CHAPTER I.
MAKING A FLORIDA PORT.
"That's it, as true as you live, Captain Alick!" exclaimed BobWashburn, the mate of the Sylvania, as he dropped the spy-glass fromhis right eye. "Your dead-reckoning was correct every time."
"I have no doubt you are right, Washburn," I replied, referring to anopen volume that lay on the shelf under the forward windows of thepilot-house. "'A square tower, painted white, sixty-eight feet abovethe sea,'" I continued, reading from the _Coast Pilot_. "But thereis another tower, more than twice that height. Ah, here is a note inpencil I made: 'The government has built a new tower, one hundred andsixty feet high.'"
"That must be St. Augustine Light: there can be no possible doubt ofit. It fits the description; and that is exactly where we ought to findit," added the mate.
The Sylvania had been on a ten weeks' cruise to Nassau, Havana, and theBermuda Islands. In Havana we had been startled by the report of a fewcases of yellow fever, and we had hastily departed for the Bermudas,where we had cruised by sea and journeyed by land for a month. Thesteam-yacht was now on her return to Florida. The weather had beenthick and rainy, and for the last two days I had failed to obtain anobservation. But we had heaved the log every two hours, though therewas rarely a variation of half a knot from our regular speed. We hadmade careful calculations and allowances for the current of the GulfStream, and the result was that we came out right when we made theFlorida coast.
We had two sets of instruments on board; and Washburn and myself hadeach made an independent observation, when the sky was clear enough topermit us to do so, and had ciphered out the latitude and longitude. Wehad also figured up the dead-reckoning separately, as much for practiceas to avoid mistakes. We had varied a little on the dead-reckoning, andit proved that I was the nearer right, as the position of St. AugustineLight proved.
The steam-yacht was under charter for a year to my cousin, OwenGarningham, a young Englishman, who was spending the winter in theSouth. The after cabin was occupied by four other persons, who were hisguests,--Colonel Shepard, his wife, son, and daughter. Miss Edith, thedaughter, was Owen's "bright particular star," and she was one of themost beautiful young ladies I ever saw. I may add that she was asgentle and amiable as she was pretty. All the Shepard family were verypleasant people, invariably kind to the ship's company; and though theColonel was a very wealthy man, none of them ever "put on airs" intheir relations with the crew.
Though I did not pride myself on the fact that some of my ship'scompany had "blue blood" in their veins, I certainly believed that novessel was ever manned by a more intelligent, gentlemanly, and skilfulcrew. Robert C. Washburn, the mate, was a college student, who wouldreturn to his studies at the end of the voyage. He was one of the bestfellows I had ever met, and was competent to command any vessel, on anyvoyage, so far at least as its navigation and management wereconcerned. We were devoted friends; but he received his wages and didhis duty as though he and I had had no other relations than those ofcaptain and mate.
Moses Brickland, the chief engineer, was the son of my guardian; andthough he was still in his teens, he was competent to build an engine,or to run it after it was built. Bentley F. Bowman, the assistantengineer, was a full-grown man, and had a certificate, besides beingone of the best seamen I ever sailed with. Our steward, who was ouronly waiter until we sailed from Jacksonville in December, had beenchief steward of a large Western steamer, and fully understood allbranches of his business. He was on the present voyage for the benefitof his health. Buck Lingley and Hop Tossford, the deck-hands, wereyoung Englishmen, belonging to the "first families," and were friendsof my cousin Owen; but two more daring, resolute, and skilful youngseamen never trod a deck. The two firemen were young machinists I hadshipped at Montreal when they were out of work. They were brothers, andthe sons of a Vermont farmer. Washington Gopher, an excellent cook, wasa gray-haired colored man, who had rendered the best of service onboard.
The Sylvania had come all the way from Lake St. Clair, and it wasexpected that she would return there. The steam-yacht was my property,so far as a minor could hold property. She had been presented to me bythe head of a wealthy Western family for a valuable service I hadrendered. I had cruised in the Great Lakes in her, and had had someexciting adventures on board.
I had spent my earliest days in the poor-house of a Maine town, fromwhich a down-east skipper had taken me for the work I could do. But Iwas afterwards found near Lake St. Clair by my father, after a long anddiligent search. But he had been obliged to leave me in charge of Mr.Brickland, my ever faithful friend and guardian, while he went toEngland to attend to some family affairs. He left property enough tomake me independent for life, but it had all been lost by a fire, and Ihad nothing but the Sylvania.
