Part 9

_February 28th._ We turned out at daylight and took the ship over to West Palm Beach where we put in a mighty hot, weary morning getting provisions, water and ice. The wind was heavy from south, square in our teeth, and rain squalls added to the general soaking wet conditions. H. caught himself just as he was going to say something about not going any farther and smothered it up. We were on fine edge, both of us. I have heard about these tropic conditions and the way they will break a man up and am rather glad to give them a try. We were off at 11 o’clock and made better headway against sea and wind than we expected. At the foot of Lake Worth we entered a long canal cutting with banks beautifully overgrown with all manner of trees, bushes, vines and flowering plants. The breeze came a bit fresher and we gradually relaxed the nerve tension and by evening were able to speak quite civilly to each other. At night we tied up to the canal bank with a great magnolia tree half filling the cockpit. Our first mosquitos appeared in force, but we rigged nettings and kept the cabin free of them and also free of any breath of air. It was pretty stifling hot, and having still a few nerves on hand, my night was not of the best.

_March 1st._ Comes bright, hot, and with the same steady southerly wind. When we went to cast off our shore lines we found that the one made fast in the tree was only a foot or two from a wasps’ nest with critters on it as big as bats. How we escaped an awful stinging up last evening I don’t know for we were pulling and hauling with our heads and shoulders among the branches. Rather a problem, the casting off of that line. We settled it with one barrel from old Bess, a quick jump to the limb and a noble effort by little putt-putt astern. Then it was away through the Everglade swamps with now and then a turn which brought us within sound of the pounding surf just over the narrow sand strip separating us from old ocean. Passed Hillsboro Inlet, and new Inlet, taking bottom in good shape at last named. The way was walled with green and many flowers gave touch of bright color. Soon after starting we had the luck to see a good-sized alligator floating not more than 10 feet from the boat. He was probably 5 or 6 feet long, an ugly looking cuss. H. won 10 Coca-Colas for seeing him first. Funny little crabs with bright red legs and white nippers scurried back and forth under the long mangrove roots. With exception of pelicans and herons this was the only sign of life and the absence of it makes much of the dreariness and it is dreary. About 4 in the afternoon we came to our last canal, where a heavy chain across effectually stops navigation. $3.60 bought us our round trip ticket and a ride on the roller coaster and we were soon far into the sticks again. At night we again tied to trees and the mosquitos descended in clouds. Scotty insisted on constantly going in and out and leaving a gap in the netting. The air was hot and heavy, the cabin suffocatingly warm. Mosquitos as big as buzzards and with venomous stings. One gave me a fierce touch of malaria right on the knuckle of my big toe. I was good and tired, but I had the twitchums all over as soon as I turned in. At midnight we turned out and battled the brutes with Japsticks and with fair success.

