We made but a short stay in Jacksonville, then hurried on to St.
Augustine, where a former acquaintance of Julius's was living with his
family. We had to take a river steamer to Tocoi,--called Decoy by many,
for obvious reasons,--then journey across to the coast on a tiny
railway.
The steamboat on the St. John's was a first experience of the kind for
Bruno, who seemed to enjoy it greatly, for the boat had but few
passengers beside ourselves, and we went up and down stairs at will,
making him several visits in his quarters on the lower deck.
Things were even more informal on the little railway. There was no one
about when we boarded the train; so Bruno followed us into the passenger
coach, crept under the seat, doubling himself up like a shut knife, and,
totally effaced by the time the conductor came around, rode first-class
for once. It seemed such a treat for us all to be together as we
journeyed, that our short ride across from "Decoy" to the coast stands
out in memory as the pleasantest part of the journey.
We were met at St. Augustine by Julius's friend, and, as he bore a
pressing invitation for us from his family, we stopped that first day
with them, so that they might have their fill of news from their friends
and relatives whom we had seen just before starting to Florida.
They kindly urged us to stay longer, but we thought that two people and
a dog made a formidable party to entertain as visitors; so we hunted up
a pleasant boarding-house, and settled ourselves for a two weeks' stay.
All three of us found much to surprise us in the old town; but by far
the greatest sensation was Bruno's when we first took him out for a run,
and he promptly made a dash into one of the creeks as the tide was
flowing in, and took a big drink. He was warm with running, and the
water looked so inviting that he had taken a number of swallows before
he tasted it. Then his antics were most comical. He snorted and shook
his head till his ears flapped again, and rubbed at his nose, first with
one paw and then with the other. After that one lesson he never again
drank from a strange pool or stream without first tasting it very
gingerly, then waiting a few seconds to make sure of the after-taste.
But if he objected to the taste of salt water, he found no flaw in the
feeling of it.
There is no memory of him on which I so much love to dwell as on the
picture he made with his tawny curls streaming backwards in the breakers
when we took him out to the beach. The green-curling, foam-tipped waves
were to him a perfect delight. Even his dashing out in our midst and
shaking himself so that we were all drenched in an impromptu shower-bath
is pleasant,--as a memory,--though at the time we scolded him, and tried
to respond sternly to his waggish glances, as he gambolled about and
rolled in the sand.
The salt water was new to all of us, so we spent as much time as
possible on the island and the beaches.
On those days when we were confined to the mainland by showers, or by
the business we were attending to between times, we used to go, towards
evening, to promenade on the seawall. Then Bruno always got down in one
of the basins for a swim before we returned to our temporary home.
Although it seemed like northern spring weather, some days being quite
chilly, and others warm enough for summer clothes, we awoke one morning
to the fact that to-morrow would be Christmas. It had seemed to us,
since our arrival in St. Augustine, as if we were in a foreign country,
the Spanish element was so large in proportion to the rest of the town,
both in the people and their customs and in the arrangement and the
construction of the city. We heard of the celebration of midnight Mass
in the old Cathedral, and resolved to "assist;" but, as the evening came
on crisp and chilly, our enthusiasm cooled with it. The tonic qualities
of the unaccustomed salt air had inspired us with a keen interest in
food and sleep; so, after fully deciding to sit up for the Mass, we were
ready by half-past nine to declare that there was not a sight in the
world worth the sacrifice of such a night's sleep as that for which we
felt ready. So we embarked for dreamland, whence we were recalled at
daylight by Bruno's excitement over a perfect din of tin trumpets and
toy drums.
As we dressed, we peeped through the blinds at the processions of small
boys marching by in the narrow streets below, blowing trumpets and
pounding drums. The daily drills at the barracks in the old city made
all the small boys of the town even more ambitious than small boys
usually are to be soldiers. Apparently, every one of them had sent Santa
Claus a petition to bring him something warlike for a Christmas present.
Julius delighted Bruno by taking him out and buying him a paper of
candy, which he ate with much relish; then we three sat on the upper
piazza on which our room opened, listening to the music and watching the
processions.
It was a very strange Christmas to all three of us. The air was
pleasantly warm, and green things, with roses and other flowers, were in
sight in all directions.
As soon as Christmas had passed, we, with that feeling of having turned
a corner, common at such times, began to hasten our preparations to go
on South. We had inspected various tracts of land around St. Augustine,
but had not found anything to which we felt particularly drawn. It
seemed rather odd, too, to come South intending to pioneer, and then to
settle in or near what the old sergeant at the Fort assured us was the
oldest city in the Union.
We felt that we must, at all events, see what the wilder parts of the
State were like before deciding; so we soon found ourselves speeding
away again towards "Decoy," to catch the boat for a little station away
down South, up the river, which was then the only route to a small
settlement in the mid-lake country, where a relative was living, who had
urged us to see his part of Florida before deciding on anything.
It seems odd now to think how remote south middle Florida was in those
days. The point we were then trying to reach is now less than twelve
hours from Jacksonville by rail. Then we travelled all night by boat,
and took train at breakfast-time across to a big lake, where a tiny
steamer awaited us; on this we crossed the lake, then stopped at a town
on the other side, to wait for a wagon which was to come a half-day's
journey to meet us.
Our message was delayed, so we spent two days at an English inn, near
the big lake, where we made some friends we have kept on our list ever
since. And besides these friendships, we have treasured many pleasant
memories of this inn. We approached it in the twilight of a chilly,
blustering day, and on entering it we were greeted by an immense open
fire of light-wood, which glorified the polished floor, strewn with the
skins of wild creatures killed in the near-by thickets, called hammocks
or hummocks. The firelight gave fitful glimpses of old-fashioned chairs,
tables, etc., and lighted up a number of large gilt-framed paintings
which adorned the walls;--in short, it was a complete picture of
artistic comfort. Nor was our satisfaction lessened by the fragrant odor
of frying ham and hot muffins, wafted to us as we crossed the hall.
They gave us a ground-floor room in an L opening on one of the side
piazzas. This arrangement suited Bruno perfectly, and therefore it
pleased us. There was a small lake behind the house, and the next day
Julius proposed a row. The boat was quite small, and he was then rather
unskilled in the use of oars; so we coaxed Bruno to sit on the tiny
wharf and see us go by.
He seemed quite willing; so we pushed off. As we floated outward, Bruno
lost heart. It was too much like being left behind; so he whined and
plunged in after us.
"It isn't far across," said Julius, "and a swim won't hurt him!"
So we went on, letting him follow.
Suddenly he gave a strange cry, and Julius looked around, exclaiming,--
"See, he's cramping!"
We went to him as rapidly as possible, and were just in time. At the
risk of upsetting us all in the deepest part of the lake--probably about
fifteen feet--Julius dragged him into the boat. We then hurried back to
the landing, where poor Bruno had to be helped out, and we laid him on
the grass in a state of exhaustion which alarmed us greatly.
It was some hours before he was himself again, and many months before he
lost a great fear of the water,--in fact, he was never afterwards the
fearless water-dog of his youth.