ON BOARD OF THE WETUMPKA.
The Garbrooks were exceedingly pleasant people. Miss Garbrook, without
being pretty, was a very sensible girl, and our young ladies liked her
very much. The time had apparently come to part when we anchored at the
Springs. The young ladies would not consider it; and then came an
invitation for our party to visit Mr. Garbrook's orange plantation on
Five-Mile Creek. It was accepted; and the next day Cornwood piloted us
up that stream as far as the depth of water would permit, and the
Gazelle took them the rest of the way. It was a delightful house, with
a beautiful garden, and ten acres of orange-trees, all in full blossom,
as fragrant as the boudoir of a belle.
We dined on what our host called Florida fare, consisting mainly of a
roasted ham and spring chickens, with oranges, cooked and uncooked, in
every conceivable form. We enjoyed the repast and the hospitality of
the plantation, and regretted that we could not remain as long as our
friends desired. Then came the question of parting, and again the young
ladies protested. Miss Nellie must go with them. Owen at once invited
the family to go with us up the river. A long discussion followed; and
the Garbrooks decided to go if we would wait till the next morning.
This was agreed to; and I sent word to the mate of the Sylvania of the
change in the time of sailing. The ladies remained at the house
overnight, and the gentlemen returned to the steamer in the Gazelle.
At half past six the little steamer brought the ladies and the baggage
of the Garbrooks on board. We got under way immediately, and in less
than half an hour we were standing up the St. Johns. This addition to
the number of our passengers made "a new deal" of the state-rooms and
berths in the cabin. I was asked to assign them as I thought proper,
and Owen told me not to consider him, for he would go into the forward
cabin if necessary. Colonel Shepard and his wife retained one of the
large state-rooms, and the other was assigned to Mr. Garbrook and his
wife. The other two state-rooms were of good size, and had a bedstead
three and a half feet wide in each. One of these was given to Miss
Garbrook, and Miss Edith and Miss Margie volunteered to occupy the
other, declaring that it was quite large enough for both of them. Mr.
Tiffany, Gus Shepard, and Owen had each a berth, without disturbing
Chloe. This arrangement was satisfactory to all the passengers.
The steamer went along at her usual speed of ten miles an hour. After
breakfast, Owen and the young ladies took possession of the
pilot-house, and the rest of the party were seated under the awning on
the forecastle. These places afforded a view of both sides of the
river, and of the long prospect ahead.
"Tocoi," said the pilot, pointing to the left. "This is the place where
passengers are landed who go to St. Augustine. A railroad, fifteen
miles in length, takes travellers the rest of the way."
We could see nothing but a few sheds, and Tocoi itself was of no
consequence. The river was just about what we had seen all the way up
from Jacksonville. At ten o'clock we ran up to the wharf at Pilatka.
This is a thriving town of from fifteen hundred to two thousand
inhabitants, and, like every other place on the river, is a resort for
invalids from the North. After dinner the party landed and explored the
town, which is not very different from any other Florida towns we had
seen. It had pleasant houses, surrounded with orange gardens.
I directed Washburn to anchor the Sylvania at some distance from the
wharf in the river, partly to keep out of the way of steamers arriving,
and partly to make sure that Griffin Leeds did not get on board of her.
I had seen nothing of him, though I fancied he was in Green Cove
Springs while we were there.
The next day was Sunday; all our passengers, and some of the ship's
company, went to church. On Monday morning we sailed for Welaka,
twenty-five miles farther up the river. It is opposite the mouth of the
Ocklawaha River. The St. Johns was only one-third of a mile wide at
this point, and began to look more like a stream and less like a lake.
Colonel Shepard had chartered a small steamer for our trip up the
Ocklawaha and the upper St. Johns. On Saturday afternoon, Washburn,
with Ben Bowman and Dyer Perkins, had started for Jacksonville to bring
the Wetumpka, for that was the name of the craft, up to this point.
She was a nearly new vessel, which the owners had built for an extra
boat, but the scarcity of engineers had prevented them from putting her
on the route at that time, though they had a couple on their way from a
northern city. Steamboat business was exceedingly brisk at this time of
the year on the upper rivers, and the owners of the line had several
boats running on them. The Colonel had obtained the Wetumpka only by
agreeing to run her himself, and by paying a large price for her, quite
as much as she could have made after paying her expenses, if she had
gone on the line.
I was a little uneasy when I found she was not at Welaka. She did not
draw over two feet of water when not loaded, and I was confident she
could come through with Washburn at the wheel. I had left it to the
mate of the Sylvania to start with his charge at whatever time best
suited him. Both Moses Brickland and Ben Bowman had been offered double
the wages I paid them when we arrived at Jacksonville, and had refused
the offer. I could think of nothing but the want of an engineer that
would prevent Washburn from coming through on time.
