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1672-8 History-City of Miami Beach 1 ��P"/,ze FLORIDA ATLANTIC UNIVERSITY Z P.O.BOX 3091 b�+tea BOCA RATON,FLORIDA 33431-0991 5 oil y� THE SCHMIDT COLLEGE OF ARTS AND HUMANITIES DEPARTMENT OF HISTORY (407) 367-3840 Fax (407) 367-2752 5 August 1992 Mr. Howard Kleinberg 14520 SW 79th Court Miami, Florida 33158 Dear Mr. Kleinberg: Please find enclosed the copy of The Spanish River Papers with the short article by Daniel F. Austin and David M. McJunkin entitled the "Legends of Boca Ratones. " I happened to be at the Historical Society when Elliott called. Nan Dennison was extremely upset that I had mentioned the manuscript because it was in storage at the Royal Palm Beach library and she did not know if she could find it. (The Historical Society of Palm Beach County really does not have a home and its resources are scattered in at least four different depositories, including an unairconditioned attic at the Flagler Museum. ) I told her I would look for my copy of the manuscript so that she would not have to search through the storage room (which she has to do on her own time as she needs to stay at the historical society during its regular hours) . I did the book before xeroxing was common and so I have a typescript of the original, not an exact copy. I found my copy and made you a xerox of the chapter on Biscayne Bay. As you will note, the pages are not the same as the original, though I have given the manuscript page numbers in the text. I'm a little embarrassed about sending you this copy. We have always claimed (for reasons of Pierce's family) that the manuscript was edited. In reality, I think you will see that it goes beyond that. This copy has very few changes noted and I think you can safely quote anything you wish and attribute it to the original manuscript, at the HSPBC. I shall be out of town from the 10th to 18th, but should you have any questions, please feel free to call after then. I do hope that this will help you in your work. I have enjoyed your columns over the past few years in the Herald and found Miami: The way we were a delight.AS 'ncerely, Donald W. Curl, Professor Boca Raton • Fort Lauderdale • Davie • Palm Beach Gardens A Member of the State University System of Florida An Affirmative Action/Equal Opportunity Institution a ` I I CHAPTER VII The moving of my family and the Bradleys -from-tire-south-end-of-the-Lake to, Fort Lauderdale and Biscayne Bay was quite an undertaking. Captain Hendrickson's Illinois was chartered and when t- a- -_.important household `cc't i goods were on board, we immediately pot to s$V. The ss-& was rolling high and only a few minutes after the boat crossed the turbulent bar of the in- let every--este of the Bradley were deathly seasick. The Illinois made splendid time for a boat her size and late that afternoon we anchored at the station landing. The rest of the day was spent in lan44ng 'the Bradleys and their household goods and in cleaning up the inside of the cabin. This was not a pleasant task after five seasick kids had been rolling around there for half a day. We remained there all night as darkness came before all the Bradley goods could be landed. The family of the former keeper, Wash Jenkins, was still there. Jenkins was very sick and unable to walk and he had not made any arrangementSfor taking care of his family when they arrived at the Bay, so they remained waiting until Jenkins could go to the Bay and get a house for them. He asked passage on the Illinois as he said he was anxious to go to the Bay for medical attentions ;and rie most certainly needed it jif n..sean, .ever did. , He was swelled up as big as a barrel and could hardly breathe. By ten o'clock the next morning we had the sick man on board and were underway down river with a fair tide and wind, making record time. After an uneventful run of twenty miles we entered Biscayne Bay through Norris cut, the most northern inlet to the Bay, and sailed up to Biscayne where 178 1 ! 179 we landed Wash Jenkins . Father and the Captain made a cradle with their hands and carried him up to the Gleasons ' house. We then sailed across the Bay to the Station landing, located behind some mangrove islands the mouth of Indian creek, a good sized body of salt water extending four miles to the south between the Bay and ocean. The Station was just like the other Houses of Refug,4 tlie: cgast': t All were built a ^may- lik hei-situations-- were-very similar. However, thetBiscayne House was an improvement on that 4' rc of the Orange Grove Station. The keeper ere-`had to walk five miles on the beach to reach his boat, here it was only half a mile from the house to the boat landing. The nearness of heavy mangrove swamps indicated a bountiful supply of mosquitoes might be expected in mid-summer. "Beautiful Biscayne Bay," so the residents are fond of calling it. It is beautiful when seen under favorable conditions on a bright sunny day with its sparkling crystal clear blue green water gently rippling and great snowy clouds floating slowly overhead against the deep blue background of the sky. Then.-it ismbeautiful- beyond compare. But take it on the other hand when its X , - waters are lashed to fury by a hurricane. ,Great masses of inky black storm clouds rushing-madly by and filled with incessant flashes of vivid lightn- _r- ing and accompanied by deafening crashes of rolling thunder tim it is grand and awe inspiring, not beautiful. The most northern residence on the Bay is the Sturtevant place located a few hundred feet north of the Gleason home. The Sturtevant family moved back � 1 to their old home in Cleveland after the death of Mr. Sturtevant leaving this fine estate in charge of a caretaker. It was quite a show place at this time with all kinds of tropical fruits, flowers, and shrubbery growing on the grounds. The Hunt and Gleason place was the Biscayne post office, the end 180 of the mail route from Key West. The mail from Key West was due each Thurs- day and if the weather had been good the mail schooner Flora, commanded by Captain Smart, arrived on time. If the weather had been very stormy from the north and east, the Flora might arrive as much as a week behind schedule. Next to the Gleasons on the south was the new home of the Barnotts, the former keepers of the House of Refuge, and then Dr. Potter's place, which was not occupied at the time. To the south was the mouth of the Little River, and it was well named for it was nothing more than a creek coming from the Ever- glades. A short distance southeast of Little River was Bird Key, a sand bar with a few straggling mangroves growing on it/NA-then the home of Dan Clark, an old time sailor. About two miles south of Bird Key was a point making out into the Bay. This point was covered with tall coconut trees, and back of these trees was a large house, the home of Mike Sears and his family. They were French. Back in the woods from the Sears place lived Jailer Sanders and Bill Pent and their families, and a young Frenchman named Billie Mattair. Next to the south was the home of Michael Oxer. He was German or Dutch and his wife was Irish and the mother of Mrs. Barnoot. Michael Oxer was one of the citizens of the Bay that I never saw in the two years that we lived there. I never had any business at his place, and it did not appear that he ever left it to visit other parts of the Bay. At the mouth of the Miami River was Miami. The Peacocks had moved since my former visit five years previous, to a place about five miles south which is now known as Coconut Grove. At this time the "grove" was one lonely coco- nut tree. Mr. Ewan and his mother were the sole inhabitants on the north side of the river, living a quiet life in the old Fort Dallas building. When I said the sole inhabitants, I forgot the county clerk who was living there in his office, the east room of the old barracks. His name was T. W. Faulkner 181 and he was a southern gentleman of the old school. Like most southern gentle- men of the old days, Mr. Faulkner was fond of mint juleps, but no matter how many juleps he had imbibed, he was always the perfect gentleman. On the south side of the river lived the Brickel family, much the same as they had five years before, but now doing a large trade with the Indians since Mr. Ewan had closed his store. They were erecting a large building on the point close to the river to take care of the increased business. William H. Benest was still caretaker on the Gilbert place. About three miles up the river Mr. and Mrs. Wagner lived with their son William and grandson Henry. Nearby lived Adam C. Richards, his wife and their two children. Farther up river on the south side John Adams tried hard to make a home in a poor sit- uation. About a year later a neighbor called at his place to see how he was getting along and found him dead with a discharged shotgun in his hands and part of his head blown off. It was evident that the poor fellow became dis- couraged and took this way to end it all. Another queer fellow named Barr lived near the Wagners. Down the Bay about five miles was the next settlement. Johnny Frow and family, the Pents and Jack Peacock's family lived here. Before we arrived on the bay the Charles Peacock family had moved in from Miami and built a hotel which was known as the Peacock Inn. Here also lived a Frenchman, M. Nugent, a well educated gentleman who spoke the most perfect English. Another resident of this part of the Bay was a man named Rhodes. Some nine or ten years previous his wife had died leaving him with a very small baby to care for. Rhodes would not ask or accept the help of any woman in the care of his child, but did it all himself. In the Pent family was John Pent and his family, Ned Pent, known as Uncle Ned, and Dad Pent. These three 182 brothers in the Pent family were as different from one another as possible. Ned Pent was the boat builder and it was said he did not know the figures of a rule or square, but he built some fine model boats. A story that was told about him was that someone had died and the family went to Uncle Ned and ask- ed him to build a coffin. Now this to him was rather gruesome. He did not like it and flatly refused at first, but when they furnished him with a jug of whiskey to brace his nerves he went at it and spent most of the night drinking whiskey and working on the coffin. Unfortunately, by the time the coffin was finished Uncle Ned's ideas became confused and he thought he was building a flat bottom sailboat. When they visited him in the morning to see how he made out with his work there was Uncle Ned fast asleep on the floor beside a well-made coffin which was fitted with a good center-board, such as all well made sail boats should have. A few miles farther down the Bay was Snapper Creek and the Snapper Creek hammock. A young man named Charles Seybold lived here. He worked hard to make a home in this hammock. Farther on at what was known as the hunting grounds lived John Addison, and beyond him a mile or so to the south at a place later known as Cutler, lived William Fuzzard. This was the last settler to the south on the west side of the Bay. Fuzzard was manager for a Boston Company that had built a steam starch factory for the making of starch from comtie, or coontie root, a sort of dwarf sago that grows all over the pine woods on the west side of the Bay. This starch and the plant it is made from is called comtie by the Indians who taught the whiteman its use as food. Mr. Gleason said that the proper name for this plant was coontie, but it seems to me that the Indian's name, the one they have known the plant by for hundreds of years before the whiteman saw it, should be the proper name. The Indians made a stew of all kinds of meat, but mostly venison, and when well cooked they thickened it with comtie and then called it "Soffgie." 