers in this attic, none of which appeared to
be furnished.
"It is in this room," said Captain Boomsby, leading me into the rear
hall chamber. "It's a little grain dark in here."
I saw that the window that looked out on the river-side of the house
had been boarded up. He led the way into the room, and I followed him.
"I've got a picter of you when you wasn't more'n four year old. It was
taken when you was in the poor-house, by a feller that come along
taking picters, to show what he could do. It hangs on the wall over
here," continued the captain, passing between me and the door. "You can
look at it all the rest of the day, if you like."
Suddenly he dodged out of the door, and I heard the bolt spring as he
locked the door behind him. I had not expected that he would resort to
any trick to get possession of me; and I had been as unsuspicious as
though I were on board of the Sylvania. In fact, I was amazed at the
hardihood of the man in attempting to make a prisoner of me in this
manner. For some reason or other, I was not at all alarmed at my
situation. I did not consider the door absolutely invulnerable; and I
was confident that I had strength enough to remove the boards that had
been nailed up before the window.
When I had been in the room a few minutes, there was light enough which
came through the cracks in the boards before the window to enable me to
see where I was. There was not an article of furniture of any kind in
the apartment. The boards appeared to be securely fastened, not with
nails, as I had supposed, but with screws. The boards were of hard
pine, and about as strong as oak. My prison was stronger than it seemed
at first.
I came to the conclusion before I had been in the room ten minutes,
that this apartment had been prepared for my reception. Captain Boomsby
knew that the Sylvania was to return to Jacksonville, as others did. It
was plain that he had not yet given up the idea of possessing the
steamer. He claimed to be my guardian, and to have the legal right to
possess whatever belonged to me. Carrington had told him my father was
dead, and he believed he could carry his point. I had certainly been
bound out to him until I was of age; but he had surrendered all his
claims to me in writing to my father, though this document had been
destroyed in the fire.
The fact that I had a father, rendered his claim upon me of no value. I
was satisfied that no lawyer would undertake the case he proposed to
make out against me. I learned that he had tried in Charleston to
employ a legal gentleman to assist him in his work of getting
possession of the steamer; but no one could furnish any warrant of law
for the proceeding. I was not disposed to bother my head with the legal
aspect of the case, for my ancient enemy certainly had no legal right
to kidnap me, and make me a prisoner in his own house. I was a
prisoner; and when I came to a realizing sense of the fact, I was ready
for business.
"What on airth are you doin' up here, Parker Boomsby?" snarled the wife
of that worthy; and as I stood at the door of my prison, I could hear
her pant from the violence of her exertions in ascending the stairs,
for, like her liege lord, she had greatly increased her avoirdupois
since I lived with the family at Glossenbury. Possibly she drank too
much whiskey, like the companion of her joys and sorrows, though I had
no information on this point. I only knew that she used to take a
little when she was too hot or too cold, when she was wet or when she
was dry.
"Hush, Nancy! Don't cut up now!" pleaded the master of the house, as
perhaps he supposed he was.
"Don't talk to me, Parker Boomsby! What are you a-doin' up here? What
sort of a con-spy-racy be you gittin' up at this blessed moment? Don't
talk to me about cuttin' up! It is you that is allus cuttin' up, and
never tellin' your peaceful, sufferin' wife what you are doin',"
replied Mrs. Boomsby; and I was confident she had been drinking to some
extent, from her maudlin tones.
"Hush, Nancy! I've got Sandy Duddleton, with all his fine sodjer's
clothes on, in that room," said the captain, in a tone of triumph. "I
shall make him give up that steam-yachet; and I shall run her as a
reg'lar line up to Green Cove Springs, stoppin' at our orange farm both
ways," replied Captain Boomsby, using his best efforts to appease the
anger of his spouse.
"Hev you got him in there?" demanded the lady, evidently entirely
mollified by the announcement of her husband. "I want to see him. I
hain't sot eyes on him sence I see him in Michigan."
"It won't do to open the door: he'll git away if I do. Wait till he
gits tamed down a little, and then you shall see him. Good gracious! I
forgot all about the bar! Jest as like as not some nigger will come in
and help hisself to the best liquor behind the counter. Run down,
Nancy, and tell Nicholas to tend to the bar," said the captain.
"Run down yourself, you old fool!" replied the amiable lady. "Do you
think I come clear up here for nothin'? I want to see Sandy Duddleton
in his sodjer's clothes."
"It won't do to open that door: he will git out if you do. But I must
go down and look out for the bar. I shouldn't wonder if I had lost ten
cents by this time," replied Captain Boomsby; and I heard his heavy
step on the stairs as he went down.
A moment later I heard a hand applied to the handle of the door, and I
had no doubt it was Mrs. Boomsby trying to open it in order to obtain a
view of "Sandy Duddleton," which was the name by which I was known when
an inmate of the poor-house. But the door was locked, and the key was
in the pocket of the proprietor of the saloon. The lady seemed to be
angry because she could not get into the room where I was; and I must
add that I was also sorry she could not, for if she could get in, I
could get out.
She tried the door several times, but she could not get in. She said
nothing to me; and as I expected no assistance from her, I said
nothing. Presently I heard her step on the stairs, hardly less heavy
than that of her husband. I concluded that it must be five o'clock by
this time; and looking at my watch, I found it was half an hour later.
I wanted to get out before dark; and so far, I had not matured any plan
to accomplish this purpose. I went to the window, and examined the
boards which had been screwed up before it.
I had a large jack-knife in my pocket, which I had carried for several
years. It had a kind of scimitar-shaped blade I had used when at work
on rigging. But I had little hope of being able to remove the screws
from the hard pine, which was as hard to work as oak. I struck a match
I had in my pocket, and by the light of it made a careful examination
of the screw-heads in the boards. I saw that holes had been bored in
the wood to admit the screws: indeed, it would have been impossible to
get them through without boring. Of course this would make it easier to
remove the screws.
But what was the use of taking down the boards in front of the window?
I could not jump down from the attic floor of the building. Yet I could
go to the next window, come into the house again, and then go
down-stairs, the same as anybody would. I noticed that the lowest board
was not more than two inches wide: it had been cut to fit what remained
uncovered of the window. I applied my knife to the screws in this
narrow strip. Though they were hard to move, I succeeded in getting
them out. But the labor of taking down the rest of the boards, or
enough of them to enable me to pass out, was so great that I was
discouraged in the attempt to accomplish it. The end of the knife-blade
did not fit the slit of the screw.
The removal of the narrow board admitted light enough to enable me to
see all about the room. Next to the door which opened into the hall was
another, which I concluded led into a closet. There was no picture of
me when I was a small child; and I wondered if Captain Boomsby had
invented that fable on the spot. I was not willing to believe it. It
would have required too great an exercise of imaginative power for him;
and it was not unlikely that he had spent weeks in evolving the
brilliant fiction.
I did not expect to be left alone and unguarded for any great length of
time. My persecutor knew that I had some enterprise about me, and that
I would not tamely submit to my imprisonment. Perhaps he noticed that I
wore light shoes, and should not be likely to kick the door down with
them, as I might if I had on thick cowhide boots. I picked up the
narrow strip of board I had removed from the window; it was very heavy
for its size. If I had got a purchase on the door of the room, I could
have pried it down; but there was no chance to get hold of it.
Possibly there was something in the closet that would aid me. I opened
the door. As I did so, an ugly-looking snake darted out into the room.
He coiled himself up in one corner of the room and showed fight, while
I fled to the opposite corner.
CHAPTER IX.
A BATTLE WITH THE SERPENT.
I had no idea what the snake was, for I had never seen one of that kind
before. I am not particularly afraid of snakes, though they are very
disagreeable to me. When I was at work in the field as a farmer, I
suppose I never lost an opportunity to kill one that came in my way.
But all these were harmless reptiles, and of late years I have not been
disposed to meddle with them.
The snake that introduced himself to me so unexpectedly was not more
than three feet long. He was of a greenish-brown color, with some
yellow on the sides. I had the strip of board I had taken from the
window in my hand when the reptile darted out of the closet. I don't
think he had any particular intentions, at first, except to get out of
his prison, as I had to get out of mine. I could not blame him for
anything he had done so far. Like myself, he was a prisoner, and we
ought to have been in full sympathy with each other.
I had released his snakeship from one prison, and placed him so much
nearer to entire freedom. To this extent I was entitled to his
gratitude, though I did not expect much of him. As he darted out of the
closet, I sprang from his path into the corner of the room, behind the
hall-door. The next instant he was coiled into a round heap. Then he
raised his head from the middle of the coil about a foot, as it seemed
to me, though it could hardly have been so high.
So far from feeling anything like gratitude for the favor I had done
him, the villain made war upon me. Suddenly he made a spring at me; but
I had both eyes wide open, and was watching him with the most intense
anxiety. As he leaped, I hit him with the stick in my hand; and he
fetched up against the wall, on the inside of the closet. I have no
doubt his striking against the partition caused some confusion in his
ideas: at any rate, he dropped on the floor, and began to wriggle about
in such a manner as no decent snake would, unless his ideas were
confused.
[Illustration: A BATTLE WITH THE SERPENT. Page 94.]
My curiosity in regard to that identical snake was entirely satisfied,
and I made haste to close the closet-door. I felt that I had no further
business with that snake. It has taken me some time to tell about this
reptile; but I think the villain was not out of the closet more than
three seconds; at any rate, it was a very few seconds. He did business
with great rapidity. He had lost no time in coming out of his prison,
and none in making his attack on me. He had wasted no time in
conducting operations; and if I had not had the bit of board in my
hand, I am afraid the snake would have got the better of me.
At the time I had no acquaintance with this snake, though he never
waits for a formal introduction when he means business. I know now that
he was a moccasin. I saw many of them in the woods of Florida. They are
as venomous as the rattlesnake, and are even more dreaded by many
people, for they give no notice of their intention to strike. In the
English books of natural history this snake is called the water viper.
The copperhead is one of the same sort.
I felt as happy as the patron saint of Ireland must have felt after he
had boxed up the old serpent, and sunk him at the bottom of the lake. I
had the enemy where he could not harm me, for it was not possible for
him to make his way through the door. I took the precaution to see that
there were no holes or cracks through which the snake could again force
himself into my unwilling company. I could find no opening of any kind.
For the present I felt entirely safe.
Though I did not know anything about the kind of snake I was shut up
with, I felt from the beginning that he was poisonous, and that his
bite would make an end of me. I had closeted him; and now I had time to
consider the situation. I came promptly to the conclusion that he was
put into that closet for my benefit. The conspiracy seemed to be almost
too crafty for Captain Boomsby; though I knew that he was capable of
doing such a thing.
When I had considered this subject for a few minutes, I found my blood
boiling with indignation. Before I saw the snake, I was more inclined
to regard the whole trick in the light of a practical joke, rather than
as a serious matter. It seemed to me just then that my ancient enemy,
in his bargain with Carrington, intended to resort to some such device
to get rid of me.
I did not intend to spend the night in that attic chamber; and when my
blood began to boil, I aimed a blow at one of the panels of the door
with the heavy stick in my hand. The thin board that formed this part
of the door split under the blow. I followed it up as though I had been
chopping wood. The panel shivered under the vigorous assault I made
upon it. In a minute, I had a hole through. Inserting my stick in the
opening, I pried out the rest of the panel. But the hole was not big
enough to admit the passage of my body.
I had hardly succeeded in making a breach in the door, before I heard
the most lusty screams in the lower part of the house. I had no
difficulty in recognizing the voice of Mrs. Boomsby. She heard the
noise of my bombardment, and was calling her husband in her usual
affectionate manner. But I was not at all disturbed by the outcry. I
was even willing they should bring the police to their assistance. But
I did not expect any outside aid would be called in, for that would do
the Boomsbys more harm than it would me. In a word, I did not care who
came: I intended to break my way out of my prison, all the same.
