CHAPTER VIII.
A PORT IN A STORM.
"Washburn, you have a long head; can you make anything of the situation, for I suppose you know all about it?" I asked, as I joined the mate on the forecastle.
"I know what I have heard about the pilot-house and on the forecastle," replied Washburn.
"I have not been able to make anything out of it, so far," I continued.
"I can't believe that the captain of the Islander means to run away with her. I don't believe this is a trial trip, as you suggested, for the captain would not have come out into this fog on such an errand," added Washburn. "On the whole, I must believe it is a blunder on the part of the captain of the consort. But I think we are not likely to find out anything definite about the case until we overhaul the Islander. All we have to do is to keep moving to the southward, and keep a sharp lookout for the chase. It is useless to bother one's brains over questions that cannot be answered."
"When I saw the Islander, she was well in shore," I added. "If she takes a notion to come about, and run back to the St. Johns, we may miss her."
"And she may drop into St. Augustine," said the mate.
"I don't see any reason why she should," I replied. "Captain Blastblow knows that the party are bound up the Mississippi River. He knows the Sylvania is, at any rate; and he would not have headed to the southward if he had not intended to make the same trip, always supposing he has misunderstood his instructions."
"By six o'clock to-night, if everything holds as it is, we ought to overhaul the Islander, if we don't miss her in the fog, and Captain Blastblow don't do any better in her than any one else has ever done," continued Washburn. "But the wind is freshening, Captain Alick."
"Yes; and the barometer indicates that we are to have a bad day of it," I replied, looking at the white caps that rolled up to windward of the steamer.
The wind was gusty and savage. The steamer heeled well over to port under the heavy press of sail we were carrying. But I did not care much how hard it blew, if it would only carry off the fog, as I believed it would do soon.
By half-past ten I found it necessary to take in the fore square-sail and the fore top-gallant sail, for I was afraid the heavy weight of canvas would strain the foremast. This relieved the steamer for a time; but the wind had increased to a gale, and had hauled more to the southward. Half an hour later we took in the fore topsail and the main gaff-topsail, so that nothing but our fore and aft sails remained. The log at eleven indicated that we were making twelve knots, and it was about time for us to be up with St. Augustine light, but we could not see it in the fog. Suddenly we heard a fog-horn on our starboard bow.
I rushed into the pilot-house and rang the gong. The engineer immediately stopped the engine, and the roar of escaping steam followed. I was afraid we might run down some of the small craft that go in and out of St. Augustine.
"Sail, ho!" shouted Ben Bowman, on the top-gallant forecastle. "I see her; she is a pilot-boat."
A moment later I saw a sail-boat, in which were three men. There was a number on her sail, which indicated that she was a pilot-boat. She had evidently heard our whistle, and had came out in the rough sea to take us into St. Augustine, if we were bound into that port. I directed the wheel man to port the helm, so as to throw the Sylvania up into the wind under the stern of the pilot-boat.
"How came you up there, captain?" demanded one of the men in the boat, and all of them looked amazed.
"We are bound to the southward, coming down from St. Johns bar," I replied. "How does St. Augustine bear from here?"
"Due east," answered the spokesman of the trio.
"Look out for your reckoning, Washburn," I added, turning to the mate.
"Twenty minutes of twelve," added Washburn, consulting the chronometer. "This is exactly where we ought to be at this time," and he made the entry on the log-slate.
"Haven't you been over this course before to-day?" asked the spokesman of the pilot.
"Not to-day," I answered, perceiving what it was that bewildered the pilots. They had evidently seen the Islander, and supposed the Sylvania was the same steamer.
"We came out here after a steamer we heard whistling in the fog," continued the speaker. "We got near enough to hail her; and if this is not the same steamer, she is as near like the other as one pea is like another."
"She is the twin sister of this vessel. Did you see who was on board of her?" I inquired.
"I saw no one but the captain, and he said he was bound south, and was not going into St. Augustine."
"Did he tell you where he was bound?"
"He didn't say a word about it, but kept on his course."
"Good-day," I added, as I told Hop to ring the speed-bell.
We filled away again, and were soon going through the water at our former speed. The pilot-boat was almost swamped in the heavy sea, and I have no doubt her crew were a little out of sorts after coming out for a vessel and getting nothing for their pains.
"That's good as far as it goes," said Washburn, when we were on our course again. "We are sure now that the Islander has not gone into port."
"And we are sure the Islander is not a great way ahead of us," I added.
"Just seven miles," replied the mate, glancing at the log-slate. "I could stick a pin in the chart at exactly the point where she is."
"But it may be that Captain Blastblow has not blown his blast entirely in vain, and may have been able to get more speed out of the Islander than anybody else has," I suggested.
"But the pilots said she was only half an hour or so ahead of us. She got off at least an hour ahead of us; and if we have not been gaining on her, she ought to be about ten miles ahead," argued Washburn. I was willing to accept his logic, for we had been over the reasoning times enough to understand the case in precisely the same way.
