system of innumerable keys, or small islands, extending from this point
to the Tortugas, nearly two hundred miles east and west, at the
extremity of the peninsula. Of coral formation, as soon as it is built
up to the surface of the water it crumbles under the action of the sea
and sun. Sea-fowl rest upon it, dropping the seed of some marine plants,
or the hard mangrove is washed ashore on it, and its all-embracing roots
soon spread in every direction; so are formed these keys. Darkness and
shoal water warned us to anchor. We passed an unhappy night fighting
mosquitos. As the sun rose, we saw to the eastward a schooner of thirty
or forty tons standing down toward us with a light wind; no doubt it was
one from the fort sent in pursuit. Up anchor, up sail, out sweeps, and
we headed down Biscayne Bay, a shoal sheet of water between the reefs
and mainland. The wind rose with the sun, and, being to windward, the
schooner had the benefit of it first, and was fast overhauling us. The
water was shoaling, which I was not sorry to see, for our draft must
have been from two to three feet less than that of our pursuer, and we
recognized that our best chance of escape was by drawing him into shoal
water, while keeping afloat ourselves. By the color and break of the
water I saw that we were approaching a part of the bay where the shoals
appeared to extend nearly across, with narrow channels between them like
the furrows in a plowed field, with occasional openings from one channel
into another. Some of the shoals were just awash, others bare. Ahead was
a reef on which there appeared but very little water. I could see no
opening into the channel beyond. To attempt to haul by the wind on
either tack would bring us in a few minutes under fire of the schooner
now coming up hand over hand. I ordered the ballast to be thrown
overboard, and determined, as our only chance, to attempt to force her
over the reef. She was headed for what looked like a little breakwater
on our port bow. As the ballast went overboard we watched the bottom
anxiously; the water shoaled rapidly, and the grating of the keel over
the coral, with that peculiar tremor most unpleasant to a seaman under
any circumstances, told us our danger. As the last of the ballast went
overboard she forged ahead, and then brought up. Together we went
overboard, and sank to our waists in the black, pasty mud, through which
at intervals branches of rotten coral projected, which only served to
make the bottom more treacherous and difficult to work on. Relieved of a
half-ton of our weight, our sloop forged ahead three or four lengths,
and then brought up again. We pushed her forward some distance, but as
the water lessened, notwithstanding our efforts, she stopped.
Looking astern, we saw the schooner coming up wing and wing, not more
than a mile distant. Certainly the prospect was blue; but one chance was
left, to sacrifice everything in the boat. Without hesitation,
overboard went the provisions except a few biscuits; the oars were made
fast to the main-sheet alongside, and a breaker of water, the anchor and
chain, all spare rope, indeed everything that weighed a pound, was
dropped alongside, and then, three on each side, our shoulders under the
boat's bilges, at the word we lifted together, and foot by foot moved
her forward. Sometimes the water would deepen a little and relieve us;
again it would shoal. Between the coral-branches we would sink at times
to our necks in the slime and water, our limbs lacerated with the sharp
projecting points. Fortunately, the wind helped us; keeping all sail on,
thus for more than a hundred yards we toiled, until the water deepened
and the reef was passed. Wet, foul, bleeding, with hardly strength
enough to climb into the boat, we were safe at last for a time. As we
cleared the shoal, the schooner hauled by the wind, and opened fire from
a nine-or twelve-pounder; but we were at long range, and the firing was
wild. With a fair wind we soon opened the distance between us.
General Breckinridge, thoroughly used up, threw himself down in the
bottom of the boat; at which Tom, always on the lookout for his master's
comfort, said, "Marse John, s'pose you take a little rum and water."
This proposal stirred us all. The general rose, saying, "Yes, indeed,
Tom, I will; but where is the rum?" supposing it had been sacrificed
with everything else.
[Illustration: OVER A CORAL-REEF.]
"I sees you pitchin' eberyt'ing away; I jes put this jug in hyar, 'ca'se
I 'lowed you'd want some."
