Went to Orlando one day and back the next. Saw my old farmer, Erving
Reed, and his wife. He is manager of a big orange grove. Gave me the
skin of a 5 ft. rattler, with 12 rattles, which he killed on the place
a short time ago. Sometimes I wonder a little bit about the camping
trip which we propose. If the moccasins get you in the water and the
rattlers on the shore, where in H---- do you sleep, anyway? Weather
pulled northeast drizzly again. Three days of hard northeast rain,
which is probably good for garden truck and such.
_February 16th._ Before turning in last night we saw the clouds split
wide open to the westward, and we slept with two blankets and were cold
at that. Gave up the idea of going in launch, for this cold northeast
rain has made it dangerous for camping on the ground, and I have plenty
of rheumatix now. Up with the light and away at 8 o’clock. Launch
astern and Mascot light without her ballast. Made good time before
smart northerly airs. The water clear and so it was fairly easy to
avoid the many sand bars. The channel wound in, out, and around many
little wooded islets, and it was quite like sailing on the still waters
of some northern lake. Down past New Smyrna and so with many crooks and
bends to Mosquito Inlet, where is a fine great light tower. Here we
miscued badly, but the clear water saved our bacon and we were able to
turn the outfit around and regain the deep water. Then on until we got
badly boxed and had to go channel hunting in launch before we could get
on. Without ballast old Mascot pushed around as easy as you please and
while we got aground many times, we had little trouble in working off.
Just before reaching the little settlement of Eldora, we passed the
big, Indian shell mound and in a few miles approached Mosquito Lagoon,
a good big stretch of water spread out mighty thin. No place for me to
be bobbing about in with no ballast and only a dinky little launch, so
it was haul to the bank, and fill up some canvas bags with sand and
stow them. Then out to entrance of big lagoon, which spread beautifully
calm before us. It was late afternoon and the east was all blue and
purple mists. Across the water to the west, lay a broad, blood-red
pathway to the sun just dropping, a great ball, behind the dark line
of palmettos. Flights of pelicans and big, long necked cranes stood
out sharply against the crimsoned sky. We tied to the bank of a little
island for the night which was filled with the strange calls and cries
of strange birds. H. complained of sore throat so he did his gozzle up
with cold bandage and red flannel.
[Illustration]
_February 17th._ Never a day broke fairer. H. had good night, but
turned out with a fearful cold and pretty sore throat, so waited for
sun to warm things up well before tripping our hook. Then away into
broad Mosquito Lagoon in which we grounded a good many times before
reaching the haulover canal or out leading through into Indian River.
Passed through the cut and as we entered the river we saw a great,
black pig quarter mile from shore quietly rooting away in water 15
in. deep. Now what do you make of that? If swordfish iron hadn’t been
washed overboard long ago might have had a little aside at pig-sticking
from the launch. Indian River same as Mosquito Lagoon, except there
are a few more feet of water and practically no danger of grounding.
The river is wide at this point just above Titusville, and as the
shores are low, the whole thing is uninteresting even on such a perfect
afternoon. Lots of ducks and very tame. I got two with old Bess and
might have had many more but didn’t need them. We pushed on and on and
it was long after dark when we dropped hook off village of Cocoa. Think
we must have done our forty miles or better today. I seldom measure it
off. In fact we never look at the charts ahead to see just how far it
is to any place, but start in at top of a chart, work through it, and
unroll another to be handled in the same way. After doing this several
times we finally unroll one that has our stopping place. At starting
we had 39 charts in the roll. Tonight we put the keebosh on No. 35 so
we must be pretty close to the jumping off place. H. turned in early
feeling kind of meechin from effect of his cold, which has gone to his
head and taken away his taste to that degree that he no longer finds
fault with my cooking.
_February 18th._ Turned out to another bright, warm, calm morning. H.
sneezing and coughing at a great rate. Into wharf for gasoline and
oil where was also interviewed by newspaper man. Then away southward
once more. Set our awning. Most grateful, cooling shade. There we sat
in our easy chairs, smoking and reading just like the nasty rich, who
passed us in their palatial houseboats. Ducks, ducks, ducks. Acres
and acres, thousands and thousands. So tame it seemed we must surely
run them down. Fun to see their little feet paddle, paddle so fast to
help them rise from the calm water. It was the same story all day.
Low, uninteresting shores dotted here and there with houses and little
villages and ahead always that great stretch of calm water. Towards end
of day we came to some right pernickety navigation and we jumped her
again and again, but always were able to push off and on once more. At
five o’clock with sky sort of festering up, we snugged into Sebastian’s
Creek and over hook in 6 ft. of water which is a handsome depth, here
away.
_February 19th._ Turned out before light to find an ugly look to sky
and sort of soaking air southeast. Anchorage under these conditions
didn’t suit me a bit so was away early with breeze in my eye and
pricking on. Six miles and more down to Indian River Narrows and
couldn’t put sail on as there was only 5 ft. in channel and nothing
on either side the last mile or so. Came pesky hard, but by taking in
awning little launch was able to kick us into a snug little cove where
we put down hook to await better chances. Made up a new recipe for game
and had most successful noonday feed. Here you go for duck a la Mascot.