"The fog is lifting, sir," reported the second engineer, who was doing voluntary duty on the top-gallant forecastle.
This was agreeable news, and all hands directed their gaze to the point where the Islander was believed to be. The gale was increasing in force every moment. Though I had no fears for the safety of the vessel, I knew how fearfully so small a steamer as the Sylvania leaped and rolled in a heavy gale, and I was not a little concerned about the comfort of my passengers. We had had a very thorough trial of her pitching and rolling in the Gulf of St. Lawrence, and I did not like to subject the Shepards and the Tiffanys to any unnecessary discomfort.
"We are going to have a regular muzzler, Washburn," I said, after glancing at the barometer again.
"There isn't any doubt about that," he replied, laughing. "I wish we had no ladies on board."
"I was thinking of that myself, and I will go down into the cabin, and talk the matter over with our passengers," I replied. "Of course if we give up the chase of the Islander, we are not likely to come near her again. But Colonel Shepard and his family may decide that question."
I left the pilot-house and went aft. Though we were but a few miles from the land, there was a tremendous sea raging, and the Sylvania was pitching violently. I went down into the cabin and found the passengers trying to keep their places on the transoms. They were all exceedingly good-natured about the situation. Owen was making jokes, and the young ladies were laughing at them. Cobbington and Tom Sands had put the guards on the table, and were doing what they could to prepare for dinner.
"Why do you shake up the Sylvania so fiercely, Alick?" asked Owen.
"She is behaving very prettily just now; but I came down to tell you that it is likely to blow, and kick up an uncomfortable sea," I replied, looking at Mrs. Shepard, who seemed to be the most tried by the situation.
"But I had an idea that it was blowing already," added Owen.
"So it is, in a mild way," I answered.
"If this is only in a mild way, what will it be when it blows harder?" asked Mrs. Shepard, nervously.
"It will be worse than it is now," I replied.
"Do you think we are in any danger, Captain Alick," inquired the lady, looking very anxiously into my face.
"I do not think we are in any danger," I added. "But it is going to blow a great deal harder than it does now."
"What will it do then, Captain Alick?" asked Miss Edith.
"The Sylvania is small, and she will pitch and roll a great deal more than she does now. Mr. Garningham has been in her during a very heavy gale, and he can tell you something about it."
"She stands up straight, and rolls quite over, so that we shall all be pitched against the ceiling of the cabin," added Owen, maliciously. "Then she goes down under the brine, quite out of sight of any one supposed to be on the top of the waves. The water may come down into this cabin like a young Niagara."
"Then there must be very great danger," said Mrs. Shepard.
"No great danger, madam, but I fear you will be very uncomfortable," I answered.
"But can't we stop till the weather is better?"
"We shall find no port it will be safe to enter in this weather, madam," I replied. "If it were fine weather, we might run into Mosquito Inlet; but that is seven hours' run from here."
"We shall all have our brains knocked out if we go on in this way," groaned Mrs. Shepard. "Can't you do something to make us more comfortable, Captain Alick?"
"I can make you all quite comfortable in less than an hour," I answered. "But our business just now is to overtake the Islander; and if we delay the voyage we may never see her again."
"Plague on the Islander!" exclaimed the lady.
"I don't think there is any particular danger, ladies," interposed my father. "It is altogether a matter of comfort."
"I don't want to have my brains knocked out," added Miss Edith.
"If we keep on we may know who has brains and who has not," laughed Owen.
"I'm sure those who want to be thumped about in this manner haven't any brains," continued Mrs. Shepard. "What can you do, Captain Alick?"
"We have just passed the entrance to St. Augustine harbor. We could run back, and make a port there," I replied.
"Then do it, for mercy's sake," said the lady, as a heavy sea rolled the steamer down to her gunwale.
"I should certainly have suggested doing so, if we had not been in chase of the Islander."
"That need not make any difference, Captain Alick."
"The gale may last all night as well as all day, Alick," added my father. "We are sailing for pleasure, and there is no pleasure in being beaten about in this manner. I think you had better put about and get us into smooth water."
I went on deck rather disappointed at the result of the conference, for I was interested in the chase. I ordered the jib and mainsail to be taken in, and the helm to be put down. The fog had lifted to the northward and westward of us, so that I could see St. Augustine light and the pilot-boat. We took up one of the pilots, and in less than half an hour we were anchored under the lee of the town, where the water was as smooth as that of a mill-pond.
Our party were not inclined to land, and we spent a pleasant afternoon on board, in spite of the storm. We could see that it was blowing almost a hurricane outside, and were quite contented to be at anchor.
CHAPTER IX.
A VISIT FROM AN OLD ACQUAINTANCE.