Opening a looker in the transom, he took out the jug. Never was a potion
more grateful; we were faint and thirsty, and it acted like a charm,
and, bringing up on another reef, we were ready for another tussle.
Fortunately, this proved only a short lift. In the mean time the
schooner had passed through the first reef by an opening, as her skipper
was undoubtedly familiar with these waters. Still another shoal was
ahead; instead of again lifting our sloop over it, I hauled by the wind,
and stood for what looked like an opening to the eastward. Our pursuers
were on the opposite tack and fast approaching; a reef intervened, and
when abeam, distant about half a mile, they opened fire both with their
small arms and boat-gun. The second shot from the latter was well
directed; it grazed our mast and carried away the luff of the mainsail.
Several Minie balls struck on our sides without penetrating; we did not
reply, and kept under cover. When abreast of a break in the reef, we up
helm, and again went off before the wind. The schooner was now satisfied
that she could not overhaul us, and stood off to the northward.
Free from our enemy, we were now able to take stock of our supplies and
determine what to do. Our provisions consisted of about ten pounds of
hard bread, a twenty-gallon breaker of water, two thirds full, and three
gallons of rum. Really a fatality appeared to follow us as regards our
commissariat. Beginning with our first drenching on the St. John's,
every successive supply had been lost, and now what we had bought with
so much trouble yesterday, the sellers compelled us to sacrifice to-day.
But our first care was to ballast the sloop, for without it she was so
crank as to be unseaworthy. This was not an easy task; the shore of all
the keys, as well as that of the mainland in sight, was low and swampy,
and covered to the water's edge with a dense growth of mangroves. What
made matters worse, we were without any ground-tackle.
At night we were up to Elliott's Key, and anchored by making fast to a
sweep shoved into the muddy bottom like a shad-pole. When the wind went
down, the mosquitos came off in clouds. We wrapped ourselves in the
sails from head to feet, with only our nostrils exposed. At daylight we
started again to the westward, looking for a dry spot where we might
land, get ballast, and possibly some supplies. A few palm-trees rising
from the mangroves indicated a spot where we might find a little _terra
firma_. Going in as near as was prudent, we waded ashore, and found a
small patch of sand and coral elevated a few feet above the everlasting
swamp. Some six or eight cocoa-palms rose to the height of forty or
fifty feet, and under their umbrella-like tops we could see the bunches
of green fruit. It was a question how to get at it. Without saying a
word, Tom went on board the boat, brought off a piece of canvas, cut a
strip a yard long, tied the ends together, and made two holes for his
big toes. The canvas, stretched between his feet, embraced the rough
bark so that he rapidly ascended. He threw down the green nuts, and
cutting through the thick shell, we found about half a pint of milk. The
general suggested a little milk-punch. All the trees were stripped, and
what we did not use we saved for sea-stores.
To ballast our sloop was our next care. The jib was unbent, the sheet
and head were brought together and made into a sack. This was filled
with sand, and, slung on an oar, was shouldered by two and carried on
board.
Leaving us so engaged, the general started to try to knock over some of
the numerous water-fowl in sight. He returned in an hour thoroughly used
up from his struggles in the swamp, but with two pelicans and a white
crane. In the stomach of one of the first were a dozen or more mullet,
from six to nine inches in length which had evidently just been
swallowed. We cleaned them, and wrapping them in palmetto-leaves,
roasted them in the ashes, and they proved delicious. Tom took the birds
in hand, and as he was an old campaigner, who had cooked everything from
a stalled ox to a crow, we had faith in his ability to make them
palatable. He tried to pick them, but soon abandoned it, and skinned
them. We looked on anxiously, ready after our first course of fish for
something more substantial. He broiled them, and with a flourish laid
one before the general on a clean leaf, saying, "I's 'feared, Marse
John, it's tough as an old muscovy drake."
"Let me try it, Tom."
After some exertion he cut off a mouthful, while we anxiously awaited
the verdict. Without a word he rose and disappeared into the bushes.
Returning in a few minutes, he told Tom to remove the game. His tone and
expression satisfied us that pelican would not keep us from starving.
The colonel thought the crane might be better, but a taste satisfied us
that it was no improvement.