Placing my stick edgeways in the opening I had made, I had a good
leverage, the end of the bar being outside of the stile of the door,
and the face of it against the middle piece. I pushed against the end
of the lever with all the power I had. The middle stile snapped in the
mortise, for the whole door was not more than an inch and a quarter
thick. I had broken out the mortise, and the lever went "home." I could
no longer apply the implement with effect, and I expected every minute
to see the portly form of Captain Boomsby on the stairs, hurrying up to
save his prisoner. But I had no fear of him: if he attempted to prevent
my departure, I should use the stick as an argument with him, as I had
done with the door.
Finding I could no longer use the lever to advantage, I grasped the
middle piece of the door with both hands, and gave a desperate pull at
it. There were no nails or pins to resist me, and the parts of the door
snapped like pipe-stems. I wrenched out the middle piece, and then the
other panel. Then I had an opening in the door eighteen inches wide,
which was almost enough to permit the passage of my fat foe.
The middle piece and both panels of the upper part of the door lay in
many pieces on the floor, in the room, and in the hall. I used all
reasonable haste in making my way through the opening I had forced.
When I was in the hall, I began to feel good-natured again; for I will
not deny that I was mad when I realized my relations with that snake. I
did not care a straw for Captain Boomsby. If it came to the worst, I
believed I could "handle" him, to use his own choice phrase, with the
aid of the stick in my hand. I was determined not to let the piece of
hard pine go out of my hands while I remained in the house.
Mrs. Boomsby was still shouting for "Parker Boomsby," for she always
called him by his full name when she was excited. I was willing she
should shout. I felt quite cool, composed, and pleasant. I was ready to
make an orderly retreat from the house. But I had not lost all interest
in that snake, which I believed was intended for my executioner. I put
my head into the opening I had made in the door. I found I could reach
the door of the closet; and with a very hasty movement I threw it wide
open.
I wondered whether or not I had killed his snakeship when I poked him
back into his prison. The last I had seen of him he was wriggling on
the floor, stirring himself up in the most lively manner. But the
reptile immediately proved that I had not killed him by darting out
into the room as lively as he had done the same thing before. I did not
believe it was possible for him to get out through the opening by which
I had escaped from my prison; but I was not quite willing to wait to
test the question. The villain could crawl like most other snakes with
which I was familiar, but he also had a talent for leaping. I
considered it wise and prudent to begin my retreat without any delay.
I took a last look at the snake. He had retreated to the corner of the
room opposite the closet-door and coiled himself up, with his head in
the centre. He kept his eyes fixed on me, or I fancied he did. He
looked as ugly as sin itself. He seemed to me to be as near like
Captain Boomsby as one pin is like another. They both did business on
the same principle. Mentally I bade him an affectionate adieu. So far
as I was concerned, he seemed to have none of the serpent's power of
fascination, for I had not the slightest inclination to continue gazing
at him after I had gratified my curiosity. I descended the upper flight
of stairs. The doors of the rooms on this floor were all open, and I
saw that the two rear chambers were furnished as bedrooms.
I went into one of these rooms, and seated myself in a chair. Mrs.
Boomsby was on the floor below, standing at the head of the stairs,
calling for her husband. It has taken me a long time to record the
incidents of my escape so far, and my reflections upon them; but when I
looked at my watch I found that only eight minutes had elapsed since I
consulted it before, at half past five. Probably it was not five
minutes from the time I first saw the snake till I was seated in the
chair in the room below. The lady of the house had not, therefore,
stood a great while in her present position. Her husband had had time
enough to come up-stairs since he was first called, but he probably had
a customer in the saloon.
As I sat in the chair, I suddenly began to wonder whether snakes had a
talent for coming down-stairs. The idea was just a little bit
appalling, for I had no desire to meet his snakeship again. Neither the
stairs nor the halls were carpeted. If he came down in the usual way, I
should be likely to hear him tumbling down the steps. But I rejected
this idea; for on further reflection I concluded that a snake would not
come down like a man, when there was a better way for one of his habits
to accomplish the purpose. Whatever the villain was, if he came down at
all, he would take to the stair-rail. I felt sure of this, for it
seemed to be the most natural thing for a snake to do.
I could not see how the snake was to get out of the room. I did not
think he could crawl up to the opening I had made, for there was
nothing for him to fasten to in his ascent. It did not seem to me that
he could get out unless he made a flying leap through the opening. I
was by no means sure he could not do this; and I did not care to wait
for him to experiment on the matter. Just then it occurred to me that I
was not the only person liable to be bitten by that snake. As I thought
of it, I walked down the stairs. I knew that Mrs. Boomsby had a mortal
terror of snakes when I lived with the family.
She confronted me in the hall of the second story.
CHAPTER X.
THE FELLOW IN THE LOCK-UP.
"You abominable wretch!" exclaimed Mrs. Boomsby, placing her arms
akimbo, and looking at me with the utmost ferocity, so that between her
and the snake I found there was little choice. "What are you a-doin' in
my house?"
"Getting out of it, Mrs. Boomsby," I replied, with the good-nature I
had been nursing up-stairs for several minutes.
I wondered whether she knew anything about the snake. The bare thought
was enough to assure me that she did not. She would no more have
permitted the captain, or any other person, to bring the most harmless
reptile into the house, than she would have opened her sleeping
apartment for the reception of the sea-serpent, in which both she and
her husband believed as in the ocean itself.
"What are you a-doin' here? Can't you let us be here no more'n you
could in Michigan? Must you pursue us wherever we go?" demanded the
lady, putting the matter in an entirely new light to me, for I believed
I had always been able and willing to keep away from the Boomsbys.
"I was invited up-stairs to see you," I began.
"Don't tell me that! Do you think I live in the garret?"
"I thought we were going rather high up; but I supposed Captain Boomsby
knew where to find you," I replied, smiling as sweetly as though there
were no snakes in the Land of Flowers. "But it seems that your husband
lured me up there to make a prisoner of me. He locked me into the
little room in the rear attic, which he had fitted up for me by
screwing boards over the window."
"Don't tell me such a ry-dicerlous story! I don't believe a word on't.
Nobody ever could believe a word you say, Sandy Duddleton!"
"You know very well that I was up there; for I heard your husband tell
you so. You talked with him about it, and insisted upon seeing me. But
I don't wish to dispute about this matter with you, for I don't think
you understand all his plans," I replied, moving towards the head of
the stairs, while she planted herself before me so as to prevent my
going down.
"Don't talk to me, Sandy Duddleton!"
"I won't talk to you if you will get out of my way, and let me out of
the house," I replied, trying to get by her.
"What be you go'n' to do with that stick?" she asked, as she placed
herself in front of me.
But I saw that she had a reasonable respect for the stick, and she was
milder than I had seen her twenty times before. I looked about me to
see if there was any other flight of stairs which would take me to the
street, or to the back yard, which opened into a lane by the shore of
the river. From the lower hall a door opened into the saloon; and this
was the way by which I had come up. I stood in the hall with my back to
a door, which I concluded must lead to the rear of the house. Without
turning around, I opened this door.
"What be you a-doin'?" demanded Mrs. Boomsby, when she saw that she was
flanked; for a glance behind me revealed the back stairs. "Parker
Boomsby, come right up here, this minute!" she called down the front
stairs.
"I won't trouble the captain," I interposed. "I have a word to say to
you before I go, Mrs. Boomsby. I don't think you knew there was a snake
about three feet long in the room where your husband made me a
prisoner."
"A snake!" gasped the lady of the house, starting back with alarm. "I
don't believe a word on't!"
But she did believe it, whatever she said.
"Yes, a snake; and I have no doubt he is a poisonous one, put there to
bite me, and make an end of me, so that the captain could get
possession of the steam-yacht!" I continued, rather vigorously, for I
was afraid I should be interrupted by the coming of the captain.
"A snake in this house! a pizen one, too!" groaned Mrs. Boomsby.
"He was put in the closet; and when I opened the door he came out and
made a spring at me. I left him in that room."
"Didn't you kill him, Sandy Duddleton? You used to kill snakes."
"I didn't kill this one, though I struck at him. I broke through the
door, and, for aught I know, the snake is following me down-stairs," I
replied deliberately. "I think you will see him coming down on the
stair-rail."
She did not wait to hear any more, but, with a tremendous scream,
rushed by me, bolted into the front room, and closed and locked the
door behind her. I certainly did not wish the reptile to bite her or
her children; but I did not think there was much danger of the villain
getting out of the room through the opening I had made in the door.
The scream of the stout lady did not appear to move her husband, who
was probably used to this sort of thing. I had put her on her guard in
case the snake did work his way out of the room and down the stairs. I
had done my duty, and I walked leisurely down to the hall. The door
leading into the saloon was still wide open. The uses of this door were
many and various. I had been not a little surprised in some of the
Southern cities to notice that the drinking-saloons were all closed on
Sunday. In some of them not even a cigar could be bought at the hotel
on that day.
Doubtless the law was as strict in Jacksonville as elsewhere; but I had
noticed that every saloon had a side door for Sunday use. The front
door of the house was closed on other days; on Sunday it was left open,
as an intimation that the saloon could be reached in that way. I
thought of this Sunday rum-selling as I noticed the arrangement of the
doors. Of course the police understood it.
I approached the door opening into the saloon, for I heard the voice of
my former tyrant. I wanted to assure him that I was happy still, and
that he had better look out for the snake before he bit any of his
family.
"He never could get out of there in this world!" exclaimed Captain
Boomsby, as I was about to enter the saloon.
"Do you think so, Captain Boomsby?" I coolly asked, as I walked into
the room.
To my astonishment, the person to whom the Captain's remark appeared to
be addressed was Mr. Kirby Cornwood, whom I had left on board of the
Sylvania, asleep under the awning. The Floridian was evidently as much
astonished to see me as I was to see him.
"We were speaking of a fellow who was arrested last night," said
Cornwood, with one of his blandest smiles. "I think he will get out of
the lock-up in less than three days; but the keeper of this place
remarked that he would never get out in this world. Only a slight
difference of opinion."
"I tell you the fellow will never get out; he isn't smart enough in the
first place, and the lock-up is stronger than you think for, Mr.--I
don't know's I know your name, though I cal'late I have seen you
somewhere afore," added Captain Boomsby.
"I reckon you have seen me here before," replied Cornwood, taking his
card from his pocket and presenting it to the captain.
"I can't read it without my glasses," said the saloon-keeper, holding
the card off at arm's length.
"My name is Kirby Cornwood," added the Floridian.
"Well, Mr. Corngood, do you----"
"My name is Cornwood," interposed the guide.
"I beg your parding, Mr. Cornwool."
"Cornwood," repeated the owner of that name, rather indignantly.
"All right, Mr. Cornwood. Do you want to bet sunthin' that man won't
git out within three days?" continued Captain Boomsby.
"I don't care to bet on it; in fact I never bet," replied Mr. Cornwood,
glancing at me, as though he expected me to approve this position,
which I certainly did, though I said nothing.
"I will bet five dollars agin three the feller gits out in less than
three days, Mr. Woodcorn," persisted Captain Boomsby.
I could not see what the captain was driving at, unless it was to vex
the Floridian by miscalling his name. I had known him to do the same
thing before. If my old tyrant had manifested some surprise at first at
seeing me, he seemed to have got over it very quickly. I was very glad
indeed to be satisfied that Cornwood had no knowledge of my
imprisonment in the attic, as I supposed he had when I entered the
saloon. I had employed him, and was then paying him five dollars a day
for doing nothing. I did not wish to believe that he was a friend of my
ancient enemy.
"Captain Boomsby, I had to break a hole through the door of the room in
which you locked me, in order to get out," I said, as soon as I had an
opportunity to get in a word.
"Then you must pay for it, for the landlord will charge it to me," said
he, promptly.
"I think not; and if it were not for the time it would take, I would
complain of you at the police office. I don't know what kind of a snake
it was you put into the closet for my benefit; but I think you will
find him running about your house by this time," I replied. "I gave
Mrs. Boomsby warning of the danger, and she has locked herself into her
room."
"What snake, Sandy Duddleton? What you talking about?" demanded the
captain. But I could see that he was not a little disturbed by the
information.
