Chapter 11

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.

"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.