Hungry and tired, it was nearly night before we were ready to move; and,
warned by our sanguinary experience of the previous night, we determined
to haul off from the shore as far as possible, and get outside the range
of the mosquitos. It was now necessary to determine upon our future
course. We had abandoned all hope of reaching the Bahamas, and the
nearest foreign shore was that of Cuba, distant across the Gulf Stream
from our present position about two hundred miles, or three or four
days' sail, with the winds we might expect at this season. With the
strictest economy our provisions would not last so long. However, nearly
a month in the swamps and among the keys of Florida, in the month of
June, had prepared us to face almost any risk to escape from those
shores, and it was determined to start in the morning for Cuba. Well out
in the bay we hove to, and passed a fairly comfortable night; next day
early we started for Caesar's Canal, a passage between Elliott's Key and
Key Largo. The channel was crooked and puzzling, leading through a
labyrinth of mangrove islets, around which the current of the Gulf
Stream was running like a sluice; we repeatedly got aground, when we
would jump overboard and push off. So we worked all day before we were
clear of the keys and outside among the reefs, which extend three or
four miles beyond. Waiting again for daylight, we threaded our way
through them, and with a light breeze from the eastward steered south,
thankful to feel again the pulsating motion of the ocean.
Several sail and one steamer were in sight during the day, but all at a
distance. Constant exposure had tanned us the color of mahogany, and our
legs and feet were swollen and blistered from being so much in the salt
water, and the action of the hot sun on them made them excessively
painful. Fortunately, but little exertion was now necessary, and our
only relief was in lying still, with an impromptu awning over us.
General Breckinridge took charge of the water and rum, doling it out at
regular intervals, a tot at a time, determined to make it last as long
as possible.
Toward evening the wind was hardly strong enough to enable us to hold
our own against the stream. At ten, Carysfort Light was abeam, and soon
after a dark bank of clouds rising in the eastern sky betokened a change
of wind and weather. Everything was made snug and lashed securely, with
two reefs in the mainsail, and the bonnet taken off the jib. I knew from
experience what we might expect from summer squalls in the straits of
Florida. I took the helm, the general the sheet, Colonel Wilson was
stationed by the halyards, Russell and O'Toole were prepared to bail.
Tom, thoroughly demoralized, was already sitting in the bottom of the
boat, between the general's knees. The sky was soon completely overcast
with dark lowering clouds; the darkness, which could almost be felt, was
broken every few minutes by lurid streaks of lightning chasing one
another through black abysses. Fitful gusts of wind were the heralds of
the coming blast. Great drops of rain fell like the scattering fire of a
skirmish-line, and with a roar like a thousand trumpets we heard the
blast coming, giving us time only to lower everything and get the stern
of the boat to it, for our only chance was to run with the storm until
the rough edge was taken off, and then heave to. I cried, "All hands
down!" as the gale struck us with the force of a thunderbolt, carrying a
wall of white water with it which burst over us like a cataract. I
thought we were swamped as I clung desperately to the tiller, though
thrown violently against the boom. But after the shock, our brave little
boat, though half filled, rose and shook herself like a spaniel. The
mast bent like a whip-stick, and I expected to see it blown out of her,
but, gathering way, we flew with the wind. The surface was lashed into
foam as white as the driven snow. The lightning and artillery of the
heavens were incessant, blinding, and deafening; involuntarily we bowed
our heads, utterly helpless. Soon the heavens were opened, and the
floods came down like a waterspout. I knew then that the worst of it had
passed, and though one fierce squall succeeded another, each one was
tamer. The deluge, too, helped to beat down the sea. To give an order
was impossible, for I could not be heard; I could only, during the
flashes, make signs to Russell and O'Toole to bail. Tying themselves and
their buckets to the thwarts, they went to work and soon relieved her of
a heavy load.
[Illustration: A ROUGH NIGHT IN THE GULF STREAM.]