"You put a poisonous snake into the closet of that room where you
locked me in. You expected me to open the door of the closet, and let
him out. I did open the closet-door and let him out; but I did not give
him a chance to bite me," I continued, rehearsing the facts for the
benefit of Cornwood rather than my tyrant.
"What on airth are you talking about, Sandy? I don't know nothin' about
no snake," protested Captain Boomsby.
"I think you know all about the snake, and that you put him there for
my benefit. I have nothing further to say about the matter, except that
the creature is still in your house, and that he will bite one of your
children as readily as he would me. I advise you to attend to the
matter, and have him killed," I continued, moving toward the door.
"Stop a minute, Sandy," called my persecutor. "What sort of a snake was
it?"
"I don't know; I never saw one like it before."
"I guess I know sunthin' about it, arter all," said Captain Boomsby,
with a troubled look. "I had a lodger in the house, and he had an attic
room. He had a lot of young alligators, rattlesnakes, lizards, and
other critters; and I let him put 'em in that room. He screwed the
boards over the winder so they couldn't git out. I cal'late this was
one of his snakes."
I had no doubt this story was all an invention, but I had no means of
showing to the contrary. He begged me to go up-stairs, and help him
kill the "varmint;" but I declined to do this, for I was not willing
again to make myself the victim of his treachery. The captain called
his son Nicholas from the front shop, which was a cigar store, and told
him to look out for the bar.
Before he could go up-stairs two black policemen entered the saloon,
armed with sticks. Mrs. Boomsby had told them what the matter was, and
they had come in to kill the reptile. I left the premises, followed by
Cornwood.
CHAPTER XI.
THE HON. PARDON TIFFANY'S WARNING.
I learned the next day, from one of the negro policemen who had been
called in, that the snake had got out of the room where I left him, and
that he had been found on the stair-rail, a floor below where I had
confronted him. My informant told me he had killed him as he was
crawling along the rail, on his way down another flight.
"He was only tryin' to git away, sah," added the policeman. "Dey allus
run away when dey can, dem moccasins do; but dey spring at folks, and
bite when dey git cornered. Awful bad snake, sah. Wuss'n a rattlesnake.
Bite kill a man, suah."
When I left the saloon, I walked with Cornwood to the post-office. When
we were in the street, he volunteered the opinion that Captain Boomsby
was the greatest scoundrel in Jacksonville; and without going into the
comparative merits of the question, I was not disposed to dispute the
point. Cornwood seemed to feel relieved after he had expressed this
opinion, and the subject was dropped.
I had told a colored clerk in the post-office to keep all letters for
me until my return, for when we left Jacksonville I could not tell
where we were going, and I expected to be back a month sooner. He
greeted me very politely when I presented myself at the window, and
handed me a large package of letters, secured with a rubber band. I
thanked him for his kindness; and I must add that this one and another
colored clerk I saw in Charleston, were more polite and gentlemanly
than many a white clerk I have encountered in more northern cities.
Though I had received no letters for over two months, I had not failed
to write them regularly to Mr. Brickland, and to my father since I had
been assured that he was still living. I looked over the package that
had been handed to me. There were two from my father. My heart thrilled
with emotion when I recognized the handwriting. I thought no more of
Captain Boomsby and his snake.
"Will there be anything I can do for you to-day or to-night, Captain
Garningham?" asked Cornwood, as I stood looking at the outside of my
letters.
"Nothing," I replied.
"Then I think I will sleep on shore, if you have no objection," he
added.
"None whatever," I answered; and with the bundle of letters in my hand,
I was glad to get rid of him, for he was rather officious, and often
interrupted me in my state-room when there was not the least need of
it.
Cornwood raised his Panama hat, bowed politely to me, and then hastened
out of the building. He had hardly disappeared before the Hon. Mr.
Tiffany came into the office. He dropped some letters into the box, and
then approached me with a smiling face. All I had seen of this
gentleman pleased me very much. My father called him his best friend in
the letter of introduction brought to me. For this reason, if for no
other, I should have respected and esteemed him; but I was not glad to
see him at this moment. I wanted to be alone with my letters.
"Good evening, Captain Alick," said he. "I see you have a large packet
of letters, and I won't interrupt you but for a moment. Are you going
on board of the steamer now?"
"Yes, sir; I thought I would go on board and read my letters. Two of
them are from my father--the first I have received from him for many
months," I replied, wishing to have him understand my situation fully.
"I will not keep you from them a moment," he added, considerately. "But
I suppose you will not attempt to read them till you go on board?"
"No, sir," I answered, putting the two letters from my father into my
breast-pocket, with my most valuable papers, and dropping the others
into a side-pocket. "I can't read them very well in the street."
"Then I will walk with you to your boat," continued Mr. Tiffany.
"I shall go to the wharf on which the market is located, and hail the
steamer. I have found that is the best place to land."
We left the office, and walked up the street. My companion evidently
had something to say to me, and had possibly started to go on board for
the purpose of seeing me. I did not feel much interest in anything he
might have to say under the circumstances.
"Just before I joined you in the post-office, I saw you with Mr.
Cornwood. Pray don't think I wish to meddle impertinently with your
affairs, Captain Alick," said Mr. Tiffany; and he seemed to be somewhat
embarrassed about saying what he wished to say.
"By no means, sir," I replied, beginning to feel an interest in the
conversation; but rather on account of the manner than the matter of
what he said.
"Then if you won't take offence, I wish to say that I desire to warn
you in regard to this man Cornwood," continued the friend of my father.
"You desire to warn me in regard to Mr. Cornwood!" I exclaimed,
stopping short on the sidewalk, so great was my surprise at his words,
as well as his manner.
"I beg you will not take any offence at what I say, Captain Alick, for
I assure you I have nothing but the best of motives towards you,"
protested Mr. Tiffany, as we resumed our walk.
"I shall not take offence at anything you say, sir," I answered.
"After the very great service you have rendered me, you must think I am
inhuman to be ungrateful to you so soon," continued Mr. Tiffany. "I
assure you there is nothing like ingratitude in my heart; and I would
wrong myself a thousand times before I would wrong you once."
"I believe every word you say, sir: and it has not even occurred to me
to suspect your motives," I replied with energy. "The letter you
brought me from my father would cause me to put entire confidence in
you; but without that, I should not for an instant suspect you of
anything unworthy towards me, or anybody else. When you warned me
against Mr. Cornwood, I was surprised on account of something which
occurred this afternoon."
"I shall not even ask you what occurred this afternoon; and you may
keep your own counsel in regard to Mr. Cornwood. I repeat that I have
not the least desire to meddle with your affairs."
"As the best friend of my father, I am sure I should value your advice
and counsel very highly."
"I do not often counsel or advise anybody out of my own family, unless
I am asked to do so. Here is the market wharf; and I have said all I
have to say in regard to Mr. Cornwood. I only desire to warn you to
keep your eyes wide open in dealing with him, for I learned from Owen
that you have engaged the Florida person for your journey up the
river."
"Do you know anything about him, Mr. Tiffany?" I asked, as much
surprised to hear that he had nothing more to say as I had been, in the
first place, to learn that he had anything to say in regard to the
guide.
"I can't say that I do," he replied, with a rather vacant look.
"Why do you warn me against him, then?"
"That is certainly a very pertinent question, Captain Alick. I have no
right to say anything against this person, for I know nothing against
him. While I will not harm him, I warn you to look out for him."
"I suppose you must have some reason for what you say," I added, as I
waved my handkerchief in the direction of the Sylvania, as a signal for
a boat.
"Undoubtedly I have some reason for what I say. It may be enough to
cause me to suspect him. I have only asked you to look out for him, for
I do not feel at liberty to utter a word to his disparagement until I
know it is true."
Mr. Tiffany seemed to be very earnest in what he said; but I was
disappointed because he did not say more. He had been in Jacksonville a
week before he went to St. Augustine; and it was possible that he had
seen something of the guide during his stay.
"I see that you are not quite satisfied with what I have said. I cannot
blame you for feeling so; but I should blame myself if I said anything
more about this man," continued my father's friend. "I make no charge
against Cornwood; I only say, as I might if we were facing a strange
snake, he may do us harm, and we must look out for ourselves. Really,
that is all I can say about the matter."
By this time the port boat had come up to the wharf. Mr. Tiffany bade
me good night, and hastened up the pier. I was not satisfied, as he had
suggested. He suspected Cornwood of something, but he did not even say
what, much less give me the grounds for his suspicion. But I could
obtain no more, and went into the boat. In a few minutes I was on the
deck of the steamer. My supper was all ready, and I was obliged to
attend to it before I looked at my letters.
My state-room was lighted, and I was by myself. At last I was alone
with my letters. Washburn was on the forward deck, discussing the
condition of the South with Griffin Leeds. I took out the two letters
from my father. Both of them were mailed in London, though my father's
home was in Shalford, Essex, about fifty miles from the great city. One
was postmarked December 15th, and the other January 2d. I opened the
one of the earliest date.
It was written immediately after his return to England from India. He
had received no letters or intelligence of any kind from me for many
months. He had been so worried about me that he could hardly stay to
complete his business in India. He found nothing from me on his arrival
at his home, nothing at the office of his solicitor, to whom all my
letters had been forwarded, in London. He wrote that he found Mr.
Carrington had gone to America, and his office was in charge of his
confidential clerk.
I understood it all. This clerk must have destroyed all my letters to
my father as soon as they reached the office, as he had been instructed
to do by his employer. I felt sick at heart when I realized the
distress of my father at getting no tidings from me. But since I sailed
on this cruise from Detroit, six months before, I had supposed he was
dead, and of course I wrote no letters to him.
I took up the second letter, expecting to read more of my father's
despair on account of my long silence. I opened it: it was bright and
cheerful as the first was gloomy and despondent. He had received my
"welcome letter of December 4th," which I had written at Jacksonville,
after the discovery of all the details of the conspiracy against me. I
had written a full account of the matter, with the history of the
voyage up to that date. It was after Colonel Shepard's house had been
damaged by fire, and the West India trip had been arranged. I had asked
him to write me at Jacksonville, but not to be alarmed if he did not
hear from me for some time, for I hardly knew where we were going. He
had been amazed at the contents of my letter. The clerk had confessed
all to him. I was entirely satisfied with the conclusion of the matter.
The rest of the letters were from my friends at the North.
CHAPTER XII.
SUGGESTIONS OF ANOTHER CONSPIRACY.
I felt like a beleaguered general who had just opened communication
with his reinforcements, when I again found myself holding intercourse,
even by letter, with my father. It seemed as though a new life had
begun for me. My father was happy, and so was I. He declared that he
should join me as soon as his business would allow him to leave
England; and that when he found me, as he should wherever I wandered,
he never would leave me again.
My father alluded at considerable length to "his best and truest
friend," Mr. Tiffany. He had written to him, and desired him to take an
interest in my affairs if he thought I needed any assistance, either
with money or counsel. This was a partial explanation of the conduct of
Mr. Tiffany; but he was a very strange man because he said nothing to
me about his instructions from my father.
Before I had finished reading the rest of my letters, Washburn came
into the room; but when he saw I was engaged, he began to retire. I
asked him to remain. He was my ever-faithful friend. He had fathomed
the conspiracy against me, and I valued his counsel more than that of
any other person. He had my fullest confidence, though he never sought
to know my business.
I related to him all the incidents of my visit to the city, including a
full account of my adventures with the Boomsbys and the other snake. I
need not say that he was intensely interested.
"That Boomsby ought to be hung!" he exclaimed, as soon as I had
finished my story.
"Perhaps not," I replied, giving the captain's explanation of the
presence of the snake in the closet.
"I should like to follow that lodger's history, if Captain Boomsby had
any such person in his house, which I do not believe," added the mate.
"When I go on shore I will try to find out whether or not he had any
lodger, and I think I can get at it."
"It is hardly worth the trouble," I replied.
"I think it is. For months we have been satisfied that this villain
means you harm; but we have never been able to prove anything," said
Washburn, with energy. "It is time to quit fooling with such matters.
If he did not mean to sink the Sylvania for your benefit, he never
meant anything in his life; but he explained it away, and everybody
that knows anything about it, except you and I, believes that the
accident was simply the result of his drunken condition on that
morning. It is time to prove some of these things."