The steam-yacht afforded me an abundant support while she was undercharter to my cousin. Owen was the next heir to me of my father's titleof baronet and his large estate. One Pike Carrington, my father'ssolicitor, had persuaded my cousin to enter into some vague conspiracyto "get rid of me in some manner." But, with the aid of Washburn, I haddiscovered the plot; and having the good fortune to save Owen's life ina storm, before he was fairly committed to the conspiracy, he hadbecome my fast friend.
My cousin's mother was very rich, and it appeared that she gave himmoney without stint or limit. Carrington had bought the sister yacht ofthe Sylvania, the Islander, which was to take part in the conspiracyagainst me, and in which the solicitor had followed the Sylvania toFlorida. He had employed Captain Parker Boomsby, the down-east skipper,then settled in Michigan, to command her, and to assist in carrying outhis plan. One feature of the scheme was to make me believe that myfather was dead; and for months I did believe it. Captain Boomsbyclaimed that I had been "bound out" to him till I was twenty-one; andhe insisted upon the possession of my person and my property as much asthough I had been his slave. My father had made an arrangement with himby which he had abandoned all his interest in me, but at the reporteddeath of my father, Carrington had induced him to assert his claimagain.
Captain Boomsby had followed me to Florida in the Islander, with thesolicitor as his passenger. The former had evidently undertaken "to getrid of me;" but, instead of doing this, he had sacrificed thesolicitor. Both he and the lawyer had become hard drinkers, and in theCaptain's attempt to wreck me, he had sunk the Islander and drowned hisemployer. I judged that this would be the end of the conspiracy; and soit was, so far as my cousin Owen and the solicitor were concerned, butnot on the part of Captain Boomsby.
I had left my "ancient enemy," as I had a right to regard CaptainBoomsby, at Jacksonville when we sailed for the West Indies. I knewthat his experiment of making money in Michigan had been a failure, andthat he was looking for a more hopeful field of operations in someother section of the country. One of his men told me that he intendedto run the Sylvania on the St. Johns River as a passenger boat, andthat he felt sure of obtaining possession of her, because, he asserted,he was the rightful owner of her. The paper he had signed was destroyedwith the rest of my valuables.
As the steam-yacht approached the coast of Florida I did not even thinkof my ancient enemy. I had left him in Jacksonville, where he wasdrinking all he could carry, every day. He was terribly bitter andrevengeful towards me; for though my father had paid him a considerablesum of money to appease him, rather than to satisfy any just claim hehad upon me, he could never be content until he obtained all that couldbe had, either by fair means or by foul. There was no more principle inhim than there was in a paving-stone.
"That is St. Augustine Light," I continued. "There can be no mistakeabout it, for there is not another light within thirty-five miles ofit; and we could not have gone so wide of the mark as that."
"You are right, Captain Alick, as you always are," laughed the mate.
"None of that, Bob! You know as well as the next fellow that I am notalways right; I wish I were. How was it about going into St. George?" Ireplied.
"The exception always proves the rule. I was right
by accident thattime. But you never go ahead till you are sure where you are going."
"I shall not this time," I added, turning to the _Coast Pilot_ again."'Vessels coming from the northward will run down till the light-housebears west by north, keeping in three fathoms of water,'" I continued,reading from the book.
We kept the Sylvania moving at about half-speed until the tower bore inthe required direction; then the mate directed Buck Lingley, who was onwatch forward, to heave the lead.
"Mark under water three," reported the deck-hand.
"That's all right," I added. "Now how is the tide?"
We could cross the bar only when the water was above half-tide; andthis was an important question. We found from our nautical almanac thatit would be half-tide at nine o'clock in the forenoon; and it was notyet seven in the morning by the corrected time. We were as near thecoast as I cared to go. We could just make out the square tower of thelight-house in the fog, and I was not willing to trust myself inunknown waters near the shore without a pilot. I directed Washburn tostop the engine, and keep a sharp lookout for the drift of the steamer.
Leaving the pilot-house, I went forward, and presently discovered apilot-boat coming out of the inlet. One of her crew was waving a flagto the port side from her bow. This meant that we were to bear tostarboard. I told the mate to go ahead, bearing to the northward. In afew minutes more we had a pilot on board, whose first question was asto our draft of water. I gave it as nine feet, though it wasconsiderably less when we had nearly emptied our coal-bunkers. Thepilot decided that we must wait a couple of hours.
The sun rose at 6.26 on the first day of March, which was just tenminutes earlier than at Detroit. It soon burned off the fog inshore, sothat we could see the ancient city of St. Augustine. Our passengers,who had become so accustomed to sea-life that they did not turn outbefore eight in the morning, soon began to appear. With the pilot atthe wheel we went over the bar before nine, and a run of two miles morebrought us to our anchorage off the sea-wall.