From the general direction of the wind I knew without compass or any
other guide that we were running to the westward, and, I feared, were
gradually approaching the dreaded reefs, where in such a sea our boat
would have been reduced to match-wood in a little while. Therefore,
without waiting for the wind or sea to moderate, I determined to heave
to, hazardous as it was to attempt anything of the kind. Giving the
colonel the helm, I lashed the end of the gaff to the boom, and then
loosed enough of the mainsail to goose-wing it, or make a leg-of-mutton
sail of it. Then watching for a lull or a smooth time, I told him to put
the helm a-starboard and let her come to on the port tack, head to the
southward, and at the same time I hoisted the sail. She came by the wind
quickly without shipping a drop of water, but as I was securing the
halyards the colonel gave her too much helm, bringing the wind on the
other bow, the boom flew round and knocked my feet from under me, and
overboard I went. Fortunately, her way was deadened, and as I came up I
seized the sheet, and with the general's assistance scrambled on board.
For twelve hours or more I did not trust the helm to any one. The storm
passed over to the westward with many a departing growl and threat. But
the wind still blew hoarsely from the eastward with frequent gusts
against the stream, making a heavy, sharp sea. In the trough of it the
boat was becalmed, but as she rose on the crest of the waves even the
little sail set was as much as she could stand up under, and she had to
be nursed carefully; for if she had fallen off, one breaker would have
swamped us, or any accident to sail or spar would have been fatal: but
like a gull on the waters, our brave little craft rose and breasted
every billow.
By noon the next day the weather had moderated sufficiently to make more
sail, and the sea went down at the same time. Then, hungry and thirsty,
Tom was thought of. During the gale he had remained in the bottom of the
boat as motionless as a log. As he was roused up, he asked:
"Marse John, whar is you, and whar is you goin'? 'Fore de Lord, I never
want to see a boat again."
"Come, Tom, get us something to drink, and see if there is anything left
to eat," said the general. But Tom was helpless.
The general served out a small ration of water and rum, every drop of
which was precious. Our small store of bread was found soaked, but, laid
in the sun, it partly dried, and was, if not palatable, at least a
relief to hungry men.
During the next few days the weather was moderate, and we stood to the
southward; several sail were in sight, but at a distance. We were
anxious to speak one even at some risk, for our supplies were down to a
pint of rum in water each day under a tropical sun, with two
water-soaked biscuits. On the afternoon of the second day a brig drifted
slowly down toward us; we made signals that we wished to speak her, and,
getting out our sweeps, pulled for her. As we neared her, the captain
hailed and ordered us to keep off. I replied that we were shipwrecked
men, and only wanted some provisions. As we rounded to under his stern,
we could see that he had all his crew of seven or eight men at quarters.
He stood on the taff-rail with a revolver in hand, his two mates with
muskets, the cook with a huge tormentor, and the crew with handspikes.
"I tell you again, keep off, or I'll let fly."
"Captain, we won't go on board if you will give us some provisions; we
are starving."
"Keep off, I tell you. Boys, make ready."
One of the mates drew a bead on me; our eyes met in a line over the
sights on the barrel. I held up my right hand.
"Will you fire on an unarmed man? Captain, you are no sailor, or you
would not refuse to help shipwrecked men."
"How do I know who you are? And I've got no grub to spare."
"Here is a passenger who is able to pay you," said I, pointing to the
general.
"Yes; I will pay for anything you let us have."
The captain now held a consultation with his officers, and then said:
"I'll give you some water and bread. I've got nothing else. But you must
not come alongside."
A small keg, or breaker, was thrown overboard and picked up, with a bag
of fifteen or twenty pounds of hardtack. This was the reception given us
by the brig _Neptune_ of Bangor. But when the time and place are
considered, we cannot wonder at the captain's precautions, for a more
piratical-looking party than we never sailed the Spanish main. General
Breckinridge, bronzed the color of mahogany, unshaven, with long
mustache, wearing a blue flannel shirt open at the neck, exposing his
broad chest, with an old slouch hat, was a typical bucaneer. Thankful
for what we had received, we parted company. Doubtless the captain
reported on his arrival home a blood-curdling story of his encounter
with pirates off the coast of Cuba.