"I have no objection to having them proved."
"I will spend all the time I have on shore in this business; and I
am--What was that?"
The mate suddenly jumped from his chair, and rushed out of the room by
the new door on the port side. I followed him.
"What are you doing at that window?" demanded Washburn, to a man he had
collared near the door of the engine-room, for he had pluck enough to
pick up a water moccasin, if the occasion required.
I could not make out the man in the darkness; and I did not quite
comprehend the reason for his sudden assault on him. All the windows of
our state-room were open, for the evening was warm.
"I wasn't doing anything, Mr. Washburn," pleaded the culprit, in whose
voice I recognized that of Griffin Leeds.
"You were standing under the open window of the captain's room!"
continued the mate, releasing his hold on the waiter when he found he
offered no resistance.
"No, sir; I wasn't standing there," replied Griffin, in a meeching
tone. "I got asleep on the fo'castle after you went in; and I just
waked up. I was just going below to turn in when you came out and got
hold of me. That's the whole of it, sir."
"If I ever catch you under an open window again, I will throw you
overboard. We don't have anything of that kind on board of this
steamer," said the mate, in a very decided tone.
Griffin went below to his quarters under the forecastle, and Washburn
followed me into the room. I thought he was a little rough on the new
waiter, who had given excellent satisfaction in the forward cabin. I
said as much as this to the mate.
"The rascal was listening under that window to the talk between you and
me," replied Washburn. "If you agree to have that thing done on board,
you are the captain, and I have nothing more to say about it."
"If you are satisfied that he was listening to us, you did just right.
But I move to amend by substituting his discharge for throwing him
overboard," I replied, laughing. "Do you think the fellow heard what we
were saying?"
"I have no doubt of it: he had been there for some time, for I heard a
slight noise at that window soon after I came in; and I am confident he
had been there ever since. I confess that I do not like the fellow very
much, for I have seen him skulking about the deck with a hang-dog look
which I don't admire. I have suspected him of something, though I don't
know what, since the first day he came on board. While I am in for it,
Alick, I might as well add that Cornwood is just such another fellow."
"Cornwood?" I asked, very much surprised, for I had not noticed
anything in either the Floridian or the waiter to attract my attention.
"I don't know anything about Cornwood; and I suppose you looked up his
record before you engaged him. At any rate, he acts like a snake, in my
way of thinking," added the mate, whom none could accuse of covering up
anything he believed or thought.
"I did inquire about him in St. Augustine: people thought well of his
knowledge and ability, though they agree that he is a brag and a
boaster."
"If there were nothing worse than that about him, I should only laugh.
But I think he is a snake."
"What makes you think so?"
"I don't know; I only know that I do think so."
"But you are not a fellow to think ill of anybody without some reason
for it."
"I have no reason, except his looks and actions," replied the mate. "I
make no charges against him, and I can prove nothing; but Cornwood is a
fellow that will bear watching."
"That is just what the Hon. Pardon Tiffany took the trouble to tell me
this afternoon," I added, relating the particulars of my interview with
that gentleman.
"I am glad there is some one besides myself who has an opinion on the
subject," said Washburn.
"Cornwood was in Captain Boomsby's rumhole when I came down stairs
after the row in the attic," I added, watching the face of my friend to
notice the effect of this announcement.
"That's the best place for him; only this fellow will do a piece of
treachery better than Boomsby can. Cornwood will not get drunk when he
has a heavy job of iniquity on his hands. Boomsby is a wolf: this
fellow is a snake. Cornwood reminds me of a kind of reptile they have
in these parts, called the small rattlesnake. He is a little fellow,
and you can't hear his rattle; but his bite will kill you as quick as
that of a five-footer. You can't see or hear him, and the first thing
you know you are a dead man. That's Cornwood's style, as I understand
him."
"You are rough on him. What you say of him, and what you have done to
Griffin, remind me that the two men seemed to have some connection
before we engaged either of them," I continued, thinking of the events
of that first day in St. Augustine. "Griffin brought off Cornwood in a
boat."
"And when you apply to Cornwood for a stewardess, Griffin's wife
appears to take the place. But I am bound to say I believe she is a
lady," added the mate.
"Then you think we are marching into hot water, do you, Washburn?" I
asked with interest.
"I don't say you are: I don't know that you are: only that we had
better keep our eyes wide open, as Mr. Tiffany suggests. But it does
look to me as though some sort of a storm is brewing."
"But where can the storm possibly come from?"
"From that rumhole in Bay Street which you visited this afternoon. I
have heard that Boomsby threatened a dozen times to be the destruction
of you. He says you have been the plague of his life; that you have
crossed and defeated him so many times that he will be the 'ruination'
of you yet. This is out of pure revenge. Besides this, he believes your
father is dead, and that, if he can get you out of the way, or bring
you into subjection to what he calls his authority, this steamer will
come into his possession. I know he is a fool; but he believes all this
nonsense."
"Then you mean to suggest--without being able to prove it--that
Cornwood is an agent of Captain Boomsby; and that Griffin Leeds is a
tool of Cornwood, sent on board to watch me, as well as to wait on the
fore-cabin table," I added, putting the various hints into words.
"I don't say it means anything; but that is what it means, if
anything," replied Washburn after some hesitation. "Nothing can be
proved; and we should not be justified in doing anything on mere
suspicion. All we have to do is to keep a close watch on Cornwood and
Griffin Leeds."
We agreed to do this, but in such a manner as not to alarm the
conspirators, if they were such. I told Washburn then that I had
letters from my father, and gave him both of them to read. While he was
thus engaged, I began a letter to my father.
"The last one is written in good spirits," said the mate, as he laid
the letters on my table. "But isn't it a little strange that you have
no letter of later date than last January from your father? I should
have supposed there would have been three or four more letters awaiting
you; I mean those he must have written in January."
"I think there is nothing strange about that," I replied; but my heart
sank within me at the very thought of any more doubts and
uncertainties. "I wrote him that the Sylvania was bound to the Bahamas;
but I had no idea where we should go next, or how long we should remain
at any place to which we might go. I said we expected to return to
Jacksonville in February."
"That explains the matter. You did not show me your letter to him,"
replied the mate. "But we are several days into March, and you ought to
hear from your father again very soon."
"I shall expect a letter from him every day until I get one. I don't
believe anything more can happen to him or me, for we have had our full
share of mishaps."
The mate was turning in for the night, when Buck Lingley brought me a
note from Owen, which had just been sent off by a boatman. My cousin
had arranged for an excursion to Fort George Island, near the mouth of
the St. Johns River, for the next day at ten, if the weather was
favorable. He expected about thirty people, and wanted dinner for them.
I told Buck to carry the letter to the steward, that he might make his
purchases of provisions early in the morning. It was one o'clock when I
turned in, after finishing a twelve-page letter to my father.
CHAPTER XIII.
MR. COBBINGTON AND HIS PET RATTLESNAKE.
I turned out the next morning, or rather the same morning, only in
season for breakfast. I had put my letter in the mail-box, and it had
gone ashore in the first boat at four o'clock. I kept an anchor watch
all night in port, which was divided up amongst all hands in the
sailing and engineer's department, except myself. Word had been passed
from watch to watch to call the steward and a boat's crew at half past
three. The boats were hoisted up to the davits at night, and it
required some time to get one into the water.
When I went in to breakfast, I found that Washburn had gone ashore in
the steward's boat, and had not yet returned. He was the only person on
board, besides myself, who had liberty to leave the vessel without my
permission, or his, if I was not on board. But the steamer had been put
in perfect order the day before, and she never was in better condition
than when I looked her over after breakfast. The day was bright and
clear, as nearly all the days were in Florida. Every officer and seaman
had put on his best uniform, and we were in "show" order, above and
below decks.
The American flag was flying at the peak, and, in honor of the English
guests who were to come on board, I had hoisted the British flag at the
fore. Both boats' crews were in readiness to bring off the party as
soon as they appeared on the Market Wharf. About nine o'clock we got a
signal from that locality, but there was no party there, and the signal
came from the mate.
"You went off early, Washburn," I said, as he came up the gangway
steps.
"I was afraid the matter would get cold if I waited," replied the mate,
who seemed to be in excellent humor.
"What matter is that?" I inquired.
"I went ashore to look up that snaky lodger of Captain Boomsby's,"
answered Washburn. "There was certainly a lodger there, who furnished
his own room, and stayed about two weeks."
"Did he furnish his room for a stay of only two weeks?" I inquired.
"I have not been able to find the person yet. He had his furniture
carried to an auction-room, where it was sold."
"How did you learn all this?"
"I found Boomsby's saloon first. About five o'clock the porter of the
store next to it began to sweep off the sidewalk. I saw that my uniform
took his eye, and he was as polite to me as though I had been an
admiral in the United States Navy. I talked with him awhile, asking him
questions about the city. Finally I brought the matter of the
conversation down to the subject of saloons. I thought there were
plenty of them. He told me some of them had a separate bar for colored
people, where they sold the cheapest corn whiskey and apple brandy for
ten cents a glass, and made nine cents on every glass they sold."
"That's just the business for Captain Boomsby: it is just mean enough
for him," I added.
"The porter spoke of the Boomsby saloon as a new one opened a few weeks
before. The keeper had a bar for colored customers in a back room, with
an entrance from the lane in the rear. When he said this, I began to
pump him in regard to Boomsby. I finally asked if the captain took
boarders or lodgers. He had one; but this one had had a quarrel with
the saloonist's wife, and had left. He did not know his name, or where
he went to. He said the cartman that stood at the next corner had
carted off his furniture."
"Then you went for the cartman," I suggested.
"I went for him; but I could not find him for some time, and that is
what made me so late," continued Washburn. "The porter told me he was
hauling baggage from the Charleston steamer, which had just got in, to
the Carlton Hotel. His name was Jackman, and it was on his wagon. I
found the cartman, but he was so busy I had no chance to speak to him
until half past eight. I took my breakfast at the Carlton, which is
kept by Maine people. I introduced myself to one of the proprietors;
and of course they knew my father. I told him I had been waiting a long
time to speak to Jackman. He immediately called him into the office.
"Thus introduced to Jackman, he was willing to tell me all he knew on
any subject. He said he had carried the furniture of the lodger to an
auction-room, and his trunks and other things to the St. Johns House.
The lodger's name was Cobbington; and Jackman thought he was poor."
"He must have been, to take a room at Captain Boomsby's house."
"I asked Jackman what things besides the trunks he had carried to the
St. Johns Hotel. He replied that Cobbington had a pet rattlesnake and a
box of alligators."
"All this goes to confirm Captain Boomsby's explanation," I added.
"I think it has a tendency that way. I asked Jackman if the lodger had
any other snakes; but he knew of no others, and had seen none in the
attic rooms from which he took his load. I went next to the St. Johns
House, which is kept by a lady. She gave me all the information she
could. Mr. Cobbington's rattlesnake had got out of his box, and had
been killed by one of the boarders. He was so angry at the loss of the
reptile that he left the house at once. The landlady did not know where
he had gone. Under the circumstances, she had not taken the pains to
inquire. She did not want any gentleman in her house who kept a
rattlesnake in his chamber; and I was of just her way of thinking. She
did not remember what cartman had conveyed his baggage from the house.
If I had had an hour more, I think I could have found the man; for the
landlady gave me the day on which he left."
"I don't think it will be of much use to follow the matter any
further," I suggested. "This story makes it probable that Cobbington
had other snakes."
"It may make it possible, but not probable. It is only a matter of
fact, and I am going to get to the bottom of it if I can," persisted
the mate.
"I beg pardon, Mr. Washburn, but your breakfast is waiting for you,"
said Griffin Leeds, stepping up to the mate at this moment.
I started when I heard the silky voice of the octoroon. I had heard no
step to indicate his approach, and I feared that he had listened to
something one of us had said.
"I have been to breakfast," replied the mate, rather savagely for him;
and I saw that he had the same fear.
The waiter hastened back to the forward cabin, where he belonged.