183 At one time the making of starch from the comtie root was the main source of income for most of the settlers on the Bay. Such as had a horse or a mule rigged up power mills, but few were fortunate enough to have any other power than their hands and arms to drive their mills. When a man decided to make starch the first operation was to construct the grinding mill. A section of a large tree about eighteen inches long would be dressed to a perfect round, then shoe nails would be driven in diagonal rows about half an inch apart un- til all the surface of the log was covered. About half the length of the nails were left above the surface. These nails were the teeth of the grinder. Then an axle was attached and on the end of it was the crank. The cylinder was then mounted on a box frame above which the hopper was attached. Close beside the grinder was a large tank which was filled by a hand pump. There was also close to the grinder a washing tank to wash the dirt from the comptie roots as they came from the woods. When the roots were washed clean they were dump- ed into the hopper. Then the grinder was cranked until the roots were ground to a pulp by the rows of shoe nails. Sliding down an inclined board into the large water tank the ground mass was thoroughly stirred then drawn off into another tank and left to settle. When the white starch had precipitated to the bottom of the tank, the water, called "redwater" from its color which was caused by tannin in the root, would be run off, the starch shoveled up and placed on cloth covered frames to dry. When dry it was barreled and shipped to Key West for sale. When starch was selling at a decent price, from eight to ten cents a pound, the starch makers had a good living without many days of work a month. At the time we moved to the Bay the starch market had busted, the Fuzzard mill had closed down, and Fuzzard was running a small store in the mill building. • 184 Before we moved to Biscayne Bay I had started to build a large canvas canoe for hunting plume birds. The canoe was eighteen feet long, forty inches wide and eighteen inches deep at bow and stern. My little sloop Dolly had been hauled out of the water for nearly two months undergoing repairs. I had been working on her for some time putting on a new forward deck. There was no time to complete the work on either boat before we left, so I planned to return and put them in shape for the trip to the Bay. One day in the early part of January Louis and Guy Bradley stopped at the station on their way to Brickel's store for groceries. I told Louis of my plan to walk back to Lake Worth to repair my boats and asked him if he would go with me. He said he would be ready whenever I came by the Lauderdale Station. It was sometime in the latter part of January that I started out one morning on my long walk to Lake Worth, a distance of sixty miles. The route from the Bay to Lake Worth was at that time a very difficult proposition as two inlets, New River and Hillsborough, had to be crossed. New River was too wide and deep to wade, and too dangerous, because of sharks, to swim. Thus a raft of some sort had to be constructed to cross. Hillsborough could be managed at low tide by wading; one just timed his arrival to meet the low tide. On my arrival at New River inlet I found an old piece of wreckage lodged in the mangroves and made the crossing on it with no difficulty. Louis joined me at the Fort Lauderdale House of Refuge and after a two and a half day trip we arrived on the Lake. He was sick all the time on this trip and I did not understand just what kind of illness he had. His face was puffed and color- less, and his fingernails were blue. He wanted to sleep all day and night and so I did the work on the boats alone. One afternoon just before dark I heard a loud "hello" from across the Lagoon. I saw a man standing on the top of the ridge and waving his hat so 185 I jumped in the skiff and rowed over. It was George Charter, a young man from Vermont who had homesteaded the beach ridge east of the Island. His homestead extended from the foot of the lake to the north end of the Lagoon; two miles and a quarter long. He called it his shoestring farm. Geroge had walked up from the Bay and was on his way to the settlement up the lake. He brought word from Mr. Bradley to Louie to hurry to Lauderdale as his family was out of food. He wanted Louie to go to Miami for supplies. I could not understand why this sudden shortage of food when we had been gone only a little more than a week, and we were not suppose to return in less than two weeks. We ate a hasty and light breakfast of flapjacks and coffee next morn- ing and started off down the beach to the south. It was a fine day forrtrip. A fresh wind was blowing from the east and the seas came rolling in three lines deep; their snowy crests gleaming in the bright sunshine. With shoes tied together by their laces and slung over our shoulders, our trousers roll- ed up to our knees, we made good time down the beach at the water's edge. The wet sand was the hardest and made the best walking. The regular beach walker always went barefooted: it was easier and faster that way. Just at sundown we stepped upon the porch of the Lauderdale Station, very tired and hungry. Louie's folks were glad to see us so soon after sending word of their plight. Supper was ready and waiting for us, though the menu was grits and palmetto cabbage; not much to build up our strength after that long tramp on short rations. We might have packed some of the food we had at the Island, but we started in such a hurry that it never occured to me. We thought of the good flour that we had left behind as we ate our poor supper. The ocean was extremely rough so we had to take an old Indian canoe through the Everglades to the Bay for the supplies. This trip was my first 111111...1111111111111111111111111 186 sight of the upper river. It was crooked; kept turning first north, then south and at no time could we see any distance ahead on account of the bends in the channel. A short way up the river, and before we reached the pine timber, we passed a large dense hammock on the north bank. This was known as "Coulee Hammock," noted for the massacre of the Coulee family here by the Seminoles about 1837. All the land hereabouts was solid rock and it became evident to me as I looked at it, that at some time in the remote past there had been an earth- quake that had opened up this fissure from the Glades to the coast making the channel now called New River. There is a legend of the Seminoles that tells how it happened in one night, hence the name,{New River!! Late in the afternoon we had passed beyond the high pine land and come to where the river banks were lined with a thick growth of cypress timber. The trees were growing close together, gaunt and gray with bare limbs draped in long festoons of Spanish moss swaying back and forth in the afternoon wind. The cypress drops its foliage in the early fall and stands bare until spring. Just at sundown we arrived at the end of the river. Here the water was pouring from the Everglades through a narrow channel and running so swiftly it taxed our strength to the utmost to push the old canoe up against it. When we reached the still water of the Glades we paused for the first bite to eat since our breakfast of grits and palmetto cabbage. The extra exertion of pushing up against the rapids had sharpened the appetite of Louie and I to a painful point. We were ravenous and could have eaten boiled owl had there been any, but all we had was a very small loaf of bread that Mrs. Bradley had baked for us. Guy had come with us, but had not helped at all. He was sick and lay in the bow of the canoe sleeping all the time until we stopped. 