I could not help thinking of the Islander as we lay at anchor off the pier in St. Augustine. As I looked at the angry billows outside, I understood what kind of a time Captain Blastblow was having. But if he handled his vessel well, and kept out of the breakers, I had no doubt he would come out of the trial all right. The wind had hauled still more to the southward, and even to the east of south. I was confident that the Islander, having the wind nearly dead ahead, would not make much headway against such a fierce wind.
About two o'clock in the afternoon, when we had finished our dinners, both in the after and the forward cabin, I saw a boat put off from the shore. The person in the stern sheets had a familiar look, though I did not recognize him till he came on deck.
"I hope you are quite well, Captain Garningham," said he, advancing towards me with extended hand.
It was Cornwood, who had been with us up the St. Johns in the double capacity of guide and pilot, to say nothing of a third capacity as conspirator. While I could not prove it, I was satisfied that he was employed by Captain Boomsby to get me out of the way in some mild manner. He had caused a drunken mulatto to be employed as a waiter in the fore-cabin, who was another of the conspirators. But both of them had been foiled; though, if my father had not arrived at the scene of action when he did, I might not have been privileged to tell my story. The waiter had been sentenced to a term as a convict, though Cornwood had been his counsel.
I thought it was rather impudent of Cornwood to come on board of the Sylvania after what had happened; but brass and impudence were the principal elements of his stock-in-trade. He seemed to have as much assurance as though his relations had been entirely pleasant with me. He was a man of decided ability, though not as a lawyer. He knew more about Florida than any other man I had met; and I had never known him, in the month of my intimacy with him, to be ignorant of any subject, from the navigation of an interior lake or river to the scientific name of a plant or animal. In spite of the harm he had intended to do me, through his agent, I had a great respect for his ability.
"You found it rough outside, Captain Garningham," said Cornwood, when he had disposed of the commonplace introductories.
"Too rough for the ladies; and I came in here to find a smoother sea," I replied.
"The storm won't last long, as it comes from the southward," he added.
"When did you leave Jacksonville, Mr. Cornwood?" I asked, for I thought I had seen him in the street the day before.
"I came up in the morning boat," he replied. "It is getting to be very dull in Jacksonville, and I thought I might find something to do here, for fishing and hunting parties often come to St. Augustine without stopping at the city."
"We had some thought of trying the fish at Indian River as we went along; but circumstances do not allow us to stop, and we shall run direct for Key West. Was there anything new in regard to the robbery of the bank messenger this morning?"
"I heard nothing. But your friend, Captain Boomsby, is in great trouble," said Cornwood, smiling, as though the saloon-keeper's trouble, whateveér it was, could not produce a deep impression on his late employé.
"What is the matter with the captain?" I asked, with interest.
"His son Nick has disappeared."
"Nick disappeared!" I exclaimed, not a little astonished.
"He cannot be found, though his father searched from six o'clock this morning till the time I left."
"When did his father first miss him?"
"It appears that Nick tended bar till after midnight. The old man was too full to sit up any longer, and he left Nick to close the bar. The captain says his son did not sleep in the house last night, and he has no idea when or where he went."
"Very likely he left in the first train this morning," I suggested, recalling all that had passed between Nick and me the day before.
"No, he didn't, for his father went to the station, and passed through the train just before it started. He did not leave by railroad, or come up the river in the Hampton, or I should have seen him."
"Nick has something like sharpness, and he knew he could not get off on the morning train. But he could have walked to Baldwin between the time he closed the bar and nine o'clock, and taken the train there," I added.
"I don't believe Nick walked twenty miles: he is too lazy to do anything of the kind," added Cornwood, with a smile of incredulity. "But he is not a great loss to his father; and he may make his way when he is thrown on his own resources. There was another piece of news in Jacksonville this morning."
"What was that?" I inquired.
"But I suppose you know more about this matter than any one in the city. It was said that Colonel Shepard's yacht, in which he was going to New Orleans, left without him or his family. Is that a fact?"
"It is true, to the letter," I replied. "I took the colonel and his family on board of the Sylvania, and they are in the cabin now."
"That's very odd—that Captain Blastblow should leave without his passengers," added Cornwood. "What does it mean?"
"That is more than any one on board of the Sylvania can explain."
"Was there any money on board of the yacht—I forget her name, though I have heard you mention it several times?"
"The Islander: she is the twin-sister of the Sylvania, and as near like her as one pin is like another," I answered. "I am not aware that there was any money on board of her; and I should say there was not, for the passengers had not sent their baggage on board."
"Does any one know where she is gone?"
"She is bound to the south, for we saw her off St. Johns' bar headed in that direction. The pilots off the St. Augustine light saw her to-day noon. We were chasing her when our passengers desired to get out of the heavy sea."
"I should think Colonel Shepard would have some idea of the motives of Captain Blastblow."