Washburn called to Ben Bowman, who was standing at the door of the
engine-room, and asked him how long Griffin had stood behind us. The
assistant engineer thought he had been there two or three minutes, at
least, waiting for a chance to speak to one of us. I was vexed at the
circumstance. If Cornwood was the agent of Captain Boomsby, and Griffin
Leeds was the tool of the Floridian, our conversation would all be
reported to the principal in the conspiracy, always granting there was
any truth in our surmises.
"I suppose we shall get back from this excursion some time to-night,"
said Washburn, thoughtfully.
"I think we shall get back before dark," I replied.
"I don't say there is anything in what we were talking about last
night, but there may be. If there is anything in it, Cornwood will tell
Boomsby, after we return, what we have been talking about," replied the
mate.
"Griffin will find a chance to tell Cornwood that you have been looking
up the lodger, and Cornwood will carry it to Boomsby," I repeated.
"Just so. Now, we must fix things a little. Don't let Cornwood go on
shore to-night."
"How can I keep him? He is hardly like the other members of the ship's
company."
"You can need him for some purpose or other," suggested the mate, with
a smile. "We must fight them with their own weapons."
"I was thinking to-day that I wanted to lay out the trip up the river
with him. I bought a large pocket-map of Florida to-day, so that I
could do it understandingly, though where we go will depend largely on
the will and pleasure of our passengers. I can keep him for this
purpose," I said.
"All right; and I will go ashore as soon as the mudhook touches the
sand on our return," added Washburn. "There are several carriages
coming down Market Wharf."
Both boats were sent to the wharf, and Washburn went off in one of them
to superintend the seating of the party in them. All our extra stools
and chairs had been arranged on the quarter-deck, forecastle, and
hurricane-deck. There were enough of them for twice the number of
persons expected, but no one could tell where the party would choose to
sit, and there were enough to accommodate them in any one place they
might select. Gopher was hard at work getting ready for the dinner, and
Ben was expected to help him as soon as the party were on board.
I stood at the gangway, ready to receive the guests. Suddenly a band on
the wharf struck up a lively air, and I found we were not to depend
upon our own people for the music. The port boat came up first; and our
boatmen were so much accustomed to this kind of duty, that they put the
passengers on board without delay or inconvenience to them. There were
six boat-loads, including the band of twelve pieces. The boats were
hoisted up, and the anchor weighed by our steam windlass.
I had been introduced to all the excursionists as they came on board,
and I had directed the waiters to show them to such parts of the vessel
as they might select. When I went to the pilot-house, I found the seats
all occupied by Owen and certain ladies he had invited there. As usual
they were all the youngest and prettiest of the party. Cornwood stood
at the wheel, as though he had chosen the duty he intended to perform.
I had not procured a pilot, for I had been up and down the river five
times, and I thought I knew enough about it to pilot the vessel myself.
But I wished to test Cornwood's ability, and I told him to go ahead,
giving him no further instructions.
He rang the bells correctly, and handled the wheel like an old salt. I
was rather disappointed to find that he understood his business
perfectly. His brag was not all brag. I had become considerably
prejudiced against him by all that had been said; but I felt that I
could do him justice. The scenery below the city is very pleasant, to
say the least. The orange groves, and the dwellings, many of them
occupied by people from the North, either as settlers or as winter
residents, made a picturesque view from the river. Cornwood did not
seem to be wholly occupied with the wheel, for he explained the nature
of the country when he found that the party in the pilot-house were
willing to listen to him. The herons, cranes, and many other birds were
new to us.
"Mayport on the starboard hand," said the guide, when we had reached
the mouth of the river. "The houses in that village are mostly occupied
by fishermen, who catch shad and other fish in the winter and spring,
and a good many southern people spend the summer here in cottages."
Cornwood directed the head of the steamer towards the other shore, and
soon brought her to a pier at Pilot Town.
CHAPTER XIV.
THE EXCURSION TO FORT GEORGE ISLAND.
Fort George Island is certainly a beautiful place for a summer or a
winter residence, or for both. It is three and a half miles long, not
including the sand-bar at the end, and a mile wide. On one side is the
ocean, and on the other the Sisters' Channel, one of the inside
passages by which steamers reach Savannah and Fernandina.
Owen told me the party would sail for Jacksonville at four o'clock, and
dine as soon as the steamer was under way. All the excursionists
landed, and leaving Washburn in charge, I went with them. Cornwood
began to discharge his duties as guide as soon as we were on shore; but
a considerable portion of the party were familiar with the island, and
he did not have a large audience.
"This shell road," said he, as we left the wharf, "is the beginning of
Edgewood Avenue, which is two miles and a half long. At the farther end
of it is the hotel."
He continued his explanations to those who desired to hear them during
the entire walk. I shall not repeat them. I found that he could give
the name of every tree, plant, and flower we saw on the way. He had a
name for every bird, bug, and worm; and I am ready to acknowledge that
the extent, variety, and minuteness of his knowledge astonished me,
partly because my prejudice led me to expect nothing of him. That those
who brag most know least, did not appear to prove true in his case; for
he did not have to "give it up" on any question asked him by the
tourists of our party. He related the history of the island, and there
was not a single particular concerning it on which he was not fully
informed.
After crossing the beach on the shell road, we came to the forest of
live-oaks, magnolias, palmettos, bay-trees, and others that one never
sees in Maine or Michigan. I walked with Mr. Tiffany, and we agreed
that this was one of the most delightful places we had visited. Pretty
soon we were joined by Miss Margie and Miss Edith, who had become
inseparable friends and companions. I learned that the Tiffanys had
already accepted the invitation of Owen and Colonel Shepard to join the
party for the up-river trip.
"Are there no snakes on this island, Captain Garningham?" asked Miss
Margie, soon after we entered the wood.
"I dare say there are; but I don't know anything about it," I replied.
"Undoubtedly there are snakes on the island," interposed Mr. Cornwood;
and I saw that he glanced at me, with a smile, as if in allusion to my
experience on the evening before.
"I am very much afraid of snakes," said Miss Margie, looking timidly
about her.
"But the snakes are more afraid of you than you are of them, Miss
Tiffany," replied Cornwood. "Even the rattlesnake will keep out of your
way, if he can."
"And I should surely keep out of his way. Are there rattlesnakes on
this island?" asked the timid English maiden.
"I am sorry to say there are; but you might live on the island ten
years and never see one. When you walk, you will naturally keep in the
paths cut through the woods. Rattlesnakes will not visit these
localities. But the rattlesnake is a very gentlemanly fellow; and if by
any chance one should stray into a path, he would give you abundant
warning before he did you any harm."
"I don't wish to see one," replied Miss Margie, with a shudder.
"You may be sure you will not meet any in the paths we take to-day,"
added the guide in a comforting tone. "But I would rather meet a dozen
of them than step upon a copperhead or a water-moccasin. These will run
away when they see you, if they can. The water-moccasin will not
trouble you if you let him alone. The only danger from any Florida
snake is in coming upon him when you don't see him."
"That is just what I am afraid of," said Miss Margie.
"This island has been settled so long that there can be but few snakes
of the harmful kind left on it; for whites and blacks always kill them
at sight."
After a very pleasant walk we reached the hotel, where a lunch was
ready for us. To me the principal feature of this lunch was the broiled
shad, the fish just taken from the water. It was the freshest and best
I had ever eaten. The oysters in the chowder were small, but had been
taken from the water that morning.
After the lunch the excursionists broke up into little parties, and
each went where they were best pleased to go. I felt rather inclined to
go where Miss Margie went, for I had found she was as agreeable as she
was pretty. Owen and the Shepards went to the Palmetto Avenue, which
leads to an ancient homestead, affording a fair specimen of the
planter's home in days gone by. Mr. Tiffany and his daughter wished to
ascend Mount Cornelia, to which there was a carriage-road all the way
from the hotel to the summit. This hill has an elevation of ninety-five
feet, the highest point on the coast from Navesink and Cuba. Mr.
Cornwood accompanied us, for, in spite of the warning Mr. Tiffany had
given me, he was the guide's most attentive listener.
On the summit of the hill we found an observatory, which we occupied
for a full hour. It commanded a fine view of the ocean, the inland
channels, and the country beyond them. Before we left, Owen and the
Shepards joined us.
"Have you seen any snakes, Margie?" asked Edith, when they were seated
at the top of the observatory.
"I have not seen one; indeed, I have not thought of the snakes since
Mr. Cornwood assured me we should see none," replied Miss Margie.
"I rather like snakes, and I hoped I should see some," added Miss
Edith, very bravely.
"I think I could find some for you, Miss Edith," interposed Cornwood.
"No, I thank you. I don't care to go snaking. When I see one I wish to
have it without any effort on my part," replied the beautiful girl.
"That is a nice way to get out of it," added Miss Margie. "I believe I
should faint away if I came upon one, without any effort on my part."
"You will be likely to see some on your trip up the river, if you go on
shore. The largest moccasin I ever saw I killed within the limits of
the city of Jacksonville. It was on the way to Moncrief's Spring. Are
you fond of alligators?" asked Mr. Cornwood, who also seemed to regard
the English girl with much favor.
"I never saw one in my life," answered Miss Margie. "We don't have any
such creatures in England. But I have seen pictures of the crocodile,
which I dare say is the same thing."
"They are certainly the same sort of reptile, though a crocodile is not
an alligator any more than an alligator is a crocodile. They differ in
the shape of the head; the lower canine teeth of the crocodile fit into
notches between the teeth of the upper jaw, while the alligator's lower
teeth fit into cavities in the upper jaw. The alligator has a broader
and shorter head than the crocodile. The cayman, found in the East
Indies and in tropical South America, is different in some respects
from either. But we have both crocodiles and alligators in the more
southern of the United States."
"I am sure I don't care whether they are crocodiles or alligators; they
are ugly-looking beasts, and I don't want to see any of them," replied
Miss Margie.
Mr. Cornwood had evidently "studied up" on alligators; and I was quite
interested in his comparison of the different reptiles, for I had
supposed they were all alike.
"You can't very well help seeing them when you go up the river, for
some of the streams we shall doubtless explore are full of them," added
the Floridian.
"Are you not afraid of them?"
"I don't think I ever saw anybody who was afraid of an alligator; they
are too common here to alarm any person. But I am surprised that you
did not see any alligators in Jacksonville, for thousands of little
ones are kept for sale at the curiosity stores, and larger ones are
kept for exhibition."
"I didn't happen to see any of them. Are they not dangerous?"
"We do not consider them so. In the earlier days of the State, when
alligators eighteen feet in length were occasionally found, they may
have attacked men when they caught them in the water. On land they are
rather sluggish; but they are right smart in the water. The largest
ones we are likely to see will not be over twelve feet long; and you
will find ten little ones to one of this size. None of them will meddle
even with a child; though if you should lie on the edge of a boat, with
a hand or foot in the water, and went to sleep, they might snap at it."
"Ugh!" gasped the pretty maiden, with a shudder.
"You will be so much accustomed to them in a week after we start up the
river, that you will not mind them more than you do the flies, and not
half so much as you do the mosquitoes," added Mr. Cornwood.
"Are there many mosquitoes where we are going, Mr. Cornwood?" asked Mr.
Tiffany.
"Not many at this season of the year, though we may fall into
localities where they are very plenty. I shall take the liberty to
suggest to Captain Garningham to have a quantity of mosquito netting on
board, to provide against these pests," replied the Floridian, glancing
from the Englishman to me.
"I will tell the steward to see that the beds and berths are properly
protected," I added, glad to have the suggestion in season to save the
passengers from annoyance.
Owen and Miss Edith had not paid any attention to Mr. Cornwood's
lessons in natural history. Both of them had evidently voted the
Floridian a bore. My cousin thought it was time to return to the hotel,
where the band was playing for the benefit of the people.
All the party had collected there, and we soon started for the steamer.
The band went ahead and played a march, and we kept step to the music.
I found that Mr. Cornwood had again attached himself to Miss Margie, to
the plain annoyance of that lady's father. I called him away, and
dropping to the rear of the procession, I questioned him in regard to
the trip up the river. He clearly understood my object in asking these
questions at this time, and his answers were crusty, and his manner
sulky. I persisted in torturing him till we reached the steamer, though
I sacrificed my own pleasure in doing it for Miss Margie's benefit.