_March 2nd._ Comes with blazing sun heat. We are both in good working shape again and a broken night’s rest means little discomfort. Had good breakfast and were away into sun’s glare at 8. My eyes suffer some even behind blue glasses. Like yesterday, the road is pleasant to travel, bordered by the deep green of mangroves and giving every now and then a peep up some little branch into the mysterious silences of the great swamp. We crossed lagoons and big lakes in which we always got aground as the finger posts were either broken down or unplaced. It was particularly attractive just before entering Biscayne Bay for the trees were higher and overhung the river more completely. We both compared it with the upper waters of the Charles. Biscayne Bay looked mighty big as we left the narrow little creek and pushed out against a strong southwester. It didn’t seem possible not to find our 3½ ft. of water in such a great sea, but that’s just where we missed it, for we have found on the whole trip no more puzzling navigation than we had to tackle this afternoon. The water was a light brunette and the shoals didn’t show, while the posts were at long intervals and often no way of telling which side to leave or how close to go. We jumped her along about 2 miles and then stuck her. Pushed off, ran across narrow channel and slid her way up on other side. Then heavy squalls swept up the bay with sheets of rain and we ran below for lunch. Lunch over, along came a Christian in a launch and offered to give us a pull. He said he knew just how and made fast to my anchor warp about half out to the anchor on his bow cleet. Then he called for plenty of slack so as to get a good start. I accommodated my friend, of course, and away he went 10 knots an hour. Things happened when that line taughtened and I thought the launch would throw a somersault. It stayed right side up, however, but he ran out towards my anchor and picked up the bight of the warp in his propeller and went out of business until, with head under water, he managed to free the mess. I certainly did pity that man. When all was fair again he gave me another pull in Bristol fashion and twitched me off so hard I again shot across the deep water and piled up on the opposite flat. He went off then and H. and I prepared to labor, but quicker than scat, all the squall clouds that had come over from the southwest banked in the northeast and came charging back with such deluge of rain and spiteful wind that we ran below for shelter. The rain was soon over and a good cool, squally northeaster took place of the warm souther. We sprung single reef mainsail on her and finally landed her afloat, but heading towards home. Carried anchor line to quarter and tripped the hook when her head was right, and nosed along with a little peak of sail. In about half a mile we came to the post with sign meaning “keep away.” We kept away and have kept away ever since for we landed her harder than ever and made a bad matter worse by crowding her on still more with sail. The day was about over and we had had enough, so after finding that the channel ran close to the stake we called it quits, and went below for supper and the night with the lights of Miami in view. We are broadside to wind and sea. The former threatens to blow on a gale but the latter is insignificant on account of shoal water and a handy weather shore.

_March 3rd._ Passed comfortable night except for an occasional loud slap as some wave would smack square on her bilge. Turned out to a downright owly northeast blow and pouring rain. Rather gloomy prospects for wrecking operations, but soon after breakfast I felt Mascot getting uneasy and quickly running out big anchor and putting our ballast all on starboard deck, we hauled into deeper water without any trouble at all. We certainly had a morning tide 6 inches higher than the previous evening one. I figure the heavy southwesters of last week blew the bay waters up into the swamps for hundreds of square miles. The sharp turn to strong northeast blew the bay water out and to fill up the hole all the swamp water got on the move. When the incoming tide in the bay met the outgoing swamp current the two just naturally humped right up. With Mascot afloat we took launch a mile or so down the bay and sounded out a little water to travel in. It was a bit lumpy and we were soaked on our return. Goose winged our sail and we were off for Miami where we arrived about noon and dropped hook off wharves.

I guess this is the southern end of the cruise. I want to go a-fishing and I want to go down among the Keys, but the season is getting on and indeed the road to the northward is long. The south point on my compass is all rounded off from steady use, and you can hardly read the letter “S” it is so worn. I must rest satisfied with having brought the boat down and, I hope, taking her back.

_March 5th to 11th._ We wasted no time, but put the Mascot into shipyard at once where we overhauled and painted. The yard was some ways up the Miami River where no breeze reached us and where the hot sun poured fiercely down and sopped every ounce of ambition from us both. At night we had to screen the cabin on account of the mosquitos and we tossed on our transoms until well into each morning. The air so lifeless and saturated with the pungent smell of copper paint that I was sick to my stomach in the mornings which was no happy beginning for a long, hot day. I have been looking the sun straight in the eye for 5 months with result that my own eyes pain me constantly and I am always behind blue glasses and canvas patches. It is all a bit tedious and makes home look a good ways off. Miami, like all the towns we have visited, seems to be in the midst of a real estate boom. The sun pours down and is beaten back into your face and eyes from new cement sidewalks and buildings. A jumble of architecture without any apparent why. No quiet, no shade, no cool narrow street into which to turn. No escape from the raw crudity of it all except to the boat where the paint is blistering on the deck and the motor launches are shaking the very air with unmuffled exhaust. The Royal Palms offers a bit of pleasant contrast with a rather small but well done garden not unlike Monte or Mentone and a good view of a sea gorgeously blue. To go fishing from here requires a hired launch and men and is too expensive and the season is so well along I dare not take the time to go down among the Keys in Mascot.