"He has no more idea than I have, and I have none. We are inclined to believe that the captain misunderstood his orders, for Colonel Shepard was in doubt whether or not he should be able to go up the Mississippi with us. When the mail got in yesterday afternoon, he wrote a card with his instructions to Captain Blastblow on it, and sent it off to the Islander by Nick Boomsby, who happened to be talking to me in the post-office at the time."
"Sent it off by Nick Boomsby," repeated Cornwood; but he did not appear to be astonished. "How came Nick to be about at that time?"
I told my late guide and pilot all that passed between me and the son of my ancient enemy, to which he listened with deep interest. He seemed to be engaged in earnest thought all the time, as though Nick's movements had some meaning to him, though not a particle to me. I told him I was in Captain Boomsby's saloon to say good-by to him at the time the robbery of the messenger occurred. He questioned me very minutely in regard to the affair, and I told him all I knew about it.
"Buckner sent for me to act as his counsel; but I thought I could make more by coming down here," added Cornwood. "I lost one case a few days ago, and I don't care to lose another yet awhile."
Cornwood laughed as he alluded to his defence of Griffin Leeds, the mulatto employed by him to do his bidding on our excursion to the interior.
"Have you any doubt that Buckner is the man who robbed the messenger of the four thousand dollars?" I asked, rather to bring him out than because I valued his opinion in a detective case.
"Not the slightest in the world; but I should not be surprised to learn that he gave Nick a hundred dollars, or something of that sort, to clear out at just this time," replied Cornwood, easily.
"I don't see how that could have been," I protested. "Nick could not have seen Buckner after the money was stolen, unless he visited him in the lock-up."
"That was easily enough done."
"But some officer would have heard what passed between them. Besides, Buckner had no money, for none was found upon him when he was arrested."
"Buckner hid the money, but he stowed away enough to see him through the trial. As the case now stands, they can't convict the man, for Nick was the most important witness. He saw Buckner take the money. I have no doubt Buckner will be discharged to-day," said Cornwood, confidently.
"Was that the reason you would not act as his counsel?" I asked, for the late pilot's statements seemed to be contradictory.
"What you have told me, Captain Garningham, entirely changes my opinion. You were present, and you have told me exactly how the affair happened. I supposed Peverell saw Buckner take the package. That makes all the difference in the world in a court of law. No one saw Buckner take the money, according to your evidence, except Nick. The supposed robber was arrested down the wharf; he was searched, all the holes and corners, including the river, were searched for the package, but it could not be found. What evidence is there that Buckner took it?"
"I don't see any, except that of Nick Boomsby; and he don't tell his story twice alike," I replied. "But, if Buckner did not take the money, I can't see who did take it. I saw the messenger lay the package on the counter; and the next thing I saw was Nick leaping over the counter."
"I don't say that Buckner did not take the package; on the contrary, I believe he did take it; only there is not evidence enough to convict him without Nick," argued Cornwood. "If I had known that Nick was to be out of the way, I certainly should have taken the case, for a man who has stolen four thousand dollars can afford to pay the lawyer well who gets him out of the scrape."
I was disgusted with this logic, though it was perfectly consistent with all I knew of the man. I did not care to say anything more about the case.
"After hearing your version of the affair, Captain Garningham, I am inclined to return to Jacksonville this afternoon, and offer my services to the prisoner. When he gets out of jail he will have money enough to pay me handsomely," chuckled the lawyer; "but perhaps I can do something better if I can recover Colonel Shepard's lost steam-yacht."
"Do you think you can recover it?" I asked, curiously.
"I am quite confident I can. I suppose you will sail as soon as the weather will permit?" continued Cornwood.
"We shall. As I said, I am convinced that Captain Blastblow has simply misunderstood his orders. I think he will proceed directly to New Orleans, possibly touching at Key West."
"He will certainly put in at Key West; but he will probably be from ten to twenty hours ahead of the Sylvania, and he will not wait for you. I should like to see Colonel Shepard."
I called the colonel up from the cabin, and as it was raining in torrents, I conducted him and the lawyer to my stateroom.
"For two hundred dollars—I can't work for nothing, and find myself, though I should be glad to do so for Colonel Shepard—I will recover and return your yacht to you at Key West, or at some point this side of there; half down to pay my expenses, and half when the Islander is delivered to you," said Cornwood.
"I haven't much confidence in you, Mr. Cornwood, and I don't care to advance any money to you," replied the owner of the lost steamer.
"Quite natural, colonel. I will do it without any advance. But in half an hour it will be too late to do anything," replied Cornwood, not at all repelled by the colonel's lack of confidence in him. "I must be in Cedar Keys to-morrow night; and I must be in Jacksonville this evening in order to do it. I shall get to Key West Sunday morning, and find the Islander there."
The plan was considered at length, and finally the colonel assented to it, and wrote the instructions for Cornwood. He hastened on shore.
CHAPTER X.
INTELLIGENCE OF THE ISLANDER.
