A VISIT TO ORANGE PARK.
Cornwood was slow to move, after I directed him to take the wheel. I
saw that he was not yet in the pilot-house, when I rang the bell to go
ahead. I directed the mate with Ben and Landy to prevent any of the
party in the boat from coming on board, and hastened to the
pilot-house. But before I reached the door Cornwood was at the wheel.
He threw it over, and met the boat with the helm when she began to make
headway. I was not quite sure that he did not intend to rebel; but I
was ready to send him ashore the instant he did so in word or deed. My
suspicions began to gather weight again. He had evidently delayed the
steamer until the arrival of the boat containing Captain Boomsby and
the husband of the stewardess.
I could easily fancy that the pilot was at the bottom of all the
proceedings to delay or prevent the departure of the boat. The
attachment was to prevent her going at all; the claim for the
stewardess was to help along the matter. It seemed to me that some
heavy reward had been promised to Cornwood for his services, or he
would not endanger the liberal wages he was paid for his services on
board of the Sylvania. But I knew nothing about the matter, and it was
useless to conjecture what he was driving at.
The steamer was headed up the river, and we had actually begun our
long-talked-of trip. Cornwood steered the boat as well as usual, but he
was moody and silent. If he was ugly and bent on mischief, the worst he
could do, as I understood the matter, was to run the steamer aground.
This would not be a very serious calamity, and could involve no worse
consequences than a loss of time. I was not alarmed at anything he
might do while we were sailing up the river. I seated myself at the
side of the wheel, and allowed things to take their course, as, in New
Jersey, when it rains, they let it rain. But if Cornwood was angry, he
cooled off in the course of half an hour, and remarked that it was a
delightful day for the start. I was not obstinate on this point, and I
agreed with him.
"I don't think you treated me quite fairly, Captain Garningham, in the
affairs of poor Griff and his wife," said he, when the steamer was off
Mulberry Grove.
"Didn't treat you fairly!" I exclaimed, astonished at this new phase of
the argument. "Do I treat you unfairly because I won't have a man with
murder in his heart on board? Do I treat you unfairly because his wife
refuses to leave her place?"
"I have told you the reason why I am interested in the man; I am under
obligations to him," added Cornwood.
"I have no objection to your being interested in him to the last day of
his life; but I am not sufficiently interested in him to have a man who
draws a knife on another in this vessel," I answered. "I am not under
obligations to him."
"I have done the best I can to serve you, and I thought a friend of
mine might be entitled to some consideration," continued Cornwood, with
an injured innocence of tone and manner.
"Your influence procured for him and his wife places on board; and
Griffin might have retained his position, if he had behaved half as
well as his wife has."
"Poor Griff lay down on the deck to take a nap----"
"I don't care to hear that argument over again. I could have passed
over the scuffle, if he had not drawn his knife when there was nothing
to provoke him," I interposed.
"The assistant engineer did not tell the truth when he said he did not
lay the weight of his hand on him," protested Cornwood.
"I believe he did. I don't believe Griffin was asleep. He lay down with
his ear to the skylight of the captain's room in order to hear what
passed between me and the mate. This is the second time Griffin was
caught in the act of listening. More than this, the assistant engineer
was on the watch, by my order, for eavesdroppers, as will appear at the
trial," I replied, with energy.
"By your orders?" exclaimed Cornwood.
"By my orders. Both the engineer and the assistant were asked to do
this duty, because Griffin was seen before, skulking where he had no
business to be."
"The mate assaulted poor Griff the other day," added the pilot.
"He caught him listening under the windows of our room, and took him by
the collar for it, if that is what you mean by assaulting him."
"He had no right to take him by the collar."
"I will grant that he had not; but when one is in the midst of
eavesdroppers, his indignation may get the better of his judgment," I
replied.
"That was just the case with poor Griff; but he is a poor man, and not
the son of an ex-governor; and he is persecuted to the full penalty of
the law for it," growled Cornwood.
"I think there is some difference in the cases. Griffin was skulking
about, trying to listen to conversation which did not concern him. If
he wants to take a nap, he lies down with his ear to an open skylight.
Mr. Washburn is charged with the discipline of the vessel; and when
your friend attempted to escape from the place where he was caught, the
mate took him by the collar. Griffin, or you, as his counsel, might
have prosecuted him for the assault, if you had thought proper to do
so," I answered.
"I am sorry I did not do so, after what has happened since."
"I am sorry you did not, for it would have brought to light some things
which have not yet been ventilated."
"What do you mean by that, captain?" demanded the pilot, looking
furtively into my face.