On returning alone to the boat one night, H. having gone to the movies, Scotty failed to meet me at the rail. To my call I soon heard her little feet scrabbling across decks and before I could catch her in my arms she fell into the cockpit and with a little paw on my foot died. “Pauvre petit Miami-mi.” The heat, the noise, the smell, too much for little Scotty. You who love animals will know how we missed that little bunch of fur, and you who don’t are of little account anyway. We gave her a sailor’s burial in the Miami River and by mutual understanding have not mentioned her name since.

_March 11th._ Right merrily did we jump to halliards and quick as scat did we trip our hook and send it swinging to the bowsprit end for we were homeward bound with kicker astern and a smashing breeze on our quarter. Hard earned experience stood us in good service and we successfully negotiated the pernickety waters at the upper end of Biscayne Bay and plunged into the mangrove bordered swamp channels beyond. About 5 p.m. we came upon the 90 ft. powerboat _Osprey_ hard aground and swung across the canal about a mile from the tollhouse and barrier chain. In trying to squeeze by his bow we also fetched up, and between us we effectually put that canal out of commission. After much pushing and hauling we worked by but immediately were swept ashore again by the tide. This time we had to run a line from masthead to a tree and heave down a little. Mighty glad to get going, for a night in that canal with its clouds of “skeeties” is no joke and I sure pitied those poor _Osprey_ folks who couldn’t float before midnight. We anchored in the beautiful lagoon near the New River Inlet where we saw a wonderful sunset and ate a wonderful supper of beefsteak and proper fixings. The night fell calm and hot and I had to turn out and put on nettings to keep the beggars out.

_March 12th._ Up with daylight. Think H. has been bitten by a tsetse fly, for he sure has the sleeping sickness. _Osprey II_ came down lagoon about seven o’clock and we let him pass us before picking our hook. _Osprey_ promptly went aground when taking the cutting at foot of lagoon. She backed off and we went ahead and gave him the good water, but tide was running sharply and he lost control and piled up again. We left him frittering away at the mud and sand. We had some trouble of our own later, but it all goes much easier this way. The sun isn’t glittering on the water ahead. We know how to avoid many of the worst places and when we do stick, each one of us knows just what to do and when to do it. This trip back ought to be a dandy. We have both spoken today of our feeling of relief from strain. There is no wind today, but it is fairly cool under the awning. Saw three alligators, one an old whopper, and one so near the boat we could have struck him with the boat hook. Later we saw three more “gators” and H. put a bullet slap into the head of one. We thought he was our meat sure for he was in only six inches of water. The little 22 cal. pellet failed, however, to stop him. Towards three o’clock we came into the lower reaches of Lake Worth and had a beautiful trip down its smooth waters. The motorboats and speed launches filled with gay parties passed us without a look. Offsprings of Mammon, the nasty rich. Anchored off Poinciana where things begin to look draggy. Today was a good run indeed for the little putt-putt. Over 40 miles in 11 hours.

_March 13th._ Turned out at daylight again. No use for the bunk these hot, lifeless mornings. Got provisions, ice, etc., and up anchor by 10:30. “She’s the Liverpool packet, My Boys, let her go.” North from Palm Beach the sail along the shore is most beautiful. More flowers are in bloom than when we came down and I guess it was a “riot of color” this morning. I am mighty glad to have seen it, but am not sorry to be leaving it. When I asked a storekeeper why everybody didn’t leave it, he answered, “By God they just can’t. In three years they lose all their money farming and then they ‘gotter’ stay.” Some of these farming propositions look short of criminal. A sample of Everglades soil sent to Washington for analysis was returned to Miami with report that there was no value to it for any crop except slight trace of moisture. The old trade wind blew heavily from south, but for comfort’s sake we kept awning up and let her jog along with motor. It is no joke to pile up under sail in heavy breeze and have to push, pull and kedge in blazing sun. Down past Jupiter Inlet with rushing fair tide and on into Hobe Sound which we thought more attractive than Lake Worth. The trout were jumping beautifully all day. Everybody was fishing, but in all the while we have been in Florida waters we have not seen a fish caught. Way up northerly end of Hobe Sound we anchored for the night at 5 o’clock to escape the “skeeties” which would follow a night spent in the swamps beyond.