It rained very hard all the rest of the day and all night, and it continued to blow heavily until the next morning. It was not till noon that the ocean looked quiet enough to induce us to take ladies to sea again, after the experience of the day before. We had lost twenty-four hours, and if the Islander had not put in at some inlet, or made a lee under Cape Canaveral, was half way to Key West. It was useless to think of overtaking her on the passage, unless she had spent a day in Mosquito Inlet.
Colonel Shepard's letter was addressed to Captain Blastblow, though it was an open one, directing him to await the arrival of the Sylvania at Key West. I had no faith in Cornwood; but I was willing to believe he thought he could intercept the Islander at Key West, or he would not have gone on a "wild-goose chase" at his own expense. If he recovered the steam-yacht he would get two hundred dollars for his services; if he failed, he would get nothing. So far as I could see, no risk was incurred by the colonel in allowing the Floridian to go on this mission.
The weather was delightful after we got outside of the harbor of St. Augustine. The wind was west, and the air was as balmy as summer. We placed easy-chairs on the quarter-deck for the ladies. The long swells of the ocean gave a steady and regular roll to the vessel. The party declared that the sail was "perfectly delightful," and they did not see how the sea could be so angry and savage as it had been the day before.
The mate noted the departure from St. Augustine light at half-past twelve. I had a chart laid out on my table in the stateroom, on which I had marked the route of the vessel to Key West, with the courses and distances, in red ink. It was our rule to heave the lead every hour, though the Sylvania made a regular average of ten knots an hour when she was not hurried. When we came to a point of land, or any opening in the coast, we could tell what it was.
According to the Coast Pilot, which was always kept on the shelf, by the side of the binnacle, it was eighty-five miles to Cape Canaveral. In just eight hours and a half, if we made our ordinary speed, we should be abreast of this cape. We kept as close to the coast as the depth of water would permit, for there were no shoals or other dangers to fear. If we went out far enough, we should have the current of the Gulf Stream against us.
As soon as we were fairly on our course I began to think over the mission of Cornwood. I had no doubt that he was a rascal. I considered whether or not it would be possible for him to do me or Colonel Shepard any harm, on the one hand, or any good on the other. He had received no money, and was to receive none until he earned it.
He was to arrive at Key West on Sunday morning. The Sylvania would not be likely to reach the same port before Sunday noon. If the Islander had kept on her course during the twenty-four hours we had been at anchor, she would be likely to reach Key West on Saturday afternoon. I did not know that she had any occasion to put in there at all; if she had, she was not likely to remain there many hours. If the Islander had not put in at any port during the storm, Cornwood would not arrive at his destination until after she had departed.
The interesting question was whether she had or had not made a port in the storm. If I had had no ladies on board, I should not have thought of such a thing as going into St. Augustine on account of the bad weather. Captain Blastblow, according to his own statement, was a thorough seaman, and, judging by my own feelings, it was not probable that he had made a port.
But I was not quite satisfied on this point, and I had not so much confidence in the captain of the Islander as he seemed to have in himself. Our chart indicated only one port where he could have gone in, and that was Mosquito Inlet, which had hardly water enough at high tide to allow the Islander to run through the narrow passage that leads from Hillsboro River out into the ocean. The inlet is sixty-five miles from St. Augustine light.
The town of New Smyrna is two or three miles up Hillsboro River, between which and St. Augustine and Jacksonville a small steamer plies regularly. I had about made up my mind to run up the inlet as far as the depth of water would permit, and see if I could find any one who could give me any information in regard to the Islander. I had hardly reached this conclusion when I was called to dinner. I was to dine in the cabin, and I told the party what I intended to do.
"I don't care to have you delay your voyage for me, Captain Alick," replied Colonel Shepard.
"We started out to catch the Islander, and I am as anxious to do it as you are," I added.
"I suppose you wish to get rid of us," interposed Miss Edith.
"Not at all; after I invited you to make the trip with us, and was anxious to have your company, I shall not be in haste to get rid of you. On the contrary, it must be that you wish to get rid of me, or you would not have chosen to go in the Islander."
"Forgive me, Captain Alick; I did not mean it," replied the fair maiden. "But we are so comfortable and so happy that we shall be in no haste to get out of the Sylvania."
"Isn't there danger in going into such a place, Alick," asked my father.
"I think not, sir," I answered. "I have a chart with the soundings on it, and I am sure I can run into the inlet in the day-time; and it will not be dark at seven, when we get there."
No further objection was raised to my plan. Just before the time set for reaching the point off the inlet, all hands were on the lookout for it. From my chart I learned that the inlet, on account of the shifting sand, had moved to the southward about a quarter of a mile. For a considerable distance on each side of the narrow channel leading into the inlet and river, there were breakers, such as we had seen on the coast of North Carolina, and at various points south of it.