187 Then he was ready for his share of the supper. I divided the little loaf in- to three equal parts. Just why Guy had to come with us on that rather peri- lous trip I never did understand. He was not of the least use, in fact, he was a hinderance and a liability. We sat there in the gathering gloom of the night munching our bread and making it last as long as possible. Then, after taking a big drink of Glade water to fill up the still empty spaces in our stomach, we wearily picked up the oars and started out into the great Everglades by moonlight. As we came into the Glades we noticed a large Indian villiage on the land a mile or so to the southeast. Now we could see a number of campfires burning in the village and hear dogs barking. The light of a full moon was a great help in finding our way among the maze of islands. Some of them were mere patches of sawgrass while other were of considerable size and covered with a heavy growth of bushes and trees. Sometimes the moonlight caused us to get stuck. We would see what looked like a clear channel ahead, only to find ourselves a few minutes later firmly stuck in a mudbank. An inch or two of water looked the same as two or three feet in the moonlight. About four o'clock in the morning we decided to rest until daylight. We were very tired and sleepy and were not sure just where we were. Some place in the Everglades to be sure, but that took in a large piece of country. We managed to sleep a little before the sun rose but the mosquitoes were bother- some. For some reason never explained the mosquitoes of the Everglades are most persistent at daybreak. In this case they tormented me and standing up I looked out on small islands, water and sawgrass for as far as I could see north, south, and west. Far to the east was a dark line of heavy pine woods. While I was gazing over the vast expanse of the Glades, the mosquitoes aroused 188 Louie from his troubled sleep. I called to him to stand up and tell me if he could see anything he knew that would give us our location. Pointing to a deep bay in the pine timber to the east and south he said it was Snake Creek Bight, the entrance to Snake Creek. We were just abut six miles too far west. It was a beautiful morning, not a cloud to be seen and a gentle breeze came with the sun from the east. All kinds of aquatic birds could be seen on every hand, but they kept a safe distance from us. We did not have an opport- unity to shoot any of them for our breakfast, and were compelled to go without that much needed meal. As there was nothing to be gained by sitting there longer, we picked up the poles and headed for Snake Creek Bight. When we arrived at the head waters of the creek we still had about fifteen miles to travel before reaching Biscayne Station and something to eat. It was nine o'clock that night when we docked at my home. We were so weak from lack of food that it was all we could do to reach the station with- out stopping to rest on the way. Fortunately mother had plenty of cooked food which only needed a little warming and we were soon hard at work trying to fill that vacuum in our insides. When we were so full we could hold no more we stopped eating and as all three agreed, were still hungry. Next morning we had to be called a number of times before we were awaken- ed. When I realized the call meant something to eat, I was out of bed in a hurry and pulling the other boys until they were wide awake. When I told them breakfast was waiting for us downstairs, they needed no further urging: we were still hungry. After breakfast Louie and Guy departed for Brickel's store at Miami where they purchased supplies for their folks at Fort Lauderdale. This part of their trip was easy for they had the use of our sloop Creole. They did not re- turn from Miami until after dark so we started on the return trip the next 189 morning. We did not anticipate anything but a pleasant and quick trip back to Lauderdale.as we had the boat loaded with good things to eat and now knew the way. When we reached the Bradley's home three days later we found their grits had given out and for the last two days they had been living on Palmetto cabbage. Without delay we unloaded the canoe and Mrs. Bradley started at once to cook supper. The next morning Louie and I departed for Hypoluxo to complete our job of fixing up my boats. We stayed over night with Steve Andrews and reached the island at eleven o'clock the next day. After dinner we rowed up the lake to Captain Dye's store to buy supplies. The affairs of the little settlemant were moving ahead. The schooner Gazelle, under the conunand of Captain H. P. Dye, was making trips to Jackson- ville, carrying products to that shipping point and bringing back supplies of all kinds for the settlers on the lake. Captain Dye's store was an innovation greatly appreciated by the people, who for so many years had been compelled to make that long trip to Titusville in a small open boat for the necessities of life. Captain Hendrickson with the Illinois was also making regular trips to Titusville, but by this time it was evident to the most casual visiter that while all this was a great improvement over former years it was not enough to meet the demands of the growing population. The Gazell was not the type of boat needed for that rather dangerous run to Jacksonville on the ocean. It was too small to weather the storms and too small to carry the cargoes waiting for it. The rumor was that there would soon be a large schooner, one better adapted to the service on this run. The next day we launched the Dolly. Of course she soon filled with water, having been hauled out on land for more than a year, but we felt sure 190 that a day in the water would swell her seams enough that we could use her. After breakfast the next morning we bailed her out and loaded our camp out- fit on board. Taking the canoe in tow we sailed for the haulover at the foot of the lake where we camped and waited for a fair wind and a smooth sea. We awoke one morning a few days later to find the wind blowing from the northwest and the sea fairly smooth. There was quite a good sized ground swell coming in from the north that gave us trouble in launching the Dolly and loading her, but soon we were off down the coast. I had decided to leave the canoe at the Lauderdale Station until I could come back and give it a coat of paint on the outside. Both it and the Dolly were leaking so badly that I would not be able to bail them after Louie left me. When we arrived at the Station he landed himself and his dunnage in the canoe and I went on to Biscayne Bay in the Dolly alone. There was plenty of company at the Station as Hammon and Lainh,art had been hired by the government to repair all the Houses of Refuge on the Florida coast and had started with our home. There were six men on the job, plus Sam, the cook. William Lainh/art was the boss carpenter and working under him were two carpenters, Frank Boye and an elderly man named Bolton, both from Malabar on Indian River; and two painters, Charles Cooper of Jacksonville and Valentine, a young man from New York City. The superintendent of construction, Commodore Van Renssaler Morgan, came from Washington,as a representative of the Life Saving Service to see that the repairs on the buildings were according to specifications. Hammon would sail in occasionally to bring material or to see how the work was progressing in order to move the crew without delay to the Lauderdale Station when they had finished at Biscayne. One day he told me he was going to Lauderdale with a load and was coming right back. I engaged passage on his boat, Ina, for the purpose of bringing my canoe to the Station. OEM 191 We sailed over to Miami and spent the rest of the day and that night tied up to Brickel's dock. The wind was blowing from the northeast a little too hard for the Ina to attempt to run up the coast. A number of times that afternoon Hammon went to Brickel's store, returning each time laughing and shaking his head. Then he would relate some of the stories Mr. Brickel had been telling him about his wonderful adventures in China, Australia and New York City. The next morning the wind had moderated and we got underway. The sea was pretty rough and it took all day to beat to windward to New River. We unloaded the next morning, placed my canoe on deck and returned to the Bay that afternoon. • I remained at home for some time and planned a hunting trip with Louis 1/, for Plume birds. We had talked this trip over coming down the coast in the Dolly and decided there should be some nesting places of plume birds in the Cypress Creek region or perhaps at the head of Snook Creek (Middle River) . In the interim I kept busy getting my canoe and camping outfit in condition. I had brought with me from Lake Worth a large buck's hide and the skin of an extra wildcat that I had killed sometime before leaving Hypoluxolsland. The hair was removed from the deer skin by soaking it in water mixed with hardwood ashes. Lime would have been better but I did not have any at this time. Red mangrove batik was gathered and the deer skin tanned a rich dark mahogany. I made a cape from this skin to go around my shoulders. It served two purposes, first to keep the upper part of my body dry in rainy weather, and second, to protect my shirt from the wear of the gun on my shoulders. Around the bottom edge I made a lot of small holes about an inch apart and tied leather thongs of about a foot in length. These strings had the appear- ance of a deep fringe around the cape, but they were not for ornament, they were called "tie-ups" and were to be used in place of string or cord whenever 192 needed in the woods. This idea was not original with me, I got it from the Indians, and later found the thongs most useful. The wildcat skin was not tanned. I made a hunting cap from it in the most primitive way. The skin was hard and stiff and I cut out a flat piece the size of the top of my head and two inch strips for the sides. This strip when sewed on to the flat top make a square joint more useful than hand- some. This side strip was cut in such a manner that the tail was left on and when sewed, it was right in the middle part of the back of the cap. As it was hard and dry it stuck straight out behind when on my head. A queer look- ing cap, but it served its purpose well in the woods and was the cause of me killing more than one piece of game that I never would have got within range of had I been wearing any other kind of hat. My canoe was now vW4 painted and ready for use. My camping outfit, gun and ammunition all ready for the hunting trip to the head waters of Snook and the Hillsborough Creeks. I had rigged a lateen sail on the canoe and only waited for a day when the weather was right for a run up the coast to New River. On arising one morning I found the condition of wind and sea per- fect for my trip and was off about ten o'clock that day. I kept near the shore for I did not trust' the thin eight ounce canvas the canoe was covered with much and preferred to keep within swimming distance of the land. I made the trip all right without any difficulties of any kind; the canoe sailing along over the sea at a good rate of speed. When I arrived at the Bradley boat landing I was distressed to hear that Guy and his oldest sister were very sick from the same mysterious malady that afflicted Wash Jenkins when we moved him to the Bay during the fall. Flora, who was about ten years old, died that afternoon only a few minutes after I got there. The workmen engaged in repairing the Station made a coffin and she was buried the 193 next day under a wide spreading sea grape tree in the hammock northwest of the house. Guy was swelled up so badly he could not walk; I carried him to the grave. This sad incident took all the pleasure out of our lives for the time be- ing, and our hunting trip was deferred for a few days. We started one morning making our way up Hillsborough Creek. We had never been up this creek before and made slow time finding our way through the crooks and turns and shallow water at its upper end. We were near Cypress Creek when we had to stop aw X CC.ri! .aeeo of shallow water. We made camp in the pine woods on the west side of the marsh, then hunt- M c. y ed back in the swamps to the west. We could see plan4/—oi plume birds flying far to the west but could not locate their nesting places. Here I saw far up in the air two scarlet ibis flying west. These were the only scarlet ibis I have ever seen. Two days later we returned to the Station, not having killed one plume bird. We decided there were too many Indians hunting in that part of the country. The next morning came in clear with a cool west wind blowing and not a cloud in sight. We determined on a cruise up Snook Creek, so hurriedly ate our breakfast and departed. Late in the afternoon we were far up river were it became a shallow narrow creek with the bushes growing high and thick on either side and meeting overhead, preventing us from seeing any birds flying over. As night was now coming on we had to find a place to camp. We landed and found the shore low and swampy. With the axe I cut a trail through the scrub to a patch of ground that was comparatively dry and we prepared to spend the night by clearing a space large enough for our tent and campfire. The floor of the tent was full of humps and stubs of the cut bushes so I piled myrtle on it until I had a covering about two feet thick. This made a soft bed that eliminated the bumps underneath. 