_March 14th._ A good night with only one turnout to furl awning on account of wind. A little more freshness to the air this morning yet we are still sleeping with only sheet as cover and this morning a letter from home gives temperature there as near zero. Under way by seven and promptly hidden away in the swamp. There is nothing new to say of this sort of thing. I never get tired of watching the color but I have no words to describe that. Great green-headed tsetse flies with yellow striped bodies make things occasionally quite merry, but otherwise there is little doing. We remember most of the bad bends from bitter experience and so we go chugging along most contentedly comfortable and I wouldn’t be surprised to pick up a pound or so of that weight I dropped on way down. Beautiful white herons, cranes and smaller blue herons with now and then an eagle make something for the eye to follow, but I sadly miss all signs of other animal life along the way. H. saw a coon shinny up an old palm tree and disappear down the hollow trunk. Besides that we have seen no fur. We most successfully negotiated the narrows under power and double-reefed the mainsail after crossing St. Lucie Inlet. This Inlet is very attractive looking both in itself and surroundings. A boiling swirl of tumbling combers break on shoals through which run the deeper channels of darker blue and emerald green. To the south are the Jupiter Narrows with hundreds of miles of interesting mangrove swamps. To the west runs the St. Lucie River along the banks of which are located the Cow Creek Indians. Stretching to the north are the broad waters of Indian River. We wanted to stop and look the country over, but a day or two is nothing for the purpose and the strong, fair wind too tempting.

We started to hoist sail when slam, bang down on deck came topping lift block and masthead band. Away went boom and sail into water to leeward. I don’t see now how that band jumped the masthead, but it did. Luckily the boom didn’t break and we crutched it again with a strap and peak halliards. H. don’t fancy masthead business much. Says it looks high from deck and seems a good deal higher from aloft. Must keep him up there a day or so for practice. We let her run with kicker to Fort Pierce where we anchored and H. went aloft to put back the block on a strap for temporary use. Then we had a fine sail before a stiff breeze for rest of the day. The sailing was mighty quiet and restful work after motor-going. No matter how perfectly the little engine is working you somehow have it constantly in mind and are unconsciously listening for a skip and speculating on probable cause. To escape mosquitos, we anchored outside Indian River Narrows and took a heavy rain squall as we dropped hook. The squall killed most of the wind and the rain turned the hot, lifeless air into a steam bath. It promised a mighty uncomfortable night, but the Japsticks drove “skeeties” out of cabin and double nettings kept them out, so we got in a pretty good line of sleepings.

_March 15th._ Comes warm, muggy and full of cloud but with promise of better things and a good stiff breeze. We used power through the Indian River Narrows and “good bye” to our last cocoanut palm as we ran out into the upper Indian River and spread our two-reefed sail to the ever freshening breeze. Everything bully. As I write we are bowling along five to six knots. The sun is shining, the birds twittering somewhere and lots of happiness for me. ----! ----! Those lines and marks represent a fearful crash when we heeled to an extra heavy puff and a whole fowl merrily boiling in the big pot on the oil stove broke loose and went bottom up on the floor. Oh, dear! oh, dear! was there ever such misfortune. All my happiness suddenly turned to sorrow and greasy soup.

For the rest of the day with wind on port quarter blowing spiteful in the puffs, we stormed it up river and anchored once more off Cocoa for the night, having done some 50 miles for the day.

_March 16th._ Up with the day which broke with sharp rain squalls and freshening breeze hauling to north and northeast. My right eye has again given me trouble and I am once more harnessed to hot compresses and stingy drops. I am all covered up with little nubbins where “skeeties” have lunched and some big nubbins where a spider has taken a meal. It may be beri-beri, but I favor the spider idea, for H. saw a big black one this morning like a soup plate. He lives aft under cockpit seat days, and comes nights and Sundays to bite me.