Washburn was the first to discover the opening, and point it out to me. I looked on the shore for a couple of wrecks whose positions were laid down on the chart; but I could not find them. The shoals were caused by the sand brought out of the inlet by the current of the river. The bar changed with every storm; but I could plainly see the channel, for its waters were less disturbed and broken by the rollers from the sea.
"It looks a little risky," said Washburn, shaking his head.
"I think not; the tide will be high in about an hour, and that will give about eight feet and a half on the shoalest places," I replied. "I don't think we are drawing over eight feet now."
"Eight and a half, sure. We might scrape over the bottom an hour from now; but we shall stick as sure as we run into that narrow channel. The worst place is just on the edge of the breakers."
"Sail on the port bow, sir," said Ben Bowman.
It was a small schooner, which I thought might be a fisherman. She was headed directly for the narrow channel. As we were nearly up with the opening, I rang for the engineer to stop and back her. But the little schooner had to beat up, and as she was still about two miles off, I was soon tired of waiting for her. I rang to go ahead again, and headed the Sylvania in a direction to intercept the schooner. A few minutes brought us within hail of her.
"Schooner ahoy!" shouted Washburn.
'Schooner ahoy!'"'Schooner ahoy!' shouted Washburn."Page 122.
"On board of the steamer!" replied the skipper of the craft.
"Where are you bound?" demanded the mate.
"Into New Smyrna. We have been out fishing."
"When did you leave the town?"
"This morning, at four o'clock. Be you the steamer that tried to get into the inlet yesterday?" asked the skipper, as we were now within easy talking distance of him.
"Did a steamer try to get in yesterday?"
"Of course, or I wouldn't say so. But it was not full tide by two hours, and she stuck in the sand about as soon as she got in between the shoals."
"What did she do then?"
"She waited till the tide lifted her and then she backed out, and hooked it to the southward as fast as she could. We were at anchor inside of the inlet, and saw the whole of it. She looked just like this craft. Plenty of fresh fish on board?"
At my request Cobbington bought a considerable quantity of sheeps-head and cavallo. The only fish we had on board was shad, and we had eaten that so much during the past month that we were tired of it. These fresh fish were therefore a great treat, as we found next morning.
We started the engine again, satisfied that the Islander had not gone into Mosquito Inlet. I gave the information to Colonel Shepard.
"Then Mr. Cornwood will not be likely to intercept the Islander at Key West," said he.
"Not unless she put in at some other port, though I know of none where she could have made a harbor until after the storm was over. But she may stop over at Key West a day or two," I replied. "It all depends upon what Captain Blastblow understands his instructions to be."
"Cornwood took the train at Jacksonville for Cedar Keys this morning, and will be there this afternoon. He will reach Key West on Sunday morning," added the colonel.
"We shall be there only a few hours later; and if the weather is favorable we may get there as soon as the messenger you sent."
"I do not see that we can help the matter. If Cornwood don't get to Key West in season to intercept the Islander, he will lose his two hundred dollars, and my runaway craft will continue on her way to New Orleans."
This was all that either of us could make of it, and all we could do was to wait till we got to Key West for further information. If the Islander was twenty-four hours ahead of us, it was useless to attempt to overhaul her. The Sylvania was a great deal more comfortable for the passengers when she went along at her ordinary rate than when she was forced up to twelve knots an hour; and I was not disposed to hurry her on a useless mission. My passengers appeared to be enjoying themselves all the time. I could not see how they could help being happy.
Some of them were reading books from the library I had started at Detroit, and replenished in several places on the route to the South. Others were playing various games. Mr. Tiffany and my father could play chess all day long, and most of the night. The meals were served as elaborately as at a first-class hotel, and we had everything from the market that could be supplied in the summer in the northern states. I was decidedly of the opinion that our passengers had nothing to worry about, unless Colonel Shepard could be excused for worrying about his steamer.
At eight o'clock the first watch went on duty, in charge of Washburn, who was as competent to handle the vessel as I was. He had the chart, with the courses and distances marked on it. When I left the pilot-house, Cape Canaveral, or rather the light on it, was in sight. At nine o'clock we were just abreast of it, which proved that our dead reckoning was correct. From this point the course was south by east, one hundred and five miles.
As soon as the Sylvania was on her new course, I left the pilot-house, where I had gone at nine, and turned in. I had slept all the night before, and the laughter of the younger of the passengers on the hurricane-deck above me did not permit me to sleep. But I heard Colonel Shepard call his daughter away at ten, and then I went to sleep. I could not tell how long I had slept when the stopping of the steamer waked me.
"What schooner is that?" shouted Washburn, from the pilot-house.
I was on deck soon enough to hear the reply.
"The Violet, New Orleans to New York," came from the vessel hailed.
"Did you see a small steamer about the size of this one?" asked Washburn.
"We passed one about three hours ago. She looked enough like you to be the same vessel."