194 While eating breakfast the next morning we decided we had better go home and give up the plume hunting business for this season. Again we blamed the Indians for our lack of success. Immediately after breakfast we packed up and started back down river. An hour or so after we arrived back at the station, Champ H. Spencer, the superintendent of the Houses of Refuge came in on an inspection trip. He had George Charter as a boatman. Heretofore Spencer had been making his trips by sail boat on the ocean. This time he was travel- ing by canoe through the swamps and the Everglades. Steve Andrews had hauled the canoe from Lake Worth to the Orange Grove Station where they launched it in the swamp back of that Station and had made their way through to Boca Raton and the Hillsborough river, up Cypress creek to Lettuce Lake and then across the almost impassible marsh to Hillsborough creek. This route would have been quite easy in the fall and winter, but in the spring when the water is at its lowest it is impassible except in a case like this when the boat was small and light, and there was a very strong man to haul it over the mud and shallows. George Charter was such a man. They had a factory made canoe. It was small and cranky and with the load they carried, drew too much water for some of the shallow places they were compelled to pass through. They remained at the Station that night, and George said they were going on next day to Biscayne Bay by way of the Everglades. I at once proposed to accompany them as I was ready to return home. George said he would be glad to have me along to show them the way through the Glades. We started soon after breakfast the next morning and all went along smoothly until we were well into the Glades. Then trouble commenced because of the overloaded canoe. Again and again the canoe would stop hard and fast on the bottom and George would have to jump overboard and "snake" the boat 195 along to deeper water. The first time it hit bottom Spencer jumped overboard to lighten the load and help push. This did not suit George at all. He told Spencer in a very loud voice to remain in the canoe where he belonged. In a few minutes they hit another shallow spot. George at once stepped overboard A and started to haul the canoe over the shallow. When he saw Spencer was making ready to get out of the canoe he stood still and shouted at the top of his voice, "Sit down: Sit down, I tell you I don't need your help. You stay in the boat." If Spencer would insist on getting out of the canoe, as he did a few times, George would stand and yell at him loud enough to be heard two miles away. I had a picnic watching those two fight it out about getting over the shallow spots. Just before sundown a rain squall came down on us and lasted long enough to wet everything. We were a little over half way through the Glades when the sun set and we had to look for a camping place. The first little island we examined contained just enough ground above water on which to place our beds and campfire. It turned out to be a very uncomfortable camp as the ground was wet and soggy and full of lumps and stumps of dead bushes. There was not enough small green branches or myrtle to build up our beds and we spend a very poor night. We were up and getting breakfast at the first streaks of dawn; only too glad to hurry away from this most uncomfortable camp. About an hour later we were in Snake Creek and making fast time with a strong current in our favor. We arrived at Biscayne Station early in the afternoon. Spencer and George started back on their return trip the next morning, and for a wonder, I did not want to go with them. As a matter of fact, I was quite willing to remain at home for some time. The Gleasons were moving their household goods up the coast to Eau Gallie on Indian river. When I arrived at the Station I found they were again loading 196 for another trip up the coast. George Hunt, who had been living with them, and was the same age as Will Gleason, was making preparations to move to Lake Worth. He owned a small two masted boat named Mischief that he wanted \` sailed to Lake Worth and came to the Station one day to see what I would charge to do the job. The Mischief was only twenty feet long, open from stem to stern and carried about a thousand pounds of rocks stowed away under her floor for ballast. If she should happen to ship a heavy sea, she would go to the bottom like the ballast she carried, but I agreed to sail her to the Lake for ten dollars. George had a guitar valued at five dollars that I wanted so he gave me the instrument and an order on Dr. Potter at the Lake for the other five. I waited for good weather and when it came, started out alone. I spent the night at Fort Lauderdale and as Mr. Bradley had some business up at the lake he decided to go with me. We started out early in the morning. The wind was blowing a fine breeze from south southeast and the sea was smooth. After a quick and uneventful trip we ran into Lake Worth inlet a little be- fore dark and spent the night at the Geers' : Mr. Bradley left me here and the next morning I sailed the Mischief down to Mr. Potter's. The following day I started for home, walking down the beach. The first night I spend at Steve Andrews, the next at Fort Lauderdale and arrived home at the Bay early the next afternoon. A group of men of the United States Coast Survey were working along the seaboard from Lake Worth to Biscayne Bay, surveying and charting the coastline and inside the coastal waters. They had been at this work most of the winter and spring. They had finished the Indian river section to Jupiter the winter before. They had their headquarters at Cap Dimick's hotel and another party, using a large schooner at anchor near Miami, was engaged in the survey of F 1Y P 1 197 Biscayne Bay and its tributaries. They built tripods along the coast some miles apart for a steamer on the sea to run triangulations. :./ Father made the acquaintance of the Biscayne Bay crew when they were work- \ ing near the Station, and some days later called on them on board their schooner. They had a whale-boat they used for work in very shallow water. One day when the wind was blowing a stiff breeze they tried sailing the whale- boat, but it was too much for her as her planking was only a half inch thick. The garboard strake split half the length of the boat. The next day father called on them and they gave the boat to him. She was twenty-eight feet long and six feet beam, and planked with half inch white cedar. Father had her fitted with a set of natural crook timbers, a centerboard built in and decked over and a cabin added. He then rigged her as a schooner with leg-o-mutton sails and named her Bonito. Uncle Ned Pent did the work. Some time during that winter a family from Cleveland named Wallace moved into the Sturtevant home. They had come to the Bay because of the oldest son's health. Bruce was about twenty-eight years of age and very sick. The rest of the family included Mrs. Wallace, a widow, Neil, a boy of sixteen, and a sister, Ada, fourteen years of age. Bruce was so ill that he could hardly walk around the house. He thought the sea air might help him, so father invited him to come and spend a week or so with us. He came a few days later and brought his brother to wait on him. Neil was good company for me and we had many fine fishing trips to the reef about two miles off shore. The first time we went out I used the canvas canoe. There was some sea rolling and Neil became quite excited watching the canoe bend and buckle as it passed over the waves. He later became accustomed to the twisting and bending of the canoe in a lumpy sea, but on the first trip he was frightened. That fall the Wallaces moved to Gainesville where Bruce died. 198 Early that fall we heard that a company known as Fields and Osborn had 11,0- bought 1bought all vacant land along the ocean front from Cape Florida north to Lake i Worth, and were going to plant it in coconuts. They had a vessel coming from the island of Trinadad with a cargo of nuts for this planting scheme. Some- time about the first of November, E. T. Fields arrived on the Bay with a party of about twenty men, a team of mules, a wagon, a number of Jersey surf boats, and a quanity of lumber and large tents for the purpose of building a permanent camp for himself and the men. They built their first camp near the south end of Indian creek, about four miles south of the Station. With Fields was a young married couple named Matheson who came from Staten Island, New York. Fields expected the Mathesons to take care of his camp and mules through the summer following the winter planting. Frank Osborn, son of the senior partner was also one of the party. Shortly after their arrival father and I went to the camp and got acquainted with Fields, Frank Osborn and the Mathesons. Field informed us the schooner, Ada Doan, was on her way with the coconuts to be unloaded along the coast. As Miami was not a port of entry, father had been appointed special inspector by the custom house at Key West to inspect the unloading of the vessel and to see that only coconuts were landed from the schooner. When the Ada Doan arrived Fields said he