It was just four by the clock in the pilot-house when the Sylvania
sailed on her return. The dinner was served in the cabin, and Gopher
had done his best, as usual. At six Cornwood made a very good landing
at the Market Wharf, and our guests departed immediately. I had to
thank Washburn for doing one-half of the hand-shaking when they stepped
ashore. Cornwood thought he would remain in the city, but I told him I
wanted him on board. The mate did not go to the anchorage in the
steamer, but stayed ashore.
CHAPTER XV.
A WAR OF WORDS.
Washburn had reported to me that, while I was dining with the
passengers in the cabin, Griffin Leeds had gone into the pilot-house
and had a short interview with Cornwood. Of course we used the octoroon
as a waiter; and even Gopher took a hand at the same occupation, for he
liked to hear what the party said about the dinner. Griffin must have
taken the time while the waiters were clearing the tables for the last
course, or while the gentlemen were amusing themselves with the
American custom of making speeches. In either case, it was almost a sin
for a waiter to leave his post.
Cornwood was sulky when I said I wanted him. Doubtless he had business
on shore, as I had for him on board. I paid him five dollars a day and
expenses; and I thought I had the best right to his services.
"Mr. Cornwood, I desire to have you map out a practicable trip up the
river for a steamer that draws nine feet of water, with her bunkers
full of coal," I began, as I seated myself in my room.
The words were hardly out of my mouth when Hop Tossford came in with a
message written on an old envelope, from Owen.
"Come to the Colonel's house at once.
OWEN."
"At once" meant immediately; and I was not a little annoyed by the
summons, since it prevented me from carrying out my part of Washburn's
little plan.
"I have the cruise all mapped out, Captain Garningham," replied
Cornwood, while I was reading the message from my cousin.
He took from his breast-pocket a document, which he handed to me with a
stiff bow. On opening it, I found it was a carefully prepared outline
of the proposed cruise up the river, with detours in various bays and
smaller streams.
"I will examine this at my leisure; for I am called to the house of
Colonel Shepard by Mr. Garningham," I continued. "Very likely he
desires to give me instructions in regard to the up-river trip. If he
does, I wish to see you as soon as I return; and I may not be gone more
than an hour."
Cornwood made no reply; but I saw that he was biting his lip. My
request was equivalent to an order to remain on board, and he was not
exactly in position to set my wishes at defiance. I went ashore as soon
as a boat could be dropped into the water, and hastened to the house of
the Colonel. Owen said he was very glad to see me; and from the
excitement of his manner, I judged that something was in the wind.
"To-morrow will be Saturday," said he, walking up and down the parlor
where I had seated myself. "The same party we had to-day, including the
Silver Cornet Band, will make a little run up the river, and stop for a
while at Mrs. Mitchell's place, if it is practicable, with a dinner at
four o'clock."
"It is not practicable----"
"It is not practicable!" exclaimed Owen, stopping in front of me.
"You did not hear me out, my dear charterer of the Sylvania," I
replied, amused at the sudden check put upon his enthusiasm. "It is not
practicable to run the steamer up to the pier at Mrs. Mitchell's place;
but we can land the passengers in the boats. Of course we can go up the
river as far as Pilatka, and perhaps farther."
"We don't want to go up to--what's that place you mentioned? I have
heard of it before, and it is forty or fifty miles up," added Owen, who
had been too busy looking after Miss Edith to pay any attention to the
geography of the State.
"The place is Pilatka; and it is seventy-five miles up."
"It would take all day to go to Pilatka; besides, I don't wish to spoil
all the fun of the trip we are to take next week. There's a Chinese
town or city, where Mrs. What's-her-name lives, about a dozen miles
up," continued my cousin.
"A Chinese town? There are no Chinamen of any consequence in Florida."
"No, no! A town with a Chinese name, where the lady that wrote _Uncle
Tom's Cabin_ lives," interposed Owen impatiently.
"Mandarin," I added, after I had consulted a pamphlet guide I had
picked up in one of the hotels. "It is fifteen miles from here."
"That's the place; and it is just the right distance!" exclaimed Owen.
"We will go to Mandarin. By the way, you must have a lunch on board
about twelve."
"All this is quite practicable."
"And why can't you take the steamer up to the pier at Mrs. Mitchell's
place?" demanded my passenger.
"Because the bottom is too near the top of the water," I replied,
laughing at the puzzled expression on my cousin's face.
"Couldn't you have the bottom put farther down for this occasion?" he
inquired very seriously.
"Certainly, if you are willing to pay the bills and to wait long enough
for the work to be done."
"I don't object to the bills, but we can't wait."
"I see that you have become quite an American traveller; you don't
dispute any bills, and you can't wait."
"I can't wait to have a channel dredged out up to that pier, for very
likely it would take all day to do it."
"It would take you Britishers three months to do it; Americans would do
it in a week."
"I think my uncle, your father, is a Britisher. But I have no time to
quarrel with you about that matter now; it will keep. We will be landed
at the pier in boats, since you are not willing to accommodate us in
any other manner."
"I will arrange the landing so that it shall be satisfactory," I added,
thinking of a large barge I had seen at the boat-wharf.
"Then we are all right for to-morrow, are we, Alick?" asked my
facetious cousin.
"All right. Whenever you tell me what you want, it shall be done."
"But just now you objected to taking your steamer up to that pier."
"I should have qualified the declaration----"
"Merciful Hotandsplosh!"
"Is that man your idol?"
"You take my breath away with your stunning long words!"
"I won't take your breath away, for you will want it all. I will do all
you want when I can," I added.
"How much prettier that sounds than 'qualified the declaration.'"
"I see that I must write out all my speeches in words of not more than
four letters, so as to bring them down to the dull brain of a Briton."
"The dull brain of a Briton is good."
"So your friend Hotandsplosh would say."
"I will introduce him to you some time."
"I don't want to know him; he is too slow for me."
"Come, come, Alick; we are quarrelling when we have business to do,"
said Owen, shaking his shoulders like a vexed child.
"You are quarrelling; I am not. You pick me up on my language as though
you were my schoolmaster, and then complain that I am impeding the
business of the conference."
"Cut it short! 'Impeding the business of the conference!' That jaw of
yours will need to be patched up by a dentist, man!"
"Your jaw does all the mischief; and you are at it again, with your
pedagogical----"
"Cut it short! What a word! A young man of high aims ought not to use
such a word; and anybody else ought to be hung for it!"
"Still at it!"
"I wish to say something about the run up the river," continued Owen,
who was very fond of criticising my language, and would even neglect
important business to do it.
"Say it, then."
"Where do we go?"
"Wherever you say."
"Merciful Hotandsplosh! Am I to study up the geography of this State,
so as to tell you where to go?" demanded my passenger.
"I will select a route, in consultation----"
"Oh dear!" gasped Owen, throwing himself at full length on a sofa, with
his legs hanging over one end of it, as though he were in utter
despair.
"I will talk with K-u-r-n-e-l, Colonel, S-h-e-p-a-r-d, Shepard, a-bout
the r-o-u-t-e, route."
"Good! Shove it off on the Colonel!" exclaimed Owen. "I know what you
say now; and I feel better."
"Perhaps you would like to know where it is possible for us to go," I
continued, taking Cornwood's paper from my pocket as Owen sprang to his
feet. "Here are some suggestions in regard to where we may go; it was
made up by our guide;" and I handed him the paper, which he opened to
the fold of the sheet, and turned it over and over.
"Merciful Grand Panjandrum!"
"Another friend of yours!"
"I got him out of an American book; and that accounts for it! Am I to
read all this? _Tempus fugit_. _Let it fugit_! I should have to be
buried in the blue sands of Florida if I read all this;" and he turned
it over several times more.
"You would have to be buried in thought for a short time if you read
it."
"Let me see, what did you call what's in this paper? Suggestions, was
it? If these are only suggestions, what must the real thing be! No, no,
Alick! Go where you please; but don't ask me to read that paper. Only
give us some shooting and fishing. Don't bother me with any more
suggestions."
"You sent for me, and I came."
"I know you did. You are a young lamb, Alick. Now go and put it to the
Colonel and Tiffany."
Presently Colonel Shepard's party came into the parlor. They had just
arrived at the house, for they had stopped to see some alligators, and
to buy Gulf beans and alligator's teeth, ornamented, for watch-charms
and other wear. Miss Margie had seen an alligator six feet long, and
thought he was very terrible. The baby reptiles she considered "very
cunning little pets."
I proceeded at once to talk with Colonel Shepard about the up-river
trip. He looked the paper over, but he and Mr. Tiffany were almost as
much perplexed over it as Owen had been.
"We must go up the St. Johns to Enterprise, at least, and up the
Ocklawaha to Lake Griffin," said the Colonel.
"But the Sylvania draws too much water to go far beyond Pilatka. After
we get the anthracite coal out of the bunkers we shall carry up eight
feet," I replied.
"Carry up eight feet! You have only two to carry, and an alligator may
bite off one of them," shouted Owen, who it seemed had been listening
to me, instead of giving attention to Miss Edith's charms, about which
she was talking.
"Give heed to my charms, Mr. Garningham!" said Miss Edith.
"That's just what I have done since I first saw you!" exclaimed Owen.
I promised to consult the Floridian, and took my leave.
CHAPTER XVI.
GRIFFIN LEEDS AT A DISCOUNT.
I did not expect that Mr. Cornwood would come on shore after what had
passed between him and me, and I did not hurry on board when I left the
house of Colonel Shepard. I passed from St. James Square down Laura
Street, into Forsyth, on which the St. Johns House was situated. I
passed the house several times, looking for Washburn, for I desired to
know what success he had had in looking up Mr. Cobbington. I saw
nothing of the mate, and I went into Bay Street, only a square from
Forsyth.
I looked in every direction for Washburn, but I could not find him, and
I was obliged to give up the search. I found my boat's crew on the
wharf, watching some negroes opening oysters. It was done in a very
clumsy manner, compared with the work of a Providence opener I had seen
in New York; and my men were not at all satisfied with the manner it
was done, though they had no interest in the job.
"Have you seen Mr. Washburn, Ben?" I asked, as we walked down the
wharf.
"Yes, sir; we put him on board half an hour ago," replied the assistant
engineer, who preferred to pull a boat rather than be idle.
"That was why I could not find him in the streets of Jacksonville," I
added. "Has any one come off from the steamer since I came ashore?"
"No, sir, not a soul," answered Ben, decidedly.
I was glad to hear this, for it assured me that Cornwood had not left
the steamer. The Sylvania was anchored on the other side of the main
channel, which was near the line of wharves, but not more than a
quarter of a mile distant. In a few minutes I was on board. The mate
was at supper; and as I had dined within a couple of hours, I did not
disturb him. I went to the steward, and gave him directions in regard
to the lunch and dinner for the next day. Cornwood was smoking his
cigar on the forecastle. I took the precaution to tell him that I
wanted to see him in about half an hour or less, that he might not come
into my room while I was engaged with Washburn.
I had done some thinking over the matter of eavesdroppers on board. I
came to the conclusion that I would have nothing of the kind on board.
I had entire confidence in the two engineers, one of whom was the son
of my guardian in Montomercy, and the other had sailed with me since
the Sylvania had come into my possession. Moses Brickland, the chief,
was lying on a sofa in the engine-room. I called Ben, and told them
both enough to enable them to understand the situation, and that some
of the later additions to our ship's company might be eavesdroppers. I
asked them to keep an eye on the open windows of my state-room, and let
me know if there were any skulking or loitering near them. Moses seated
himself at one door of the engine-room, and Ben at the other. They were
on deck, next to the rail, where they could see the windows of my room.
There was a skylight in the hurricane-deck overhead, which was always
open in this climate when it did not rain. I said nothing about this
opening, because I could hear any person's footsteps on the deck over
me.