While I was thinking about it, and worrying a little, I heard some one
on deck say she was coming; and I felt ashamed of myself for doubting,
even for a moment, the loyalty of Ben Bowman. I left my room and went
aft. I saw one of those peculiar Florida boats coming around the bend
below us. I sent for my spy-glass, and soon made out the name of the
Wetumpka on the pilot-house. In ten minutes more she came alongside the
Sylvania.
I had not seen the craft I was to command before, and I had no little
curiosity to look her over. Washburn received me when I went on board,
and we shook hands, for we had been separated for nearly two days, a
longer time than for months before.
"What makes you so late? I was afraid something had happened to you," I
began.
"Are we not on time?" asked the mate. "We were to be here on Monday
forenoon; and it is only eleven o'clock."
"I thought you were to be here in the morning."
"We could not be here very early in the morning without running on
Sunday, or incurring the risk of running aground in the dark," replied
Washburn with a yawn. "The moon did not rise till one this morning. We
slept on board last night, and left Jacksonville at one. We have kept
her going very lively all the time."
"All right; I am entirely satisfied. What sort of a craft is she?" I
continued.
"She is not such a craft as the Sylvania, but she is all right for a
river boat. She has made very good time," replied Washburn, as he
seated himself on the forward deck.
He looked tired, and gaped several times as he was talking to me. He
looked as though he had had a hard time of it.
"I hope you are not sick, Washburn," I said, in commiserating tones.
"Not at all. I slept about four hours last night, and have been at the
wheel of the boat ten hours on a stretch. That's all that ails me; and
I shall be as good as new when I have had a nap."
"Have you had anything to eat to-day?" I asked, thinking the crew of
the Wetumpka had been on duty so that they had not had time to get any
meals.
"Plenty to eat. I laid in a stock of cold ham, chickens, and coffee for
the trip."
"You and those who came up with you had better go on board of the
Sylvania and turn in, while the rest of us transfer the baggage and
stores to this boat," I added.
I called Moses, and asked him to take charge of the engine of the river
boat, and sent the three hands from her to their bunks. The curiosity
of the passengers and crew of the Sylvania was equal to my own. The
party from the cabin rushed on board of the Wetumpka as soon as they
found she was alongside, and we all went into an examination of her.
She was a "twin boat:" that is, she had two hulls, like a "catamaran."
They were flat-bottomed, so as to draw but little water. On these two
hulls were laid a platform, which came to a point at the bow, and
projected some distance forward of the stems of the two boats. On the
main deck, no one would suspect that she was composed of two boats.
The paddle-wheel was between the two hulls, and near the stern of the
craft. The engine was on deck, and the upper part of the paddle-wheel
was boxed up above the main deck. She had a broad opening on each side
of her lower deck, through which she could receive her wood and
freight. Forward of these doors were the quarters for the crew on one
side, and the kitchen and ice-house on the other.
Above the main deck was the saloon deck, with the pilot-house at the
forward end of it. In front of this was a platform on which the
passengers could sit, the pilot looking out over their heads. In the
saloon were eight state-rooms on a side, which were small, but very
comfortably fitted up. At the stern was a pantry and a little
smoking-room. The saloon was neatly furnished, and I thought our
passengers could be very comfortable on board of the Wetumpka for a
couple of weeks. The steward and his force were busy getting ready for
dinner; but I set the deck-hands to moving the baggage of the
passengers at once.
After dinner the stores were removed on board of the river steamer, and
by two in the afternoon we were ready to start up the Ocklawaha, which
was to be the first of the two trips. We towed the Sylvania out into
deep water, anchored her, and left her in charge of Ben Bowman and Dyer
Perkins, for one engineer and one fireman were sufficient for the trip:
Cornwood took the wheel, and we ran into the Ocklawaha. In a few hours
we were in the woods, the trees of which were loaded with trailing
moss, which, however, was no new thing to us, as we had seen it in
Savannah, and all the way up the St. Johns. In places the shores were
submerged, but the channel of the river was clearly defined by the
shrubs and masses of vines, many of them covered with flowers of
various colors. The water was very clear, and not a breath of air
ruffled its surface. Everything above it was reflected as in a mirror,
and the young ladies were in ecstasies at the beauty of the forest, the
vines, and the water.
Occasionally the river widened out into a broad pool, with sandy
shores. In one of these we encountered a raft of lumber, on its way to
Jacksonville. The men on it were wiry, hatchet-faced fellows,
good-natured and easy-going. Just before sunset we came to Silver
Spring Run, into which the pilot turned the boat. If the water had been
clear before, it was perfectly transparent in this run, or stream
flowing from the spring. We could see the fish in the water, sixty feet
down. After dark we moored to a wharf for the night.