Down South or, Yacht Adventure in Florida

Oliver Optic

Description

Down South is the fifth and last volume but one of the Great Western Series. The action of the story is confined entirely to Florida; and this fact may seem to belie the title of the Series. But the young yachtman still maintains his hold upon the scenes of his earlier life in Michigan, and his letters come regularly from that State. If he were old enough to vote, he could do so only in Michigan; and therefore he has not lost his right to claim a residence there during his temporary sojourn in the South. Besides, half his ship's company are Western boys, who carry with them from The Great Western family of States whatever influence they possess in their wanderings through other sections of the grand American Union.

Informations

• Publié par: Pub One Info
• Date de parution: 23 octobre 2010
• Nombre de lectures: 0
• EAN13: 9782819903574
• Langue: English

Extrait

PREFACE.
"Down South" is the fifth and last volume but one ofthe "Great Western Series." The action of the story is confinedentirely to Florida; and this fact may seem to belie the title ofthe Series. But the young yachtman still maintains his hold uponthe scenes of his earlier life in Michigan, and his letters comeregularly from that State. If he were old enough to vote, he coulddo so only in Michigan; and therefore he has not lost his right toclaim a residence there during his temporary sojourn in the South.Besides, half his ship's company are Western boys, who carry withthem from "The Great Western" family of States whatever influencethey possess in their wanderings through other sections of thegrand American Union.
The same characters who have figured in othervolumes of the Series are again presented, though others areintroduced. The hero is as straightforward, resolute, andself-reliant as ever. His yacht adventures consist of variousexcursions on the St. Johns River, from its mouth to a point abovethe head of ordinary navigation, with a run across to Indian River,on the sea-coast, a trip up the Ocklawaha, to the Lake Country ofFlorida, and shorter runs up the smaller streams. The yachtmen andhis passengers try their hand at shooting alligators as well asmore valuable game in the "sportsman's paradise" of the South, andfind excellent fishing in both fresh and salt water.
Apart from the adventures incident to the cruise ofthe yacht in so interesting a region as Florida, the volume, likeits predecessors in the Series, has its own story, relating to thelife-history of the hero. But his career mingles with the eventspeculiar to the region in which he journeys, and many of hisassociates are men of the "sunny South." In any clime, he is thesame young man of high aims and noble purposes. The remainingvolume will follow him in his cruise on the Gulf of Mexico, and upthe Mississippi.
DORCHESTER, MASS., August 25, 1880.
CHAPTER I.
MAKING A FLORIDA PORT. "That's it, as true as youlive, Captain Alick!" exclaimed Bob Washburn, the mate of theSylvania, as he dropped the spy-glass from his right eye. "Yourdead-reckoning was correct every time." "I have no doubt you areright, Washburn," I replied, referring to an open volume that layon the shelf under the forward windows of the pilot-house. "'Asquare tower, painted white, sixty-eight feet above the sea,'" Icontinued, reading from the Coast Pilot . "But there isanother tower, more than twice that height. Ah, here is a note inpencil I made: 'The government has built a new tower, one hundredand sixty feet high.'" "That must be St. Augustine Light: there canbe no possible doubt of it. It fits the description; and that isexactly where we ought to find it," added the mate.
The Sylvania had been on a ten weeks' cruise toNassau, Havana, and the Bermuda Islands. In Havana we had beenstartled by the report of a few cases of yellow fever, and we hadhastily departed for the Bermudas, where we had cruised by sea andjourneyed by land for a month. The steam-yacht was now on herreturn to Florida. The weather had been thick and rainy, and forthe last two days I had failed to obtain an observation. But we hadheaved the log every two hours, though there was rarely a variationof half a knot from our regular speed. We had made carefulcalculations and allowances for the current of the Gulf Stream, andthe result was that we came out right when we made the Floridacoast.
We had two sets of instruments on board; andWashburn and myself had each made an independent observation, whenthe sky was clear enough to permit us to do so, and had cipheredout the latitude and longitude. We had also figured up thedead-reckoning separately, as much for practice as to avoidmistakes. We had varied a little on the dead-reckoning, and itproved that I was the nearer right, as the position of St.Augustine Light proved.
The steam-yacht was under charter for a year to mycousin, Owen Garningham, a young Englishman, who was spending thewinter in the South. The after cabin was occupied by four otherpersons, who were his guests, – Colonel Shepard, his wife, son, anddaughter. Miss Edith, the daughter, was Owen's "bright particularstar," and she was one of the most beautiful young ladies I eversaw. I may add that she was as gentle and amiable as she waspretty. All the Shepard family were very pleasant people,invariably kind to the ship's company; and though the Colonel was avery wealthy man, none of them ever "put on airs" in theirrelations with the crew.