needed me as an oarsman in one of his boats to help with the unloading. He told me to take the bow oar in my boat. Now the bow oar is not the best position in a surfboat according to my way of thinking. I had to be the first to take my place in going out, also I took the worst of every sea that might happen to break over the bow. It would go the highest on meeting a big breaking sea, and plunge the lowest when going down between them. There was only one good thing about that for- ward seat: when we reached shore I was the first to land. 199 We arrived alongside the schooner, which was anchored about half a mile from shore, and found another boat was ahead of us. As we had to wait for her to leave before we could load, I went on board to look around. The Ada Doan was a flush deck craft; just open low rail along amidship. Part of the schooner's crew were down in the hold throwing the nuts on deck. Others were tossing them to the men in the surfboats alongside who would drop them into the boat. This was kept up until the bottom of the boat was covered with nuts two or three deep. Then the men in the boat would stand aside and let the men on deck throw them into the boat until she was loaded. Then the boat was manned, lines cast off and rowed to shore where she was beached and unloaded. Then the same operation was performed again. It was a slow way to unload a ship, and a hard one at that. I had never used a fifteen foot oar before and my soft hands were soon badly blistered. All day from early morning until night the work went steadily on. It was hard and I was extremely tired when the last trip was made that day. My hands were very sore, and there were large blisters on the palms caused by the steady use of that fifteen foot oar. The wind increased that night and in the morning the sea was rough, but the work of unloading continued. When dinner came that day I was forced to give up my job on account of the condition of my hands. The catching of nuts at the schooner had broken the blisters in the palms of my hands and now there were big raw places where the blisters had been. After dinner which consisted of Irish stew, bread, butter and coffee, the regular menu at Field's Camp, I returned to the Station. I was glad to be home again and give my sore hands a chance to heal. Father had to stay on board the vessel while it was discharging its cargo so I was now in charge of the Station. There was not much to do except keep 200 a lookout for anything that might appear in sight on the ocean or on the beach. We had to keep the log and enter in it the number of brigs, barks, ships and steamers, that passed each day. We also entered the state of the weather, sea and direction of wind and made barometer and thermometer readings three times a day. The service asked the--keeper=to-keep�these records yet did not furnish t -vith any of the instruments. We happened to have a good barometer that belonged to my uncle, and a thermometer of our own, so the records were properly kept each day. When the schooner was unloaded it sailed away again for Trinidad and another cargo of nuts. While waiting for the first cargo to arrive Fields had kept his men busy cutting trails through the scrub from the beach back to the mangrove swamp along the bay and creek. These trails were about thirty feet apart. The nuts were planted in these trails and nearly every one sprout- ed and started to grow. Unfortunately, as soon as the tender sprout came from the ground, the rabbits, which infested the area, found something they liked better than the salt sea oats, their former diet; the result was that there are very few trees growing today that came from the planting of these thousands and thousands of nuts. The following winter another ship load was planted on Virginia Key and on Key Biscayne; and the following winter another cargo was landed along the coast from Boca Raton north to the lower end of Lake Worth, but I do not know of any trees growing today that came from this last planting; rabbits ate them all. About the winter of 1891-92 Fields came to Lake Worth and bought the George Charter beach ridge homestead and built Manalapan Cottage to use for a winter hotel. The hotel was not successful and was later sold to Baird and Collins who leased it one winter to Major Boynton. John S. Collins had other interestsdtn Miami Beach and so he sold it to Mr. R. Pearson of New Jersey; at 201 this writing it is occupied by the Pearson heirs during the winter. The old original homestead built of ships deck planks was torn down a few years ago to give place to Judge Jerome Gedney's handsome home. In the latter part of the summer of 1884 Bradley resigned his position as keeper of the Fort Lauderdale House of Refuge and moved his family back to Lake Worth. Jack Peacock was appointed to take his place. After the excitement attending the coming of the Ada Doan and the landing of the cargo of coconuts, life at the Station became very monotonous for me and my thoughts turned to my hunting chums, Louie and Guy, and the fine hunt- ing west of the Lake. Back in the flat woods I could see them killing all kinds of deer, turkey and sandhill cranes. At last I decided to walk up the beach as I had done before. When I arrived at Steve Andrew's I asked him to go to the Lake with me and take me to Bradley's in his sail boat. This he readily agreed to do, and I landed at their house in time for dinner on the third day from home. The boys were glad to see me and readily fell for my plan to start out at once. We made our plans while eating dinner. Bradley said if we killed any deer he would take it to Palm Beach to sell for us. In the meantime we could return to the woods and continue our hunt. It did not take long to get ready, and in less than an hour after dinner, we were on our way. We used my skiff, Little Blue, to take us to Camp Everglades on the edge of the flat woods. This was a fine camping ground and adjacent to the best hunting to be found in the western flat woods. There was a palmetto shack at this camp, one we had built some two years before, so when we arrived there were no delays; we simply threw our dunnage into the shack and started for the woods. I stopped just long enough to chance my hat for the wildcat skin cap and to put on my deer skin cape with its fringe of leather tie-ups. The 202 boys laughed at my makeup for a minute or so, but the results of that after- noon's hunt showed what my rig was worth in the woods. We left camp together and waded from the island to the open woods to the West. When we came to a bunch of little hammock islands in a large slough I told the boys I was going south through the islands. Louis and Guy said they would follow down on the west side of the slough. On coming around the south end of the last island I stopped to take a good look at the country ahead. As my gaze went around to the southeast I saw two deer laying down on a little point to the south. They had not seen me, and I carefully stepped back be- hind some low bushes growing on the point of the island. After looking over the situation from every point I came to the conclusion that the only chance I had of getting near enough to kill them was to crawl on my hands and knees through the grass and water. I hoped that my cat skin cap would fool them into thinking I was only an old coon hunting in the pond for food. When I was about fifty yards from them they saw me, but just stared while I kept crawling closer. Then one of them became suspicious and stood up to get a better look. When he did that, I knew the time for action had come. I was not more than forty yCards away from them. Slowly raising upon my knees I brought the gun to my shoulder with both barrels cocked and fired at the standing deer; it fell dead. The other sprang to its feet and swinging the gun around I pulled the trigger. It too fell dead. Less than an hour in the woods and I had two fine deer. I could not see any signs of Louie and Guy so I fired our usual signal. The echoes of my last shot had hardly died away when an answering bang came to me from the southwest. When they saw the two deer they were a little dis- appointed that I didn't give them more of a chance to do some hunting, for now we had to carry the meat home. We did not take it to the Bradleys' that night. It was late when we reached camp, near sundown, so we had a good supper of tenderloin and liver with flapjacks and tea. The weather was cool and the 203 meat would keep, so there was no reason for us to hurry back to the Lake. While ssitting around the campfire that night we talked of this wild and little known country. I mentioned that I had always found the sand hills along the edge of this great swamp rather puzzling. The hill we were camped on ran east and west, and along the south side there was a deep swamp. This swamp became shallow as the elevation of the hill diminished to end entirely at the western end of the island. There was also a hill north of us. It ran north and south, and along its entire length close up on the west was a deep slough extending to the west only far enough to have contained the sand now in the hill. Thencthere was Mystery Hill south of us. Along its entire length was a deep slough close up on the west, and where the hill was highest, the slough alongside was deepest. Everyone of the hills in this area was the same ; all have a deep swamp, or excavation on one side or the other. They must have been done by the hand of man I said, or rather, the hands of hundreds of men in perhaps as many years. I could conceive of no action of nature that would lift up a great body of sand from one particular spot and drop it in another close by. Some people call them dunes. Winston's handbook defines a dune as a heap of drifted sand piled up on the seashore by the action of the wind. I would like to see the wind that could form those hills out of a solid mass of palmetto, oak and gall-berry scrub. Especially since the scrub was cover- ed with water six months of the year and was soaking wet the other six. If these hills were made by man, as it appears to me they were, it must have been many hundreds of years ago, by an unknown race long extinct. Their reason for building them is quite plain to my way of thinking. This entire country, except for the hills, has been covered with water many feet in depth after a bad hurricane. No doubt these people suffered from such a flood and then determined to build these hills for a safe place to live. If such was 204 the case, it must have taken thousands of men many years to build a hill like the one near the