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.