Washburn came on deck soon after I had made this little arrangement. We
went into our room by mutual consent, for one had something to say, and
the other wanted to hear it. I explained to him what I had done to trap
any listener who might want to know what we said. He replied that he
had thought of doing something of the kind himself; but he did not care
to throw suspicion even upon Griffin Leeds by telling others the true
story.
"Well, Washburn, did you find your man?" I asked.
"I am sorry to say I did not," he replied. "But I found where he
boarded; and was told he was out, and would not return before nine or
ten in the evening. I shall try again early in the morning, before he
goes out for the day, for he takes only his breakfast at the house
where he lodges."
"Where does he lodge?" I inquired.
Washburn gave me the street and number. It was not in the best part of
the city by any means; and the mate inferred that he was not connected
with the "first families." But he was none the worse for this. His
landlord knew nothing about him, and had made him pay a week's board in
advance.
We continued to talk about Cobbington for some time; but we were none
the wiser when we got through than when we began. Suddenly we heard a
tremendous scuffling overhead. It sounded as though two men or more
were engaged in a severe conflict. After the first onslaught was over,
the voices of two angry men were heard; and one of them was that of Ben
Bowman. Both Washburn and I rushed out of the state-room, he at one
door, and I at the other.
When we were able to see the combatants, they were found to be Ben
Bowman and Griffin Leeds. Ben had by this time proved that he was the
more powerful and efficient of the two, for the octoroon had been
pinned, as it were, to the deck, so that he was unable to do anything
but kick. The assistant engineer had him by the throat, and the
listener's attempts to speak resulted in nothing but a hoarse, choking
sound, which it was painful to hear. Griffin's strength was rapidly
failing him under the severe treatment of the engineer.
[Illustration: GRIFFIN LEEDS AT A DISCOUNT. Page 167.]
In another minute, all hands were climbing the ladder to the
hurricane-deck. I noticed that Cornwood came up from the forecastle
over the top of the pilot-house, which I had forbidden any one on board
to do, at the beginning of the voyage, to prevent injury to the paint.
I concluded that Griffin had come up in the same way. The occasion of
the strife was plain enough to me as soon as I discovered who were
engaged in it. I felt a little cheap after all the precautions I had
taken to prevent being overheard.
"Let him up, Ben," I said, when I thought he had done enough.
The engineer at once relinquished his hold on the octoroon, and stood
up. But Griffin did not appear to be able to get up yet. Both of the
men were gasping for breath, and neither of them was able to speak for
some minutes. As the waiter lay on the deck, I noticed that he wore no
shoes, though he had on a pair of woollen socks. I looked about for his
shoes. I had not seen Griffin before since I came on board.
"It is plain enough what this affair means," I said to the mate, while
we were waiting for Ben to get his breath, and to be able to explain
what the occasion of the conflict was.
"It don't need a very long-headed man to explain it," replied the mate.
"Griffin has been at the old trick again."
"What is the old trick, Mr. Mate?" demanded Cornwood, rather
offensively.
"If you are a sailor, you will call me by my name," replied Washburn,
with dignity.
"Excuse me, Mr. Washburn; but I am somewhat interested in one of the
parties to this row," added Cornwood, as he glanced at me. "I meant no
offence, but I was a little excited by the circumstances. I brought
this man on board, and I am anxious to have him do his duty
faithfully," answered Cornwood, with what seemed to me to be affected
humility, for his eye still flashed, and he was evidently struggling to
be calm. "Will you be kind enough to tell me, Mr. Washburn, what the
old trick was?"
"Eavesdropping; listening to conversation not intended for him, which
was going on in the captain's room," replied the mate, rather warmly.
"It is very strange to me, for I have known the boy for years, and I
never heard any of his employers find fault with him before," added
Cornwood. "I don't believe there is a better behaved boy in the State
than Griffin Leeds. Excuse me for saying so much, which I should not
have said if I had not brought the boy on board and recommended him to
you."
I had no fault to find with his statement, as long as it was
respectful. By this time Ben had got his wind again, and appeared to be
ready to explain the reason for the conflict which had created such a
sensation on board. All hands were on deck, gathered around the
combatants. I was satisfied from the beginning that Ben had not begun
the fight, for this was the first time I had ever known him to resort
to violence, except when he had been ordered to do so by the mate in
two instances, both of them being the expulsion from the vessel of
Captain Boomsby.
"Well, how was it, Mr. Bowman?" I asked, calling him by his last name
with a handle to it, as I always did in the presence of the ship's
company.
"A few minutes before I came upon the hurricane-deck, sir, I thought
there was something like motion forward of the foremast. I stood up,
but I could not see anything or anybody. But I could not get it out of
my head that something was going on there. I spoke to Mr. Brickland
about it, and he told me to go up and see what it was."
"Where was Mr. Brickland at that time?" demanded Cornwood.
"Mr. Bowman is answering my question, Mr. Cornwood, and you will not
interfere," I interposed, for the Floridian appeared to have taken upon
himself the duty of counsel for the octoroon.
"I beg your pardon, captain," replied Cornwood with a deferential bow.
"I went to the ladder on the starboard side, and mounted to this deck.
As soon as I got up here, I saw Griffin lying flat on his face, with
his right ear at the opening under the sash of the skylight. I slipped
off my shoes, and crept as lightly as I could to the place where
Griffin lay. I had no idea of attacking him, and only intended to see
what he was doing there. As soon as I was satisfied that he was
listening to the conversation between you and Mr. Washburn, which I
could hear, though I could not tell what you said, I just touched him
on the shoulder. I meant to beckon him to come away from the skylight,
but he did not give me time to do that. He sprang to his feet, and we
all know he is a spry fellow, and pitched into me as though I had tried
to murder him."
"You lie!" yelled the octoroon, with a savage oath. "You did try to
murder me!"
Griffin leaped from his recumbent position, and, foaming with rage,
drew a bowie-knife from his pocket, the long blade of which he threw
open with a jerk of his hand. With the knife gleaming in the air, he
rushed upon Ben Bowman. He would surely have plunged the blade into his
intended victim, if Buck Lingley had not darted upon him as soon as he
saw the knife. The deckhand was the stoutest person on board, and he
bore the octoroon to the deck in an instant, and wrenched the knife
from his grasp.
"Hold on to him a moment, Buck!" I called to him. "Get some line, and
tie him hand and foot!"
Hop Tossford sprang to obey my order. He seized the end of a
heave-line, and while Buck drew the arms of the waiter behind him, he
secured them in this position with the assistance of the mate. This
line was only for temporary use; and Hop soon brought a handful of
pieces of whale-line from the store-room, and the prisoner was
carefully secured. The octoroon struggled to escape, but the mate and
Buck held him tight.
"Drop the starboard boat into the water," I continued. "Mr. Washburn,
you will deliver him to the police of the city."
CHAPTER XVII.
POOR GRIFF AND HIS COUNSEL.
"Surely, Captain Garningham, you cannot mean to hand the man over to
the police for getting into a common brawl," said Cornwood, when I had
given my order.
"We don't allow brawls on board this steamer. This is the first one
that ever occurred on the decks of this vessel," I replied, debating in
my own mind whether or not I should discharge the Floridian, who seemed
to be the real culprit, though of course I could not prove that he was
the octoroon's principal in the business of eavesdropping.
"But this was simply a misunderstanding between the men; and both of
them will be as good friends as ever before morning," pleaded Cornwood.
"Mr. Bowman intended to do the boy no harm when he seized hold of him;
and poor Griff thought he intended to kill him."
"That's just what I thought," replied the octoroon, who had entirely
cooled off.
"But I didn't seize hold of him, as the gentleman says," interposed Ben
Bowman. "I did not lay the weight of one hand on him; I only just
touched him, as I said before; and I don't want anybody to say I seized
hold of him. I didn't do anything of the sort."
"I lay down there and went to sleep, for I have had to work hard
to-day. I lay in a hard position, and I suppose it was that which made
me dream that somebody had struck me on the head, and was trying to
murder me," Griffin explained, in the most humble tones. "I woke, and
seeing a man bending over me, I thought the dream was a reality."
"Were you dreaming when you drew the knife, at least five minutes after
you were pinned to the deck by Mr. Bowman?" I asked, sternly. "Your
story is too thin."
"I was mad, crazy with excitement; I didn't know what I was doing,"
pleaded "poor Griff." "Don't give me over to the police! I never was
before a court for anything in all my life! Forgive me this time, dear
Captain!"
I was afraid I might do so if he talked to me long in this strain.
"Take him down to the boat! Obey your order, Mr. Washburn!" I said,
with energy. "Take the knife with you, and deliver it to the police."
"Captain Garningham, I beg you to consider that you are doing a very
great injustice to this boy, who, I am certain, intended no harm to
anybody," interposed Cornwood again.
"I don't believe in the harmless intentions of a man who can draw a
bowie-knife on another," I replied; and I had no more doubt of the
octoroon's guilt than I had of my own existence.
"I am very sorry indeed that you should take so serious a view of what
has proved a harmless affray," added Cornwood. "If you deliver him over
to the police, which, as the captain of the vessel, you have a right to
do, I suppose his case will be called to-morrow forenoon. I must ask
leave of absence to act as his counsel."
I supposed this was said to remind me of the excursion of the next day,
the news of which had been circulated from the steward's department.
But the excursion made no difference to me; I felt that I had a duty to
perform, and I was resolved to perform it, even if the excursion had to
be postponed to another day. Griffin Leeds was carried into the boat,
and the mate departed for the city with him.
"Now, Mr. Cornwood, I should like to see you in regard to the up-river
trip," I said, as soon as the boat had left the steamer. "We leave on
Monday."
"If this affair which has just occurred will permit us to do so," added
the Floridian, rather stiffly.
"That need not detain us a single day," I replied, decidedly. "We have
twice as many hands as we need for this river navigation; and we can
spare all that may be needed as witnesses."
"But I have to remain to defend poor Griff, who, I am persuaded, is a
victim of circumstances," said Cornwood, who evidently intended to make
it plain I was to reap the bitter fruits of my folly in the
dissatisfaction of my passengers, as they might not be inclined to stay
after they had made up their minds to go.
"Then I shall be obliged to make the trip with a river pilot," I added
promptly, for I did not intend that the Floridian should get ahead of
me in this business.
The guide bit his lips, as though he did not quite like the situation.
He knew enough of Owen Garningham to understand that, after he had made
up his mind to start on the up-river trip on Monday, he would be
determined to go in the face of all obstacles.
"I can hardly desert the poor fellow in his trouble," sighed Mr.
Cornwood.
"That is a question you must decide for yourself," I replied, with as
much indifference as I could assume. "It seems to me you make a light
matter of a serious assault, and your sympathy is all with the man who
committed it. You call him 'poor Griff,' as though he were a persecuted
victim, instead of one who had raised his hand with a knife in it
against one of the ship's company."
"I have a great regard for that boy, for he saved my life once when I
fell overboard and was injured so that I could not swim, and there were
three large sharks near the vessel. I should be inhuman to desert him,
even if he were as guilty as you seem to think he is," continued the
guide; but I was inclined to believe that his explanation was more than
half an invention.
"In what court will this man be brought up?" I asked.
"He will be brought before the mayor, as magistrate; and if he
considers it a simple assault, he will fine the boy, or send him to
prison; if an assault with intent to kill, he will bind him over to a
higher court for trial."
"In either case, the matter is likely to be disposed of in season for
the excursion to-morrow forenoon. If he is bound over, we can appear,
such of us as are required as witnesses, at the proper time," I
replied, as off-hand as though I had been a lawyer all my days. "Now we
will leave that question, and turn to others of more importance."
"It may be a matter of light importance to have the boy sent off to
work with a prison-gang for two or three years, but I don't so regard
it," growled Cornwood.
"When a man draws a knife on another, he needs the attention of the
courts. You seem to be so accustomed to that sort of thing that you
mind nothing about it. Where I come from we don't use knives with that
sort of freedom."
"If it were not clearly a misunderstanding on the part of poor Griff, I
wouldn't say anything more about it."
"It was no misunderstanding when Griffin leaped to his feet, at least
five minutes after the struggle with the engineer, and rushed upon him
with a knife. But we will say nothing more about it, anyhow. Colonel
Shepard says the party wish to go up the river as far as Sanford and
Enterprise, and up the Ocklawaha to Lake Griffin."