"It is not necessary to explain matters that have not yet been brought
into the case," I replied coldly. "I think we had better drop the
subject, and not allude to it again. As a guide and pilot, I am
entirely satisfied with you. Griffin Leeds has been discharged; and he
cannot be employed again under any circumstances on this vessel. I
won't have a man about who is skulking under windows, listening to what
don't concern him, or a man who will draw a knife on another."
"The steward wants to know at what hour he shall serve dinner in the
cabin to-day?" asked Cobbington, poking his head into the pilot-house
at this moment.
For some reason not apparent to me, the pilot was so startled at the
sound of the new waiter's voice that he let go the wheel, as he was
swinging the boat around at a bend of the river. The wheel flew over
with force enough to knock a man down if it had hit him. I immediately
grasped the spokes, and began to heave it over again.
"No harm done; my hand slipped," said the pilot.
"Good morning, Mr. Cornwood," added the new waiter, with a broad grin
on his face. "I didn't know you were the pilot of this steamer. I hope
you are very well."
"Very well," answered Cornwood, with an utterly disgusted expression on
his face, as he continued to throw the wheel over.
"I think the passengers will not dine on board to-day," I replied to
the question of the waiter. "But I will let the steward know in
season."
The forward-cabin steward retired. It was evident that Cornwood had not
seen him on board before, and that he was not at all pleased to have
him as a fellow-voyager on the river. Cobbington looked as though he
had gained twenty pounds in flesh since he came on board on Saturday
night. In his new clothes he presented a very neat appearance; and he
had done his duty faithfully. He was so familiar with his work, that he
required scarcely any instruction. All hands were greatly interested in
his accounts of forest life in Florida, and he appeared to be a general
favorite. By Monday morning, he was generally called the "sportsman."
"Is that man employed on board?" asked Cornwood, soon after Cobbington
took his head out of the door.
"He is; he takes the place of Griffin Leeds," I replied.
"How long has he been on board?"
"He came on Saturday night."
"He is a good-for-nothing vagabond!" exclaimed the pilot.
"He has had a hard time of it in Florida, according to his own account.
If he does his duty, that is all I want of him," I added.
"Where did you pick him up?"
"He hailed Mr. Washburn in the street when I was with him, and we
brought him off with us. He was in a starving condition, and Captain
Boomsby, at whose house he used to have a room, refused to give him
even a supper. I believe he has been in the snake business to some
extent," I replied, indifferently.
I knew very well that Cornwood wished to know precisely what our
relations were with Cobbington; but he was not so simple as to ask any
questions about them. I could not prove that Captain Boomsby had placed
the moccasin in the closet of the room where he had confined me, for my
benefit, but I could prove that the explanation of the presence of the
snake there was without any foundation in truth. Griffin Leeds had
discovered by listening to the conversation of the mate and myself,
that we were investigating the matter, and had a clue to Cobbington.
Then Cornwood had sent a note to the saloon-keeper to this effect, and
Captain Boomsby had bribed the invalid with a dollar to lie about the
matter.
While I was reasonably certain in regard to such portions of the chain
of the story as I had been compelled to supply, I could not prove all I
believed. On the other hand, Cornwood was an exceedingly valuable
person to me as guide and pilot, and I was unwilling to dispense with
his services until he showed the cloven foot too palpably to be
retained.
The Sylvania was approaching Orange Park, a place which Colonel Shepard
desired to visit. A sign four hundred feet long, and fifteen feet high,
the largest in the world, indicates the locality. It can be read a mile
off, and the visitor "who runs may read." Cornwood ran the steamer
alongside the long pier, and our passengers landed. Mr. Benedict, the
enterprising Rhode Islander who owns the vast estate of nine thousand
acres, was on the wharf to welcome them. The place had formerly been an
immense sugar plantation; but the present owner had cut it up into
small farms and town lots, and considerable progress had been made in
peopling it with residents from the North.
The bluffs were thirty feet high on the river, and the highest
elevation was seventy feet, about the highest on the St. Johns. Quite a
number of dwelling-houses had been erected, including a hotel, and the
place had a store, a school, and a hall for religious services. Several
thousand orange-trees had been set out, and were in a thrifty
condition. They set out stumps of sour orange-trees, three inches in
diameter, and graft into them two shoots, a few inches above the
ground. These had grown two or three feet in a single year, and in five
or six years they would be in bearing condition. Young trees, five or
six feet high, are also set out. If the orange grower is successful,
the crop is exceedingly profitable.
Lots of from one to twenty acres were sold at from one to thirteen
hundred dollars, as they were nearer or farther from the river. A house
that would answer the purpose of a settler could be built for one
hundred and thirty dollars, and a comfortable cottage for five hundred
dollars.
We walked up to the hotel, and dined with the proprietor.