"Marse John, I thought the war was done. Why didn't you tell dem folks
who you was?" queried Tom. The general told Tom they were Yankees, and
would not believe us. "Is dar any Yankees whar you goin'?--'ca'se if dar
is, we best go back to old Kentucky." He was made easy on this point,
and, with an increase in our larder, became quite perky. A change in the
color of the water showed us that we were on soundings, and had crossed
the Stream, and soon after we came in sight of some rocky islets, which
I recognized as Double-Headed Shot Keys, thus fixing our position; for
our chart, with the rest of our belongings, had disappeared, or had been
destroyed by water, and as the heavens, by day and night, were our only
guide, our navigation was necessarily very uncertain. For the next
thirty miles our course to the southward took us over Salt Key Bank,
where the soundings varied from three to five fathoms, but so clear was
the water that it was hard to believe that the coral, the shells, and
the marine flowers were not within arm's reach. Fishes of all sizes and
colors darted by us in every direction. The bottom of the bank was a
constantly varying kaleidoscope of beauty. But to starving men, with not
a mouthful in our grasp, this display of food was tantalizing. Russell,
who was an expert swimmer, volunteered to dive for some conchs and
shell-fish; oysters there were none. Asking us to keep a sharp lookout
on the surface of the water for sharks, which generally swim with the
dorsal fin exposed, he went down and brought up a couple of live conchs
about the size of a man's fist. Breaking the shell, we drew the
quivering body out. Without its coat it looked like a huge grub, and not
more inviting. The general asked Tom to try it.
"Glory, Marse John, I'm mighty hungry, nebber so hungry sense we been in
de almy, and I'm just ready for ole mule, pole-cat, or anyt'ing 'cept
dis worm."
After repeated efforts to dissect it we agreed with Tom, and found it
not more edible than a pickled football. However, Russell, diving again,
brought up bivalves with a very thin shell and beautiful colors, in
shape like a large pea-pod. These we found tolerable; they served to
satisfy in some small degree our craving for food. The only drawback was
that eating them produced great thirst, which is much more difficult to
bear than hunger. We found partial relief in keeping our heads and
bodies wet with salt water.
On the sixth day from the Florida coast we crossed Nicholas Channel with
fair wind. Soon after we made the Cuban coast, and stood to the
westward, hoping to sight something which would determine our position.
After a run of some hours just outside of the coral-reefs, we sighted in
the distance some vessels at anchor. As we approached, a large town was
visible at the head of the bay, which proved to be Cardenas. We offered
prayful thanks for our wonderful escape, and anchored just off the
custom-house, and waited some time for the health officer to give us
pratique. But as no one came off in answer to our signals, I went on
shore to report at the custom-house. It was some time before I could
make them comprehend that we were from Florida, and anxious to land.
Their astonishment was great at the size of our boat, and they could
hardly believe we had crossed in it. Our arrival produced as much
sensation as would that of a liner. We might have been filibusters in
disguise. The governor-general had to be telegraphed to; numerous papers
were made out and signed; a register was made out for the sloop _No
Name_; then we had to make a visit to the governor before we were
allowed to go to a hotel to get something to eat. After a cup of coffee
and a light meal I had a warm bath, and donned some clean linen which
our friends provided.
We were overwhelmed with attentions, and when the governor-general
telegraphed that General Breckinridge was to be treated as one holding
his position and rank, the officials became as obsequious as they had
been overbearing and suspicious. The next day one of the
governor-general's aides-de-camp arrived from Havana, with an
invitation for the general and the party to visit him, which we
accepted, and after two days' rest took the train for the capital. A
special car was placed at our disposal, and on our arrival the general
was received with all the honors. We were driven to the palace, had a
long interview, and dined with Governor-General Concha. The transition
from a small open boat at sea, naked and starving, to the luxuries and
comforts of civilized life was as sudden as it was welcome and
thoroughly appreciated.
At Havana our party separated. General Breckinridge and Colonel Wilson
have since crossed the great river; Russell and O'Toole returned to
Florida. I should be glad to know what has become of faithful Tom.