"As it seems to be very uncertain whether I go with you or not, I
prefer to say nothing about the trip for the present," replied the
Floridian, sulkily.
"Very well; then you will consider your engagement at an end," I added,
without an instant's hesitation; and already I began to feel some
relief at the idea of getting rid of a suspicious person.
My sudden decision did not seem to suit the guide any better than my
position in regard to Griffin Leeds. I had risen from my chair at the
desk, as though the business was finished, when I gave my decision; and
by this time he could believe that I meant all I said.
"There will be time enough to settle this business after the court has
met to-morrow morning," said he, with an evident intention of "backing
down."
"But my passengers wish to know at once what the plan is, and I desire
to procure a pilot for the excursion to-morrow," I replied.
"I will go with you on the excursion, whether I go up the river or
not."
"No, you will not. I have no time to fool with you. I shall engage a
pilot to-night for the up-river trip, if you cannot go with me," I
added, indignantly.
"I think I can go with you; in other words, I will go with you. It is
not possible to go up the Ocklawaha in this steamer," said Cornwood,
suddenly changing front, somewhat to my regret. "The masts and yards
would be carried away by the trees that overhang the stream, and she
draws too much water for the Ocklawaha or the upper St. Johns."
"That matter is settled, then, and I will report to Colonel Shepard.
Will you explain to me where we can go in this steamer."
The guide became as communicative as ever in a little while, and seemed
to have forgotten the little difference which had threatened a serious
rupture in our relations. He was as pleasant as though no cloud had
passed between us. We discussed the up-river trip, and I made memoranda
of what he said till ten o'clock, when we retired. If what he said
about his obligations to Griffin Leeds was true, I could not blame him
for wishing to stand by the waiter. But a fair statement of his
relations, without any of the bullying he had attempted, would have
accomplished his wishes better.
When I turned out in the morning, I found the mate had gone ashore. At
half-past eight, as requested by the chief of police through Washburn,
Ben Bowman and I went on shore to attend the mayor's court. I had
started in season to call on Colonel Shepard, to whom I related all the
events of the preceding evening, including my interview with the
Floridian. The Colonel decided to ask his friend, Colonel Ives, a
lawyer of influence, and a Floridian, to attend court with me.
Washburn was on hand in season, and the mayor listened to the
testimony. Cornwood had his opportunity to badger the witnesses, and he
made the most of it. The magistrate, in spite of the eloquence of the
counsel for the defence, chose to regard the offence as a serious
assault, and bound the prisoner over for his appearance at a higher
court, three weeks hence. This was about the time we expected to be
absent up the river, and I saw that the Colonel's friend had managed
the case well without saying a word out loud. Cornwood found bail for
the culprit, and he was released.
"I suppose he can return to his duties on board of the steamer," said
the waiter's counsel.
"No, sir; I would not tolerate such a man on board any more than I
would a rattlesnake," I replied.
I paid him his wages, and something more, on the spot; and when he left
the court, his look and his manner indicated that he was more intent
upon revenge than anything else. It was quarter of ten when the case
was thus settled for the present, and we hastened to the wharf, and on
board. I had engaged a large barge at the boat-wharf to put the
passengers on board, and they were all taken off at one load.
We had the anchor up by the time they were alongside, and it was only a
few minutes after ten when I rang the bell to go ahead.
CHAPTER XVIII.
THE EXCURSION TO MANDARIN.
The band struck up a lively air as the boat started; and nothing could
be more exhilarating than the strains of the music, in the soft
sunshine and mild, sweet air of that semi-tropical region. It was
March; but the air was like summer. As soon as we had passed the first
bend, the St. Johns appeared more like a far-reaching lake than a
stream. The river is from one to six miles wide below Pilatka. The
shores are never elevated, for there is not a bluff upon it that is
more than thirty feet high, while generally the land is only a few feet
above the level of the water. The highest elevation near the river
hardly exceeds sixty feet.
The country is almost wholly covered with woods, as seen from the
river. With the exception of a few villages, hardly a house can be seen
from the passing steamer. One seems to be nearly alone with nature
while voyaging on this broad tide. The trees are pines and magnolias,
and now and then one sees a patch covered with jasmine, the vine of
which climbs the trees and shrubs, and blossoms there. There are plenty
of flowers, even in the early spring. Compared with Maine or Michigan,
where I had spent most of my life, it was fairy-land in March.
"What are you doing here, Cornwood?" asked Colonel Ives, as he entered
the pilot-house, soon after we were under way.
The party was somewhat larger than it had been the day before, and both
the Mayor and Colonel Ives, with their families, were on board.
"I am the pilot of this steamer for the present," replied Cornwood; and
I thought he felt a little "cut" by the question.
"Isn't this a little derogatory to the profession?" laughed the
Colonel.
"I don't practise at the bar much, as you are aware: my health does not
admit of the confinement," the pilot explained.
"That is often the case with practitioners who don't have much to do in
their profession."
"I have always had all I could do at the bar; but the open air and an
active life agree best with me."
"It does with everybody who is short of cases."
"But he is a good pilot down the river, and I have no doubt he is just
as good up the river, Colonel Ives," I interposed. "His knowledge of
his native State surprises us all."
"I was only bantering him, captain," replied the passenger. "I think he
is a very good lawyer too, though he did not have a good case this
morning."
"When it comes to trial, I will show you that it is a better case than
you think it is," replied Cornwood, with more spirit than he had before
exhibited. "'Prisoners hang that hungry jurymen may dine,' and you and
the Mayor were in a hurry to finish the case, so that you could join
this excursion."
"I was not in the case," added the Colonel.
"But you prompted the magistrate to end it as soon as possible."
"What was the use of talking all day over a matter that was as plain as
day? The rascal would have killed the engineer, if the deck-hands
hadn't interfered," replied Colonel Ives. "The case might have been
finished in ten minutes, as well as in three-quarters of an hour."
I was willing the lawyers should fight it out between themselves, and I
left the pilot-house, which Owen and his ladies had not yet invaded. I
saw Washburn on the top-gallant forecastle, looking at the scenery of
the river, and I joined him in this retired place. I had not yet had an
opportunity to ask him if he had found Cobbington, and I went to the
forecastle for this purpose.
"I found him," replied the mate, in a disgusted tone. "But I might as
well not have found him."
"Why so?" I inquired, rather amused by the manner of my friend.
"Since I came on board, I have found out something more than I knew
before. Last evening, while you were ashore, Cornwood called a boat
that was passing, and sent a letter ashore by the boatman," continued
Washburn, as much dissatisfied as though he had been personally
injured. "Of course that note went to Captain Boomsby."
"How do you know Cornwood sent a letter on shore last night?"
"Buck," called the mate to the deck-hand who was on duty forward.
"On deck, sir," replied Buck, touching his cap to the mate.
"You told me this morning, when you set me ashore, that the pilot sent
a letter to the city last night by a boat he hailed."
"Yes, sir; three or four of us were on deck at the time, if there is
any doubt about it," replied the deck-hand.
"No doubt at all about it. Did you notice the boatman that took the
letter?"
"It was a blacky I have seen a dozen times about the steamer and on the
wharf, looking for jobs for that boat-yard," replied Buck. "He was in
the barge that brought off the passengers to-day."
"All right, Buck;" and the deck-hand retired. "After I heard about this
letter, I didn't expect anything of Cobbington, if I found him."
"Did you find him?"
"I did; he was not out of his bed when I called for him. He told me he
had two water moccasins, and one of them had got away while he had a
room at Captain Boomsby's. He did not know what became of him. He had
looked all about the house without being able to find him."
"Did he tell you what became of the other?"
"I asked him that question, and he told me he had him still. I asked
him to let me see him, but he refused in spite of all I could say to
induce him to show him. He said the snake was nailed up in a box, with
only some holes bored in it to admit the air; and he could not show the
snake without taking off the cover of the box. The moccasin was a
dangerous fellow, and he didn't want to run any risks with him. He had
left his last boarding-place because they killed a rattlesnake
belonging to him. I asked him to show me the box, but he wouldn't even
do that, and said it was all nonsense to show the box."
"You made up your mind that he had no moccasin?" I added.
"No more than I had. On my way down from the house I met his landlord,
coming home from the market. He asked me if I had found Cobbington. I
told him I had, and then informed him his lodger kept a live moccasin
snake in his room. He was greatly astonished at what I told him, and
declared that he wouldn't have a moccasin in his house for all the
money there was in Jacksonville; the snake might get loose, and bite
his wife or one of his children. He intimated that he should hasten
home and turn Cobbington out of his house: he would not have any man
under his roof who would endanger the lives of his wife and children."
"That was bad for Cobbington," I replied, with a smile.
"I told the landlord what his lodger said, that he had the moccasin
nailed up in a box. He didn't care how he kept him: he would not have
such a fellow about his house. I added that I did not believe
Cobbington had any such snake in his room, though he insisted that he
had. Then he either had a moccasin, or he lied about it, and in either
case he didn't want the fellow in his house. I came to the conclusion
that the landlord wanted to turn out his lodger, and only wished for a
reasonable excuse for getting rid of him. I left him; and I suppose
Cobbington has been turned out by this time. I shouldn't want a
poisonous snake in my house."
"Nor a man who would lie without a reasonable excuse," I added.
The steamer went along at her usual speed. I returned to the
pilot-house, where by this time Owen had installed all the young ladies
he could get into it. They were all full of fun and jollity, and were
enjoying the excursion to the utmost. As it seemed to me that they
ought to do so, I found no occasion to complain. I could not help
suspecting that the pilot might be guilty of some treachery, after the
events of the morning, and I deemed it advisable to have a close watch
upon him. But he kept the steamer in the middle of the river, where I
had been informed there were no shoals; and certainly no rocks, for not
one could be found in this part of the state, even big enough to stone
a stray dog.
"Mulberry Grove on the right," said Cornwood, who did not neglect his
duties as guide, while he attended to those of pilot.
We could see little besides a long pier, though there was a glimpse to
be obtained of a house through the vista of trees.
Twenty minutes later we ran up to the pier at Mandarin, where the pilot
made as handsome a landing as I ever saw in my life. It was half-past
eleven when we had secured the steamer to the wharf. The band played
some popular airs, and in a few minutes I judged that we had the entire
population of the village on the wharf. It was a lively time for
Mandarin, which is a remarkably quiet place. I believe I saw something
like a store there, though I am not quite sure. About all the houses
are on the bank of the river, and were reached by a long, narrow
foot-bridge, built over the lagoon. From the main bridge, cross bridges
extended to each house.
At twelve the lunch was ready, and the excursionists went down into the
cabin to attend to it, while the band on the hurricane-deck continued
to play. An oyster chowder and baked shad were the principal
substantials of the lunch; and while they were served, Gopher was the
greatest man on board. As soon as the lunch was disposed of, and the
cook had been sufficiently complimented, the party went on shore.
Cornwood led the way over the long foot-bridge.
"There is an alligator in the wild state," I said to Miss Margie, as I
was walking with her and her father.
"I don't see anything," she replied.
"Don't you see that splashing in the water, with something black in the
midst of it? That is an alligator, the first one I ever saw," I added.
It looked like a stick of wood. A little farther along we saw one on a
log. He was not more than three feet long. He attracted the attention
of the party, who had never seen one in his native element before; but
we expected to see larger ones in the course of a week or two. Mrs.
Stowe's cottage was one of the first we came to. It was a one-story,
wooden house, with no pretensions to elegance. An immense live-oak grew
near it, and covered the cottage with its branches. Around it was an
orange grove, on the trees of which many oranges still remained. The
distinguished lady was not at home, and we did not see her.
We walked to the end of the bridge, looking at the pretty dwellings on
the shore, and then went upon the land, where we had quite a ramble.
But an hour enabled us to see all there was of the place, and we
embarked for the return. Before five o'clock we were in sight of
Jacksonville. The pilot ran the boat as near the shore as it was safe
to go, and the barge I had engaged to be present
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