south end of Lake Osborn. The next morning we took our meat to the Bradley home. Bradley was ready to start to Palm Beach and said he would sell the two saddles. The rest of the meat was for the Bradley family. When he returned I was handed eight dollars. We hunted all the rest of that day and part of the next without any success. It seemed as if we had frightened the deer from that part of the woods. Since I thought it about time to go back to Biscayne Bay, we decided to break camp and go home. About a mile from camp on our way home, we met Bradley. He had a stranger with him who was a surveyor for a company that was thinking of running a railroad through this part of Florida sometime in the future. . . Right after dinner the next day I asked the boys to take me to the haul- over at the foot of the Lake in their sail boat so I could start for home. I arrived at the Orange Grove Station where I intended to spent the night about two o'clock, only to find it locked up and Steve gone. As he might be away for two or three days; there seemed to be no use in waiting for him. I could not go back to Bradley's; there was no way to cross the lake to their place. Fort Lauderdale Station, the first habitation to the south, was twenty-five long miles down the beach. Of course, the distance was no problem, had there been plenty of time, but it was after two o'clock and before I had always start- ed on this longest of tramps right after breakfast. Now I was at least six hours late. That would bring my arrival at Lauderdale around ten o'clock that night, provided I could cross Hillsborough inlet without loss of time. I wheeled about and made off down the beach at a rapid walk as there was no time to waste if I was to reach the inlet before dark. I never slackened my gait until I arrived at the inlet which was just as the sun was setting be- hind a heavy bank of storm clouds far to the west. 205 The tide was high and was now slacking. Soon it would turn out, and when it did the current would become too strong for any sort of a raft that I might construct with no better tools than my bare hands and a pocket knife. I walked along the shore of the inlet looking for something that would float. I had only walked a short distance when I came upon an old tree stump. Then further along I found a large bamboo about twenty feet long and four inches in diameter. Then near it I found another bamboo that would do nicely for a pole to navigate my raft. Now all I lacked was a rope to tie the bamboo to the stump. I was wondering what I could do when I came to a patch of long bean vines. These beans, sometimes called Goat's Foot beans, grow only on the sea beach, and make very long vines. When I saw them I knew I had my rope. -1 It was nearly dark and the tide was about to start running out so quickly rolling the stump into the water I tied the bamboo to it, and taking the pole in hand stepped on board. By this time the tide was slowly moving towards the sea. Soon it would be running like a mill race. When I jumped on shore on the other side after about a three minute ride the bean vines broke and the stump and bamboo parted company and drifted out to sea. Turning about after watching the destruction of my raft, I started down the beach for Lauderdale. It was nearly nine o'clock when I arrived and the keeper was greatly surprised to see me walking in at that time of night. After breakfast next morning, Captain Jack took me down the four miles of New River in his little sail boat and landed me on the south shore of the in- let. Mrs. Peacock had given me a lunch to take with me as I would not get to Biscayne Station until long after dinner time. When about five miles below the inlet I sat down and ate my lunch, not that I was hungry so early, but it was much easier to carry that way. 206 When I walked in on my folks about three o'clock that afternoon and sur- prised them by my unlooked for return, I was in turn surprised to find my uncle Robert Moore and Aunt Ursula. They had come from Chicago by train to Cedar Key, then by steamer to Key West, and finally by the mail schooner Flora to Biscayne Bay. . This was Uncle Robert's first visit since his return home in April, 1876. He now informed us that he was going to move to Lake Worth, where he expected to spend the balance of his life, and so had brought his wife along to select the homesite. He also said it was up to father to find someway to get them to the lake. Some months before there had been a ship wrecked on the beach near Lake Worth. A great pile of old junk had been salvaged and Mr. Ewan, who was Deputy United States Marshall, was ordered to take it to Key West to the Salvage Court. He did not relish the idea of a trip up the coast in his little schooner and when he heard that father had to go to Lake Worth with Uncle Robert and his wife, he saw his chance to evade the trip by offering the use of his schooner and a Negro sailor, provided father would bring the ship's sails and riggings back to Miami for him. Ewan's Lillian was a far better and larger seagoing boat than any we had so father jumped at the offer. The Lillian, though much larger than the Creole or the Bonito, was none to big for a trip of that kind. She was too large to beach without wrecking her, and not large enough to stand very bad weather on the open sea. She was twenty-eight feet long and twelve feet wide, and schooner rigged Key West style. One morning some days later we started on our trip to the Lake. Our party consisted of father, mother, and my sister Lillie; Uncle Robert and Aunt Ursula; John, the Negro sailor; and myself. About four o'clock the next afternoon we sailed through Lake Worth inlet into the ever pleasant waters of the Lake and tied up at the Geer dock at sundown. Father had promised Uncle Robert six acres of land on Hypoluxo Island, but Aunt Ursula thought the location was too 111011.1111.1111111.11* 207 isolated and selected a homesite on the north end of the Geer's land. After they had purchased six acres they departed for Chicago to wind up their affairs. When we arrived everyone around the Lake was busy picking and packing the tomato crop for shipment. Captains U. D. Hendrickson and H. F. Hammon were now making regular trips to Titusville with produce from the Lake, con- sisting of tomatoes, peppers and eggplants. With the improved transportation affored by their boats, fair returns were being received by the growers. The boats were so constructed that they were able to make the outside run to Jupiter Inlet in much rougher seas than was possible with the smaller craft heretofore used. Alternating trips, they gave the settlers a chance to ship on the average of every ten days. When the weather was good, smaller craft sailed between trips of the larger boats. Later that year Captain Hendrickson and the Brelsford brothers went into partnership. They put a large schooner on the run from the Lake to Jacksonville, by way of the sea, and started a well stocked general store at what later became known as Palm Beach. Their ship, a sharpie modeled schooner of some sixty feet in length that registered fourteen tons, was named the Bessie B. The store was constructed on the end of Brelsford's point with a dock leading into the building for the schooner. About this time the people living near the new store thought they were entitled to a postoffice as the Lake Worth office was nearly two miles to the north. The government granted their petition to extend the mail route to the south and asked them to -- 111111.1111.111 206 name the new office. The Dimick and Geer families had planted many coconuts and now the area was one vast coconut grove so they decided to call it Palm PoSTAle City. The Department said they would have to select A uallibbAME name as there was a Palm City in another part of the state. When the residents heard this c osL they - the name Palm Beach. This name was agreeable to the postoffice department and as soon as the Brelsford store was finished, the office was moved there with E. M. Brelsford as postmaster. Sometime later the Brelsford brothers and Hendrickson dissolved their partnership. The Brelsfords retained the Bessie B. and the store; Captain Hendrickson his sharpie the Illinois. Then the Captain went north and bought the fifteen ton light draft schooner, Mary B. and built a store at Lake Worth on his own place and started a business in competition with the Brelsfords. From that time on for a number of years there was a quiet but energetic rivalry between these two important places on the Lake. Each had its tourist • hotel, store and transportation headquarters. I did not return with my parents on the Lillian to the Bay, but stayed over for a plume hunt with Louis and Guy. When I arrived back at the Station a couple of weeks later I found everyone at home well. Mr. and Mrs. Matheson were living at the Station as Fields and his crew had left for Jersey some weeks before my return. Some time the previous winter a young man named Charles Lum, who had come from New Jersey, built a good sized house about half a mile south of Field's camp. This was the first house built on Miami Beach, and excepting the Station, was the only one on the east side of the Bay. I remained quietly at home for a week or so assiduously practicing on m:' violin, but one day at dinner I told my folks I was getting tired sitting around everyday with nothing to do and that I was going to the lake. I mention- ed that Uncle Robert might have returned and started to build his house. Father 1 2051• liked my idea of^rip for once. Now that we had the Bonito he wanted me to take the Creole to the Lake and leave her with the Bradley's. He also wanted me to plant a hundred young coconut trees that Fields had given him from the cargo of the first trip of the Ada Doan and that were now sprouted and ready to set out. So that was how I happened to make a trip up the coast in the Creole in the month of June, 1884. It turned out to be one of the most eventful and at the same time hazardous trips I ever made sailing along the coast. Shortly after leaving the Station squalls began to make up on every hand and the prospects became very dubious. About twelve o'clock a heavy squall came down on me from the east. I was more than a mile from shore and the storm looked wicked, so I cast anchor in sixty feet of water and lowered sail in antici- pation of a heavy blow, but it petered out before reaching me. As it cleared up the wind again breezed up from the southwest. I had hopes of being able to sail straight to Lake Worth InleCt that night; if the wind held as it was