CHAPTER VII.

  THE ENEMY IN A NEW BUSINESS.

  We had three ladies on board; but Tom Sands was the bedroom steward aswell as waiter, and I thought this was not just the thing. I came tothe conclusion, before we left St. Augustine, that we ought to have astewardess to wait upon the ladies. I spoke to Mr. Cornwood, and in afew hours more we had Chloe, the wife of Griffin Leeds, duly installedin that position.

  She had no children, and did not appear to be more than twenty yearsold. She was very neat and lively, and the ladies were much pleasedwith her. She had had experience on a Charleston and a St. Johnssteamer. The forecastle of the Sylvania had not been used on the cruiseexcept as a store-room, and I had this prepared for the use of Leedsand his wife. Peeks and Sands slept in the cabin; and if the stewardesswas wanted in the night, she could be called.

  It was only a six or seven hours' run to Jacksonville, especially as wehad a strong south-westerly breeze, and carried all sail in addition toour steam. We started at an early hour in the morning, so as to havethe tide right to cross the bar at the mouth of the river.

  "You needn't put that flag in the fore-rigging," said Mr. Cornwood,when he discovered the signal for a pilot flying, as we approached thebar.

  "Why not?" I asked, forgetting some of the wonderful things he had toldme he could do.

  "I am a pilot for any waters of Florida, and I can take the steameracross the bar as well as any man you will pay for this service," headded, apparently hurt by the appearance of the ensign on the foremast.

  "But you have neither branch nor warrant; and if anything should happento the Sylvania while she has not a regular pilot on board, mypassengers would never forgive me."

  "But I know that bar as well as I knew the rooms in my father's house,"protested the Floridian.

  "But you are not an authorized pilot," I insisted.

  I could not see why he was so strenuous about the matter, unless it wasbecause he thought I distrusted his ability. The steamer was notinsured, so that nothing depended upon that matter; but I could nottrust a pilot whose ability had not been proved. Cornwood was quitesulky about the matter for some time, and declared that, if he was tobe of no use on board he did not care to remain. He had someself-respect, and he could not take his salary if he did not earn it.

  When the pilot came on board it proved to be the same one who had takenus over in December. He had a great deal to say about the excitingevents of that day; and as he stood at the wheel he asked manyquestions about the steamer and the man who had attempted to wreck her.

  "I took an ice schooner up to Jacksonville about three weeks ago, and Istopped a day in the city," said the pilot. "You see, I live on FortGeorge Island, and when I go up to the city I always come down again assoon as I can; but this time I stopped over for a day, for I had achance to bring a vessel down. I went into a saloon on Bay Street, andwho should I see behind the bar but the man that ran the othersteam-yacht into this one, or tried to do so, and got the boot ont'other leg."

  "What, Captain Boomsby?" I asked, astonished at the information.

  "Yes, that's the name. I had forgotten what it was; and he hadn't gothis sign out then."

  "Do you mean to say that he is in business in Jacksonville?" I asked.

  "He keeps a saloon there."

  "What sort of a saloon?"

  "Why, a bar-room," replied the pilot, laughing. "He told me he had beenup north since I saw him, and had brought his family down. He livesoverhead the saloon; and he seemed to be doing a lively business."

  "I am afraid he will be his own best customer," I added.

  "I reckon he is, for he was getting rather full when I saw him."

  "He talked about coming to Florida when I saw him in Michigan; but hesaid he was going into the business of raising early vegetables andoranges."

  "He has got a place up the river, and means to raise truck for themarket besides. He must have some money."

  "I think he has considerable property. He did not find farming inMichigan as profitable as he expected. He is one of those men who wantto coin money all at once."

  Shortly after noon we came to anchor off the city. The pilot leapedinto his canoe, and boarded a steamer going down the river. ColonelShepard was in a hurry to go on shore, and I landed him at once. Thesteward went off to the market for ice and fresh provisions in theother boat. I did not expect all my passengers to remain on board whilewe were at Jacksonville. The Colonel had a house which had been badlydamaged by fire while we were here in December, and I had no doubt hewould occupy it, with his family, while we remained here.

  He was not absent more than an hour, for his house was on St. JamesPark, a short distance from the shore. Everything about it had been putin complete repair, and it was ready for occupancy. In the afternoon welanded the family, and the Hon. Mr. Tiffany and his daughter wereinvited to go with them. The Sylvania seemed to be deserted when theywere gone; but in a few days we were to begin the trip up the river,and in the meantime take the party on such excursions as they desiredto make. Of course Owen went with the Shepards.