Though I did not pride myself on the fact that someof my ship's company had "blue blood" in their veins, I certainlybelieved that no vessel was ever manned by a more intelligent,gentlemanly, and skilful crew. Robert C. Washburn, the mate, was acollege student, who would return to his studies at the end of thevoyage. He was one of the best fellows I had ever met, and wascompetent to command any vessel, on any voyage, so far at least asits navigation and management were concerned. We were devotedfriends; but he received his wages and did his duty as though heand I had had no other relations than those of captain andmate.
Moses Brickland, the chief engineer, was the son ofmy guardian; and though he was still in his teens, he was competentto build an engine, or to run it after it was built. Bentley F.Bowman, the assistant engineer, was a full-grown man, and had acertificate, besides being one of the best seamen I ever sailedwith. Our steward, who was our only waiter until we sailed fromJacksonville in December, had been chief steward of a large Westernsteamer, and fully understood all branches of his business. He wason the present voyage for the benefit of his health. Buck Lingleyand Hop Tossford, the deck-hands, were young Englishmen, belongingto the "first families," and were friends of my cousin Owen; buttwo more daring, resolute, and skilful young seamen never trod adeck. The two firemen were young machinists I had shipped atMontreal when they were out of work. They were brothers, and thesons of a Vermont farmer. Washington Gopher, an excellent cook, wasa gray-haired colored man, who had rendered the best of service onboard.
The Sylvania had come all the way from Lake St.Clair, and it was expected that she would return there. Thesteam-yacht was my property, so far as a minor could hold property.She had been presented to me by the head of a wealthy Westernfamily for a valuable service I had rendered. I had cruised in theGreat Lakes in her, and had had some exciting adventures onboard.
I had spent my earliest days in the poor-house of aMaine town, from which a down-east skipper had taken me for thework I could do. But I was afterwards found near Lake St. Clair bymy father, after a long and diligent search. But he had beenobliged to leave me in charge of Mr. Brickland, my ever faithfulfriend and guardian, while he went to England to attend to somefamily affairs. He left property enough to make me independent forlife, but it had all been lost by a fire, and I had nothing but theSylvania.
The steam-yacht afforded me an abundant supportwhile she was under charter to my cousin. Owen was the next heir tome of my father's title of baronet and his large estate. One PikeCarrington, my father's solicitor, had persuaded my cousin to enterinto some vague conspiracy to "get rid of me in some manner." But,with the aid of Washburn, I had discovered the plot; and having thegood fortune to save Owen's life in a storm, before he was fairlycommitted to the conspiracy, he had become my fast friend.
My cousin's mother was very rich, and it appearedthat she gave him money without stint or limit. Carrington hadbought the sister yacht of the Sylvania, the Islander, which was totake part in the conspiracy against me, and in which the solicitorhad followed the Sylvania to Florida. He had employed CaptainParker Boomsby, the down-east skipper, then settled in Michigan, tocommand her, and to assist in carrying out his plan. One feature ofthe scheme was to make me believe that my father was dead; and formonths I did believe it. Captain Boomsby claimed that I had been"bound out" to him till I was twenty-one; and he insisted upon thepossession of my person and my property as much as though I hadbeen his slave. My father had made an arrangement with him by whichhe had abandoned all his interest in me, but at the reported deathof my father, Carrington had induced him to assert his claimagain.
Captain Boomsby had followed me to Florida in theIslander, with the solicitor as his passenger. The former hadevidently undertaken "to get rid of me;" but, instead of doingthis, he had sacrificed the solicitor. Both he and the lawyer hadbecome hard drinkers, and in the Captain's attempt to wreck me, hehad sunk the Islander and drowned his employer. I judged that thiswould be the end of the conspiracy; and so it was, so far as mycousin Owen and the solicitor were concerned, but not on the partof Captain Boomsby.
I had left my "ancient enemy," as I had a right toregard Captain Boomsby, at Jacksonville when we sailed for the WestIndies. I knew that his experiment of making money in Michigan hadbeen a failure, and that he was looking for a more hopeful field ofoperations in some other section of the country. One of his mentold me that he intended to run the Sylvania on the St. Johns Riveras a passenger boat, and that he felt sure of obtaining possessionof her, because, he asserted, he was the rightful owner of her. Thepaper he had signed was destroyed with the rest of myvaluables.
As the steam-yacht approached the coast of Florida Idid not even think of my ancient enemy. I had left him inJacksonville, where he was drinking all he could carry, every day.He was terribly bitter and revengeful towards me; for though myfather had paid him a considerable sum of money to appease him,rather than to satisfy any just claim he had upon me, he couldnever be content until he obtained all that could be ha