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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.