"Thanks," shouted Washburn, as he rang the bell to go ahead.
I looked at my watch, and found it wanted but a few minutes of twelve, and I went into the pilot-house.
CHAPTER XI.
DIFFICULT NAVIGATION.
"Three hours ago, which means that the Islander is about thirty miles ahead of us," said Washburn, when I went into the pilot-house.
"She must have put in somewhere, and it was not at Mosquito Inlet," I replied. "I don't quite understand it."
"I think I do," added Washburn, as he called in Buck Lingley and gave him the wheel.
He led the way to the chart on the shelf, upon which a light was cast from the binnacle. He pointed out Matanzas Inlet, at the southern point of Anastasia Island, and fifteen miles south of St. Augustine.
"She went into that inlet," said Washburn.
"But there isn't water enough in it to float the Islander," I replied.
"I think she did not go in far, if at all. The wind was off shore yesterday, and under the lee of the land there is no sea of any consequence, except what is caused by the rollers. If the captain of that schooner has given the time correctly, it shows that the Islander went to sea about an hour and half before we did. That will put her thirty miles ahead of us," Washburn explained; and his reasoning seemed to be correct.
"The Islander put in somewhere, or she would have been two hundred and forty miles farther on the way to Key West than we are," I added. "She did not stand off to sea, as there was not the least need of that, for the wind has been off shore since we came out of the St. Johns."
"I am confident we are right. Now the question is, shall we chase her?" asked Washburn. "She is thirty miles ahead of us; and we have nearly three hundred and fifty miles to make to reach Key West."
"There is no wind to-night to help us, and it will take as much coal to get the two extra knots out of the Sylvania as it will to make the ordinary and regular ten knots an hour, to say nothing of the wear and tear of boiler and machinery," I replied, musing.
"But the Islander will get to Key West before Cornwood does, if she puts in there, and we may miss her altogether."
"I should like to get near enough to her to watch her movements," I added. "I think if we crowd the Sylvania for six or seven hours we shall get a sight of her. I am inclined to hurry her."
"I am decidedly in favor of it, for she may escape her owner altogether if we don't follow her up."
"Eight bells! All the port watch!" called Buck Lingley, who had been relieved at the wheel.
I went on deck, and when Ben Bowman came up I told him I wanted him to give the vessel all the steam she would carry. There was a light breeze from the westward, but not enough to help the speed of the steamer, and we did not put on any sail. I took my place at the wheel while Hop Tossford was the lookout on the topgallant forecastle.
In a short time the screw began to buzz, and when Buck and Dyer Perkins went below, after heaving the lead, the Sylvania was making eleven knots. I expected her to do better than this. At four o'clock in the morning, when the starboard watch were called, we were off Indian River Inlet. Nothing had been said about trying the fish since we left Jacksonville. There was not water enough in Indian River to float the steamer, and I gave up all thought of renewing the exciting sport we had had in these waters when we came over from the St. Johns. At four o'clock I turned in and slept till eight.
I found the barometer had been dropping again, and the wind came from the eastward, which was not a good way to have the wind while we were off the coast. While I was eating my breakfast, the Sylvania came up with Jupiter Inlet, where Washburn changed the course to south, three-quarters east. The log-slate showed that we had made eleven and a half knots. I figured up the distances, and concluded that the Islander must be about twelve miles ahead of us. I did not give the other steamer the credit of making more than ten knots an hour.
The wind had freshened considerably since I left the deck early in the morning, and I ordered all sail to be set. Soon after the log showed that we were making twelve knots, which was about the best speed we had ever made. We kept her going at this rate till noon, and I had the wheel during the time. In the course of the forenoon we had visits from all the passengers, but the wind was raw and cold, and they did not remain long on deck.
"Sail, ho!" shouted Hop Tossford, from the topgallant forecastle.
"Where away?" I asked, looking ahead, though as it was not clear I saw nothing distinctly.
"Sharp on the weather bow," replied the lookout.
I looked in the direction indicated, and could just make out a sail. I examined it through the glass, and was satisfied it was the Islander. I had calculated that we ought to be up with her by noon; but it was evident to me that her captain had been hurrying her, as I did not anticipate he would do. I soon assured myself that she was not on the same course as the Sylvania. She was headed at least a point more to the westward. We had on all the sail it was prudent to carry, and Ben Bowman declared the engine was doing its best.
"We have been gaining on her every hour," I said to the mate. "If we keep on we shall overtake her in a few hours, though she is making her best speed."
"But she is going more to the westward than we are," added Washburn, looking at the chase through the glass.
"I think she is making a mistake, for I should not care to be mixed up among those shoals if it comes on bad weather; and it looks like it now."
"The wind is hauling more to the southward, and I shall look for a fog before night."