I would be certain to be near that inlet by daylight in the morning. Yet I was suspicious of the weather, it had not been acting normally all day and I was afraid of a change of wind to the north or northeast before morning. I arrived off Hillsborough just before sundown, sailed close in and looked at it long and hard. My better judgment told me to go in and wait un- til morning before attempting the forty miles run to Lake Worth, and if there had been anyone with me I would have done so, but the place looked so lone- some, wild and dreary I decided to keep on. Besides, if rainy weather came on and I could not go on for a week or more I would have a most uncomfortable time. I had a feeling in my bones that the fine weather and fair wind would not hold until I reached Lake Worth Inlet. I feared a northeaster was coming down the coast, yet at this time there was nothing in the appearance of the .l..Ti 210 weather that indicated such conditions on the way. If a northeast wind should strike me before I reached the Lake I would be compelled to run the boat onto the beach, and that would probably mean her loss. She was by far too heavy for one man to pull up out of the reach of heavy seas that would follow the first wind of a strong northeaster. -�� Near eleven o'clock I passed the haulover at the south end of the Lake. I knew I had exactly eighteen miles yet to sail to the inlet and safety. I had been making about three miles an hour and now with eighteen miles to go, if the wind did not die down any more, I would arrive about six in the morning. If the wind would only come up strong enough to give the boat a speed of five miles an hour I felt certain I would reach the inlet ahead of the storm, but if it did not grow stronger, the chances were against me. The tide would start on the flood at five in the morning and if a northeaster was near it would come in with the tide. About two o'clock, when I was off Hammon and Lainh/art's place, the wind hauled more to the northwest. This caused me to flatten sheets and haul close on the wind in order to hold my course, which at the same time meant some loss of speed. At this time I could discern far away on the hor- izon in the north and northeast a heavy black storm cloud bank in which vivid and constant flashes of lightning appeared along its entire length. It was too distant to hear the thunder, but I knew only too well what it meant. At four o'clock the storm struck in full force. I brought the Creole into the wind at the first puff from the northeast, hauled down the jib and lowered away the peak of the mainsail, and headed upon the wind close hauled still thinking the wind might not come too hard, or the sea kick up too quickly for me to make the inlet. The beach would be my last resort for I now was convinced the Creole would be smashed into kindling wood in no time. 211 A few minutes after I had hauled on the wind I saw that it was all up. The heavy wind knocked the Creole on her beam end. She lost steerageway and was drifting sideways to the beach entirely out of control. Slacking the main sheet I got her off before the wind and headed her for the land. There was nothing else to do now and I fully expected the Creole would be a total wreck soon after striking the sand. When within a hundred feet of the shore I rounded up and cast anchor. Then I played out cable until the stern was in shallow water so I could wade to land with my bedding. Crawling back on board, I hauled the anchor to the deck, and let the wind drive the Creole .... A. broadside on the beach. I carried the anchor high upon shore where=1-planted it firmly in the sandean-lhenjdrove a stake into the sand to hold the stern line. These lines would prevent the return rush of the seas from carrying the boat back into the churn of the breakers where she would soon fill and beome a complete wreck. I was hunting for some timber or planks to place under the boat's keel to prevent her burying in the sand when I heard a new noise above the roar of the wind and the sea. The jib had broken its lashings and run up the stay. Before I could reach the boat another hard gust of wind came and tore the jib into rags_ . After a great deal of effort I finally got three planks in place under the boat. As I went on the beach about five o'clock in the morning and at dead low tide, I saw that I would have to tend the lines and keep the planks under the boat until eleven, when the tide would again commence to fall. The boat would then be safe from pounding seas until the next high tide. I had a comparatively easy time tending the lines and had just finished the third and last shift when I happened to look down the beach to the south. About a half mile away two men were hurrying up the beach toward me. 111111, .s K ' 212 When they were near enough for me to see their faces I recognized one as Everard Geer. The other, a boy of about fifteen, I did not know. Evie had a broad grin as he approached me and called out that it looked as if I was shipwrecked. I said I was not wrecked as the captain had not yet given up the ship. Then pointing to his companion, Evie said, "Do you know this fellow?" When I answered no, that I had never seen him before, Evie laughed and said it was my cousin Rob Moore. It was no wonder I didn't recognize him. He had been two when I last saw him in May, 1871. After a few minutes spent in asking and answering questions, Evie said we had better hurry back home or we would be late for dinner. Of course he invited me, a poor shipwrecked sailor, to go with them. To this I agreed as now there was nothing to do at the boat until the next high tide, and besides I was very hungry, not having eaten anything since noon the day before. At the same time I told the boys it would be necessary for me to be on hand at the Creole at high tide that night, which would be at midnight. When I had finished explaining the necessity of being on hand to take care of the Creole, Evie said he and Rob would bring their tent and help with the boat. This plan was agreed upon and we started off down the beach to the Geers. Here I met for the first time M. B. (Benson) Lyman. Lyman was boss carpenter in charge of the building of Uncle Robert's new house, well under way at this time. Lyman told me he and his wife had two small sons, Gunther and Edgar, and that his father, mother, and brother George, were then living in Jacksonville. Late in the afternoon we returned to the Creole loaded down with camp dunnage. By the time we had the tent up, beds fixed and wood collected for an all night fire, it was dark and time for supper. When we had finished eat- ing, I lay back on the sand and all at once felt very sleepy. Turning to the boys I said that I was depending on them to awaken me at midnight. I had not had one wink of sleep since the night before last and was afraid once I went to ClOGT T ,,+nnlrl not the - ".ryl`.aAx - •�s Y T%?�s ? h.' `�C - ay wt,('J.k'y Y` Y ,y t ... 213 When I opened my eyes again the sun was high in the east. Springing to my feet I looked in the tent and there were my two trusty helpers sound asleep. was My boat was heeled over to windward andAfull of sand and water. The sea had been washing clean over her at high tide while we slept. I went back to the tent and routed out the boys, telling them they were a fine pair of helpers in the time of shipwreck. They claimed they had not known a thing from the time they closed their eyes until I called them. After breakfast, under my directions and with my help, the boys went to work with a will, and it was not long before the old Creole was again in shape to stand another high tide without damage. We then retired to our tent and rested until noon when the tide was again at its highest. But although the sea swept clear up to the grass on the ridge, the Creole was not disturbed because of the secure blocking we had given her. After lunch we lowered the tent, rolled up our bedding and packed back to the Geer home, where I re- mained waiting for the wind to moderate and the sea to calm. A week later the wind slackened enough that I could make repairs and sail the Creole into the Lake. It was now ten days since I left the Bay and there was no way to send word home of my safe arrival. I would have to walk back by way of the ocean beach to let them know that I was yet alive and well. Uncle Robert tried to persuade me to stay and help with the work on PAtEaft his house, but when I told him of my anxiety to lett' know I was alright, he admitted that perhaps I was right. However, he exacted a promise from me to return and give him a week or two of work on the building. He said I had better be at work earning a little money than sitting around the Station, not making a cent. I gave Mrs. Geer all of the young coconut trees that I was to plant. This I did as a part recompense for the bother and expense I had caused a0. through I 214 the week of my enforced stay at the Geer home. Then I sailed down the lake to the Bradleys where I left my camp outfit. I had intended to leave the Creole there with Louie, but when Evie and Rob learned my intentions, they begged me to leave the boat with them. This I was at length foolish enough to do and had to walk an extra twelve miles in order to accommodate them. When I reached home father was not at all pleased that I had given the coconuts to Mrs. Geer. Mother said she was only too thankful that I had come out of it all safe and did not care what had become of the coconutf rees. There the controversy ended. Not long after making his inspection trip by canoejSpencer realized that canoe travel along the lower east coast was not suited to his purpose and bought from Commodore Ralph Monroe his little sharpie, Skipperee. The boat was commanded by Joe Jenkins, a Florida boy that had lived most of his life on Biscayne Bay. I had been home but a few days when Spencer arrived on one of his inspection trips. When I told him I wished to go to Lake Worth he said he would be more than glad to land me at Palm Beach in return for my assistance in sailing the sharpie. Of course I was only too glad to accept passage on those terms. The first job that Uncle Robert gave me when I arrived on the Lake was to help a young man that was at work drilling a well. This well was located close to the kitchen at an angle formed by its junction with the main build- ing and open to the south and east. This location collected all the heat that a Florida August sun could give it. The drill was a solid bar of steel, two inches thick and twenty feet long and weighed close to seventy-five pounds. Our work was to lift this ponderous implement, turn it slightly and let it drop. Then repeat the operation as quickly as our strength would permit. lamr7--... .... _ .