  Chloe had made herself so agreeable to the ladies that they desired herto accompany them on shore. The steamer was in first-rate condition,and there was nothing for anybody to do but eat and sleep. Mr. KirbyCornwood was still sulky because he had not been permitted to pilot thevessel up from the ocean; but I was not disposed to comfort him. Aboutfour o'clock, it was so quiet on board, I thought I would go on shorefor a while. Washburn was asleep in our room, and I did not disturbhim, for we had all been up till after midnight the night before,listening to the music, and enjoying the moonlight.

  I landed at the boat wharf opposite the Grand National Hotel, on BayStreet. This is the principal street of the city, and both sides of itare lined with stores, warehouses, and the principal public buildings.It extends parallel with the river. At one end of it is the railroadstation and the Grand National; near the other end are the CarltonHotel and the Yacht Club house. Nearly all the business of the city isdone on this street.

  When the stranger leaves Bay Street he seems to enter another countryin passing the distance of a single square. About all the other streetsare bordered with live-oaks or water-oaks, and every house has aflower-garden and an orange grove, on a small scale. The balconies andverandas are loaded with vines, which are in full flower in March. Theair is scented with the fragrance of the jasmine. The sidewalks are ofwood, and the roads are the original soil, which looks like the bluehouse-sand of the North.

  St. James Park is two squares from Bay Street. All of one side of it isoccupied by the St. James Hotel. In the centre of the park is a smallkiosk, from which one may take in the surroundings. Like all the restof Florida, even the fertile orange groves, the soil looks like bluesand. There are plenty of semi-tropical plants, and the scene is asunlike anything in the North as possible. In every lot there areorange-trees, with oranges on them; but they are not the eatable fruit.They are bitter or sour oranges, which remain on the trees all winter.

  The orange-trees blossom in March; and then the air is densely loadedwith their perfume. The leaves remain green all winter; but in theearly spring they begin to put forth new shoots and leaves. The oldleaves are dark green, and the new ones light. On the same tree may beseen the old and the new leaves, the ripe fruit, and the richly-scentedblossoms. Coming from the frozen North in March, the traveller seems tobe hurled into "eternal summer," more like fairy-land than anythingelse, as the wheels whirl him into Jacksonville.

  I had seen the place in December, coming from the summer of a morenorthern latitude. I had spent the winter in more tropical regions, andthe flowers and the oranges were nothing new to me. When I landed I wasthinking of the post-office, which was my first objective point. We hadbeen moving about so much that I had not received a single letter sinceI left Jacksonville in December. The post-office is on Bay Street,nearer the northern than the southern end of the street. I walked inthat direction; but I had not gone ten rods before I saw CaptainBoomsby stan
ding at the door of one of the numerous saloons on thatstreet.

  I halted to look at him. His face was very red, and he had grown quitestout since he sailed the Great West, in which I had had the roughestexperience of my lifetime with him. He wore no coat, for his fat andthe fires of the whiskey he drank kept him in a fever-heat all thetime. I kept back behind a pile of goods on the sidewalk while Isurveyed him, and I hoped he would not see me. He seemed to be waitingfor customers; and though I desired him to have none, I wished him toretire within his shop, and allow me to pass without being seen.

  I was dressed in the full uniform of the steam-yacht, with a whitecanvas cap. He had seen me in this rig enough to know it, and mychances of passing him without being seen were very small. But I wasnot afraid of him, and I was rather ashamed of the idea of dodging him.Taking the outside of the sidewalk, and looking intently at the otherside of the street, where the retail dry-goods and curiosity shops werelocated, I attempted to get by the saloon without being seen by itsproprietor.

  "Why, Sandy, how are you?" demanded Captain Boomsby, rushing out to meand seizing me by the hand.

  In spite of my hanging back, he dragged me to the door of the saloon.

  "How do you do, Captain Boomsby?" I replied coldly.

  "Come in and take sunthin', Sandy," he persisted, dragging me into thesaloon in spite of my resistance. "You are about man-grown now, and Ical'late you can take a drop of whiskey, on a pinch."

  "No, I thank you; I never take any," I replied, disgusted with hismanner and his invitation.

  "You hain't been to sea all this time without learnin' to take yourgrog?" he continued, with a coarse laugh.

  "I never drank a drop in my life, and I don't mean to do so," Ianswered.

  "You'll learn in good time. Set down, Sandy, and tell me where you'vebeen."

  I told him in as few words as possible where I had been, and answeredall his questions about my passengers. Then he told me he lived overthe saloon, and insisted that I should go up and see the "old woman." Iwas a little curious to see Mrs. Boomsby, and I followed him up-stairs.