We kept on our course as laid down in the Coast-pilot, without regard to the Islander. I called the passengers at two in the afternoon, when we again changed our course to south, quarter west, to show them the Islander. She was still headed a point farther to the westward than we were. As our course from this point to Key West was on the circumference of a quarter-circle, I supposed Captain Blastblow only intended to take the shortest way by keeping inside of us, and I did not alter anything. But I was confident that he would have to run outside again in order to avoid the shoals of Virginia and Biscayne Keys. I had studied the chart carefully every day, and had found places where there was not more than four, or even more than two, feet of water at low tide, as it was at this time.
At four o'clock the Islander was not more than a mile to the south of us, though she was two miles nearer shore than we were. We were abreast of the light-house at Cape Florida, and I expected to intercept the Islander when she came out from the dangerous shoals, rendered doubly dangerous by the threatening weather. But the other steamer gave no indications of changing her course, and I soon saw her close to the light-house.
"She seems to be behaving very strangely, Captain Alick," said the mate, as we were watching her from the pilot-house.
"It seems to me that she is losing time. There are shoals and rocks just to the southward of her," I replied.
"There she goes about!" exclaimed Washburn, as she pointed her bow to the eastward. "I think we had better take in all the sail we carry, for we have only a mile of southing to make while the other steamer makes two miles of easting."
All hands were called for this duty, for the wind was coming heavier and heavier every minute. The mate and the four men made quick work of it. The Islander carried no sail, though her people must have seen the Sylvania two hours before.
"I am glad Captain Blastblow has come to his senses, and is standing out from the shore," I added. "About five miles to the eastward of the line of Keys, which form part of a circle, from Cape Florida to Pickle Reef, more than forty miles, is a series of reefs and rocks. There is a passage between the reefs and the Keys, through which vessels of light draught may pass. But I believe in having plenty of sea room when the weather looks as it does now."
When we were abreast of Cape Florida the Islander suddenly put up her helm, and stood off to the south-west. This movement indicated that she had no intention of coming any nearer to the Sylvania. I was perplexed at this change of course, because I could hardly conceive of such a thing as Captain Blastblow taking the inside route in that threatening weather. There was nothing to protect his vessel from the heavy seas, and in some places he would have hardly water enough to float the Islander.
In about another hour Fowey Rocks were between the two vessels. There was no way of getting out of the inside passage except that by which he went in, or at the southerly end of the series of reefs.
"It looks to me just as though the Islander wanted to keep out of our way," said Washburn, when we had settled the question as to what the Islander intended to do.
"That had not occurred to me before," I replied. "Why should she try to avoid us?"
"That's what bothers me. I can't see the least reason for such conduct on the part of her captain," added the mate.
"It looks to me like very risky business to go into such a place as that with a south-east gale threatening," I continued, as I went to the shelf to find a chart of the Florida reefs, which I had carefully studied. "There is one place where the Islander will have only six feet of water at low tide, perhaps seven and a half or eight at this time of tide. I think she will have to get in behind one of the Keys, and anchor to wait for the tide to rise."
"I hope nothing will happen to the Islander. I suppose Captain Blastblow knows what he is about, and probably has a pilot for the inside of the reefs," said Washburn.
"If it was good weather, it would be another thing, and I should not have hesitated to follow him, for we have the Coast Pilot, and the best charts of the Coast Survey."
"It is getting to be very rough out here," added Washburn, as the Sylvania began to roll heavily in the billows that swept in from the open sea. Our passengers were taking their afternoon naps, but they soon found out that we were in an angry sea. I went into the cabin to comfort them. Mrs. Shepard wanted to know if we could not put in at some port, as we had done on Thursday.
"There is no port we can enter before we reach Key West, madam. With the wind as it is now, and blowing hard, I am afraid to go any nearer the reefs than we are now."
"I hear that a great many vessels are wrecked on the Florida Reefs," added the lady.
"That is quite true, Mrs. Shepard; and for that reason I shall not approach them any nearer than we are now. As long as we have plenty of sea room, I do not apprehend any particular danger."
The rain began to fall about six, and the weather was so thick we could no longer see the Islander. The last time we had seen her she must have been some miles farther to the northward than the Sylvania, and I was satisfied that Captain Blastblow had not gained anything by going inside of the reefs. As I made it out from the chart, he had twice been obliged to go to the eastward over two miles, in order to keep in the deepest water. I suspected that he had been aground, and had to wait for the tide; for at dark, when we saw the steamer for the last time, we were at least five miles farther south.
"We will keep her going as briskly as the heavy sea will permit, until about midnight; and then we will ease off till daylight. Then I think we shall get another sight of the Islander," I said to the mate, as he was about to turn in at eight.
"I don't think there is any danger of her getting ahead faster than we do," replied the mate, with a yawn. "I believe I shall sleep well, if I don't get pitched out of my berth."
He was leaving the pilot-house, when the distant report of a gun came to our ears. I concluded at once that the Islander was in trouble.