__. _ _ r----- --- ��o .s.. 215 At twelve o'clock when we went to dinner I informed my uncle that he would have to get another man on that drill for the rest of the day as it was too hard a job for me. When I said this, all the men burst out with a hearty laugh. I could not see anything funny and asked what the joke was? Benson Lyman told me that the drilling job had worn out every man on the place, but that the well was now finished. The had measured it after I left and found it deep enough. That afternoon I was put to work painting sash and window frames and liked it far better than drilling wells. The old settlers in this sectio��n,, claimed a lath and plaster finish in a house would not stand. They cthat hurricanes would cause it to crack and fall. There was not a house from Titusville to Biscayne Bay that was plastered, except the house of the Jupiter light keepers, but this was built of stone which was said to make a big difference. Aunt Ursula said her house had to be plastered regardless of what hurricanes might do and Uncle Robert thought it would stand here as well as other places if the work • was done right. Thus the Dellmoore was the first house on Lake Worth fin- ished with lath and plaster. All other houses at that time, and for some years later, were panelled with natural pine. I had not worked at regular day labor before, and found I had a hard time keeping steadily at it for ten hours straight in that hot August sun. When Saturday night came I was ready to quit and go back to Biscayne Bay. Uncle Robert wanted me to stay on, but I told him I was satisfied with what I had earned that week and was ready for a change. Even a seventy mile walk down the beach was a vacation compared to the work around his building. At the Station I found a surprise waiting for me in the shape of a letter from Uncle Will, who was then manager of the Titus House, the largest A 4 216 hotel in Titusville. He asked me to come and get his boat, the Bon Ton, as his work at the hotel made it impossible for him to take care of her. He said I could use her in any way I chose until he needed her again, which might be more than a year hence. This was good news for me because the Bon Ton was a fairly large sloop with a big cabin. The Bon Ton was twenty-eight feet long and seven wide with a cabin fit- ted with two bunks and a kerosene stove. She had been built by Uncle Will at Jupiter for the party business on Indian River in the winter season. I was very elated to have the use of her for a year or more at no cost to me ex- cept her upkeep. After much deliberation I decided to see if Louie and Guy would take me to Titusville in their father's sloop Nautilus. I felt sure they would do this for me because the boys had not been on Indian River since their coming to the lake some years before. When I had explained the situation and my needs, Mr. Bradley readily agreed to letting the boys take me up the coast. Hoisting sail on the Nautilus next morning we headed for the inlet and on our arrival there found the tide and sea favorable. We put to sea at once and soon made Jupiter Inlet. As wind and tide was in our favor we did not land at the Lighthouse, but kept on our way up Indian River. Being anxious to reach Titusville as soon as possible, we did not land or even anchor except for a few hours sleep that night, and the next. We arrived at Titusville late in the afternoon of the third day. The next morning we boarded the Bon Ton which had been anchored south of Wager's dock in about two feet of water. Neglected and uncared for, she had sunk as far as the depth of the water would permit and was sitting on the bottom with about eighteen inches of water over the cabin floor. After about an hour's work we had her afloat once more and sailed around and tied up r ttA, 217 alongside the Nautilus. Then I took inventory of equipment remaining on board. There was not much of it and what there was had been badly used. There was enough for me to get along on now, but it was quite evident that before starting again in the party business I would have to spend quite a sum on galley equipment. After a quick trip to the Lake I started immediately for home. I saw another lonesome and long sail down the coast ahead of me, but an Irish peddler named Pat Murphy was waiting on Pat Lennon's dock and asked to be taken to Miami. Since I wanted company I was glad to have him along, though his great appitite and irresponsibility made me wish several times that I had left him on the dock at Palm Beach. Twenty years after I dropped him off at Miami I met and talked with Pat Murphy again. In October, 1884 occured the greatest and longest rainfall known on the east coast since its earliest settlement. It poured for eight days and nights without stopping. The whole southern part of the state, with the exception of the higher land, was inundated. All hollows on the beach ridge east of Indian Creek were full of water. On the night of the eighth day the rain stopped and the next day came in bright and clear and the sun shone on a rain soaked Florida. In the after- noon of that day, when I was on the porch looking out to sea, I caught the glint of something white about four miles to the north. At first I thought it was a sea gull, but when I looked through our old spyglass the flickering white appeared to be whitecaps at the head of a dark body of water rushing down the coast. In less than an hour it was passing the Station, in the mean- time I had called everyone to come and see the strange sight. A dark mass of fresh water, some hundred feet in width, was rushing along to the south with breaking seas overrunning the blue water in front. It was a strange sight -...�. - .�_ ✓r.. - _ • 218 and at first we all wondered where it came from. Father solved the mystery when he said that it was fresh water from New River inlet. New River was fourteen miles away, yet there was no other solution of the phenomenon. What a mighty volume of water must have been coming out of the inlet, and with tremendous velocity, enough to overcome the resistance of wind and sea for so many miles. By night of that day the entire ocean in sight of the Station was covered with dark coffee colored fresh water from New River. There was not a bit of blue water to be seen in any direction; in fact, Biscayne Bay was fresh for nearly a month after the week of rain. A Frenchman Oram had been living with the Wagners up the Miami River for the past year. He was first brought to our notice by a very serious accident he met with in the month of November. While loading a shotgun in a hurry he had caused it to go off, shooting the ramroad and the entire charge through the palm of his right hand. He was hurried to Key West where the doctors cured the wound by taking the bones from three of his fingers and us- ing them to fill the hole in the palm of his hand. Father came from Miami one day and said he had met and talked with the Frenchman, whose name was Le Chevelier. Mr. Le Chevelier, who was a taxidermist and collector of bird skins and plumes, wanted to hire me and the Bon Ton to take him on a long cruise after birds around the Keys and the west coast. The cruise was to start the latter part of April, and to last most of the summer. I immedi- ately called at the Wagners and closed the deal with Mr. LeChevelier, and made the acquaintance of Henry Wagner, a boy of seventeen, that did all the bird skinning for the Frenchman. I promised to be on hand not later than April 15 to start the trip. It was about this time that father decided to resign his position as keeper of Biscayne Station and return to our old home on Hypoluxo Island. «„ms ,;a V ,c i'• ,-'P , Tti ' r' �iv 11 Yew + t * ikzt, Yc . - - s y`' ' 219 I was delighted with this decision, for I had never liked living on the Bay. The principal reason was the lack of good hunting such as I had been used to at Hypoluxo. As father had to inspect the landing of another ship load of coconuts the latter part of the month, it was decided that I should take mother and my sister and most of our household goods in the Bon Ton and go ahead to the lake. Father was to follow in the Bonito when his work was finished. I felt this arrangement was a great responsiblity on my shoulders. Besides the Bon Ton and the best part of all our household goods, the lives of mother and my sister were in my hands. I was determined on one point, I would not put to sea unless I was sure of good weather, but the season was in my favor now and one February morning we were able to start up the coast. We had almost reached Lake Worth Inlet after an uneventful trip when we discovered a large steamship approaching from the north. As she came near we could see it would pass us close aboard the starboard side. Of course, I could have kept away, but I was curious to see what she looked like close up, so held my course. It was a large passenger ship, and evidently a stranger to this coast. We guessed it was from Europe bound for New Orleans, where there was an international exposition. Soon she was close aboard, and she was a whopper for size. Our topmast hardly reached as high as her main deck, where a crowd had collected to gaze at us. Her name in large gold letters on the bow end was Ramon De Habbas, evidently a French ship. The Bon Ton's name was on the stern and the people on the ship could not see it until we had passed. There was a man on the after deck looking at us with a pair of glasses as we sailed by and as he read the boat's name, there came a sudden change in the crowd of passengers. They started to jump about the deck and wave their hats and handkerchiefs. We could hear a confused sound of voices as they called to us in French. Just then we ran into the swell of the passing 220 ship and for a minute or so I thought the mast would go, so violent were the plunges of the Bon Ton on the sharp high seas thrown out by the steamship. I was genuinely frightened. When we passed into the smooth sea again I register- ed a vow never await to go so close to a passing steamship when in a com- paratively small sail boat. As we neared the inlet we could see aschooner at anchor inside, and a few minutes later recognized her as the Bessie B. When we sailed past her Captain Ed Brelsford, who was standing on her after deck, waved his hand to us. The tide was at its peak and still running in, so we me re-r- stopp until we A.. r a -t . Uncle Robert'sdock)just as darkness settled down.