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.