At break of day I woke, and, stealing downstairs, took gun, powder-horn,
and shot, and in the stable loft put the ammunition in the top of my
snapsack; then, quickly changing my clothes, concealed those I had put
off under the hay, and so set out.
The town was all asleep, and I saw no one until I passed the
Bettering-house, and the Grenadiers cleaning their guns, and powdering
their queues and hair, and thence pushed on to the river. The lower
ferry, known also as Gray’s, lay just a little south of where the
Woodlands, Mr. Andrew Hamilton’s house, stood among trees high above the
quiet river.
A few tents and a squad of sleepy men were at the ferry. I handed my
order and pass to the sergeant, who looked me over as if he thought
it odd that a man of my class should be so equipped to shoot ducks.
However, he read my pass and the order for the boat, pushed the skiff
into the water, and proposed, as he lifted my snapsack, to let one of
his men row me. I said No; I must drift or paddle on to the ducks, and
would go alone. Thanking him, I pushed out into the stream. He wished me
good luck, and pocketed my shilling.
It was now just sunrise. I paddled swiftly downstream. Not a hundred
yards from the ferry I saw ducks on the east shore, and, having loaded,
paddled over to Rambo’s Rock, and was lucky enough to get two ducks at
a shot. Recrossing, I killed two more in succession, and then pushed on,
keeping among the reeds of the west bank. As I passed Bartram’s famous
garden, I saw his son near the river, busy, as usual, with his innocent
flowers.
A half-mile below I perceived, far back of the shore, a few redcoats.
Annoyed no little,--for here I meant to land,--I turned the boat, still
hidden by the tall reeds, and soon drew up the skiff at Bartram’s,
where, taking gun and snapsack, I went up the slope. I found Mr. William
Bartram standing under a fine cypress his father had fetched as a slip
from Florida in 1731. He was used to see me on the river, but looked at
my odd costume with as much curiosity as the sergeant had done. He told
me his father had died but ten days before, for which I felt sorry,
since, except by Friends, who had disowned the good botanist, he was
held in general esteem. I hastily but frankly told Mr. Bartram my
errand. He said: “Come to the house. A company or two has just now
passed to relieve the lower fort.”
After I had a glass of milk, and good store of bread and butter, I asked
him to accept my gun, and that he would do me the kindness to return
the skiff, and with it to forward a note, for the writing of which Mrs.
Bartram gave me quill and paper.