It breezed on fresh and as boat is all out of trim with almost no ballast, it seemed foolish to buck to windward all day without centreboard so tied up to leeward of the dock and went to knitting and clothes washing. The cool, crisp wind makes everything seem much better. In afternoon I got in a bully walk along shore to Rockledge. This Cocoa and its shore are attractive. Beautiful orange groves and some plantations. The air was full of the scent of orange blossoms and flowers. Beautiful places line the roadway by the water and nice boathouses with cement breakwaters shelter all manner of motor craft. The speedboats are to race in a day or so and the little vermin were whizzing up and down river in great shape. The night came ugly, with sharp rising glass a good sign in these parts for northeast troubles.

_March 17-19._ We lay out a heavy Florida norther at Cocoa, for this branch of Indian River is over 60 miles long and buttered with water only from 6 inches to 6 feet deep and it is no joke to get piled up out in the middle in a gale of wind. Morning of 19th the barometer showing symptoms of dropping I just naturally had to take a chance and was away with the first streak of light and a deluge of rain. Gee, but it did rain and it was hard work for little putt-putt to push us against sea and wind. No use looking at it any longer, however, and every mile puts us nearer home. Found ourselves short two important articles, kerosene and knitting cotton. The production of the latter in Florida is almost nil. It is quite gratifying to find we both eat more and enjoy meals aboard after five months of my cooking. To continue keeps me on my mettle and makes three meals a day less a chore. The shore grub, unless at the swell hotels is abominable, and we begrudge every cent paid for it. Wish I could get inflammation out of my eye which constantly troubles me. Rain poured steadily for three or four hours when clouds broke and we had an undeniably fair afternoon. Shook out our canvas and all the motorboats came close aboard for the “coosies” to snap pictures of us as a curiosity. Truly it seems strange to see such a sail in these diggings. Since leaving Chesapeake Bay, H. and I have not seen a bit of canvas so big. We left that much overrated Indian River through the very attractive Haul Over Cut and successfully negotiated the shallows of Mosquito Lagoon. Night caught us just above Eldora and in sight of the strange Indian shell mound. Mosquitos caught us, too, swarms and clouds of them. We drove them from the cabin with Japsticks and our nettings working finely we had most comfortable night with air quite fit to breathe.

_March 20th._ A good morning and we were off by seven. I came below to write this foolish tale and we have been going aground constantly ever since. Have had to push, poke, pull and shift ballast. Under these conditions, this being an author is some job. At this moment I am covered with blue mud and “skeetie” bites. Oh, you dear old Florida, how we love you. There she goes jumping bottom again. Pulled into Daytona about 3:30 and anchored off Yacht Club. Air fresher here and my eye mending up nicely.

_March 21st._ Comes southerly. Beautifully fair. The glass is on up-jump, however, and great tumbling masses of squall cloud are hanging near southern horizon. Twice we have seen easterly weather forecasted by just such conditions and we both remarked the fact. H. to masthead where he replaced topping-lift block band and riveted it solidly. Then on bicycles along Daytona’s wonderful beach to Clarendon Hotel, a very good and new shop but a robber’s roost. Here we disported ourselves in the ocean nit. We each took a warm tub and soap. Then a nice cold lunch in a cool, shady little grill-room where the constant slamming of a screen door disturbed seemingly nobody but me. I must be very queer. Then home quick, quick, on account of rain squalls all about. Provisioned up; went to P. O., and as we came on street again we saw the very meanest of looking clouds banking up at northard and eastward. It was hurry to wharf, into launch and off on board. The wind broke before we reached Mascot and we caught her on the fly and hung on. Threw stuff on board, scrabbled after it and to cover just as the sheeting rain and wind tore down river. There it was again at east just what doctor said in the morning. Things cleared away to a lovely, calm evening and we went on shore to walk by moonlight under the palms. The people all out on streets after the shower just like toads at home.