As one of the aides of President Jefferson Davis, I left Richmond with
him and his cabinet on April 2, 1865, the night of evacuation, and
accompanied him through Virginia, the Carolinas, and Georgia, until his
capture. Except Lieutenant Barnwell, I was the only one of the party who
escaped. 

After our surprise, I was guarded by a trooper, a German, who
had appropriated my horse and most of my belongings. I determined, if
possible, to escape; but after witnessing Mr. Davis's unsuccessful
attempt, I was doubtful of success. However, I consulted him, and he
advised me to try. Taking my guard aside, I asked him, by signs (for he
could speak little or no English), to accompany me outside the
picket-line to the swamp, showing him at the same time a twenty-dollar
gold piece. He took it, tried the weight of it in his hands, and put it
between his teeth. Fully satisfied that it was not spurious, he escorted
me with his carbine to the stream, the banks of which were lined with a
few straggling alder-bushes and thick saw-grass. I motioned him to
return to camp, only a few rods distant. He shook his head, saying,
"_Nein, nein_." I gave him another twenty-dollar gold piece; he chinked
them together, and held up two fingers. I turned my pockets inside out,
and then, satisfied that I had no more, he left me.

Creeping a little farther into the swamp, I lay concealed for about
three hours in the most painful position, sometimes moving a few yards
almost _ventre à terre_ to escape notice; for I was within hearing of
the camps on each side of the stream, and often when the soldiers came
down for water, or to water their horses, I was within a few yards of
them. Some two hours or more passed thus before the party moved. The
wagons left first, then the bugles sounded, and the president started on
one of his carriage-horses, followed by his staff and a squadron of the
enemy. 

Shortly after their departure I saw some one leading two
abandoned horses into the swamp, and recognized Lieutenant Barnwell of
our escort. Secreting the horses, we picked up from the debris of the
camp parts of two saddles and bridles, and with some patching and tying
fitted out our horses, as sad and war-worn animals as ever man bestrode.
Though hungry and tired, we gave the remains of the camp provisions to a
Mr. Fenn for dinner. He recommended us to Widow Paulk's, ten miles
distant, an old lady rich in cattle alone.

The day after my escape, I met Judah P. Benjamin as M. Bonfals, a French
gentleman traveling for information, in a light wagon, with Colonel
Leovie, who acted as interpreter. With goggles on, his beard grown, a
hat well over his face, and a large cloak hiding his figure, no one
would have recognized him as the late secretary of state of the
Confederacy. I told him of the capture of Mr. Davis and his party, and
made an engagement to meet him near Madison, Florida, and there decide
upon our future movements. He was anxious to push on, and left us to
follow more leisurely, passing as paroled soldiers returning home. For
the next three days we traveled as fast as our poor horses would permit,
leading or driving them; for even if they had been strong enough, their
backs were in such a condition that we could not ride. We held on to
them simply in the hope that we might be able to dispose of them or
exchange them to advantage; but we finally were forced to abandon one.

On the 13th we passed through Valdosta, the first place since leaving
Washington, in upper Georgia, in which we were able to purchase
anything. Here I secured two hickory shirts and a pair of socks, a most
welcome addition to my outfit; for, except what I stood in, I had left
all my baggage behind. Near Valdosta we found Mr. Osborne Barnwell, an
uncle of my young friend, a refugee from the coast of South Carolina,
where he had lost a beautiful estate, surrounded with all the comforts
and elegances which wealth and a refined taste could offer. Here in the
pine forests, as far as possible from the paths of war, and almost
outside of civilization, he had brought his family of ladies and
children, and with the aid of his servants, most of whom had followed
him, had built with a few tools a rough log cabin with six or eight
rooms, but without nails, screws, bolts, or glass--almost as primitive a
building as Robinson Crusoe's. But, in spite of all drawbacks, the
ingenuity and deft hands of the ladies had given to the premises an air
of comfort and refinement that was most refreshing. Here I rested two
days, enjoying the company of this charming family, with whom Lieutenant
Barnwell remained. On the 15th I crossed into Florida, and rode to
General Finnegan's, near Madison. Here I met General Breckinridge, the
late secretary of war of the Confederacy, alias Colonel Cabell, and his
aide, Colonel Wilson,--a pleasant encounter for both parties. Mr.
Benjamin had been in the neighborhood, but, hearing that the enemy were
in Madison, had gone off at a tangent. We were fully posted as to the
different routes to the seaboard by General Finnegan, and discussed with
him the most feasible way of leaving the country. I inclined to the
eastern coast, and this was decided on. I exchanged my remaining horse
with General Finnegan for a better, giving him fifty dollars to boot.
Leaving Madison, we crossed the Suwanee River at Moody's Ferry, and took
the old St. Augustine road, but seldom traveled in late years, as it
leads through a pine wilderness, and there is one stretch of twenty
miles with only water of bad quality, at the Diable Sinks. I rode out of
my way some fifteen miles to Mr. Yulee's, formerly senator of the United
States, and afterward Confederate senator, hoping to meet Mr. Benjamin;
but he was too wily to be found at the house of a friend. Mr. Yulee was
absent on my arrival, but Mrs. Yulee, a charming lady, and one of a
noted family of beautiful women, welcomed me heartily. Mr. Yulee
returned during the night from Jacksonville, and gave me the first news
of what was going on in the world that I had had for nearly a month,
including the information that Mr. Davis and party had reached Hilton
Head on their way north.

Another day's ride brought us to the house of the brothers William and
Samuel Owens, two wealthy and hospitable gentlemen, near Orange Lake.
Here I rejoined General Breckinridge, and we were advised to secure the
services and experience of Captain Dickinson. We sent to Waldo for him,
and a most valuable friend he proved. During the war he had rendered
notable services; among others he had surprised and captured the United
States gunboat _Columbine_ on the St. John's River, one of whose small
boats he had retained, and kept concealed near the banks of the river.
This boat with two of his best men he now put at our disposal, with
orders to meet us on the upper St. John.

We now passed through a much more interesting country than the two or
three hundred miles of pines we had just traversed. It was better
watered, the forests were more diversified with varied species,
occasionally thickets or hummocks were met with, and later these gave
place to swamps and everglades with a tropical vegetation. The road led
by Silver Spring, the clear and crystal waters of which show at the
depth of hundreds of feet almost as distinctly as though seen through
air.

We traveled incognito, known only to good friends, who sent us stage by
stage from one to another, and by all we were welcomed most kindly.
Besides those mentioned, I recall with gratitude the names of Judge
Dawkins, Mr. Mann, Colonel Summers, Major Stork, all of whom overwhelmed
us with kindness, offering us of everything they had. Of money they were
as bare as ourselves, for Confederate currency had disappeared as
suddenly as snow before a warm sun, and greenbacks were as yet unknown.
Before leaving our friends, we laid in a three weeks' supply of stores;
for we could not depend upon obtaining any further south.

On May 25 we struck the St. John's River at Fort Butler, opposite
Volusia, where we met Russell and O'Toole, two of Dickinson's command,
in charge of the boat; and two most valuable and trustworthy comrades
they proved to be, either in camp or in the boat, as hunters or
fishermen. The boat was a man-of-war's small four-oared gig; her outfit
was scanty, but what was necessary we rapidly improvised. Here General
Breckinridge and I gave our horses to our companions, and thus ended my
long ride of a thousand miles from Virginia.

Stowing our supplies away, we bade good-by to our friends, and started
up the river with a fair wind. Our party consisted of General
Breckinridge; his aide, Colonel Wilson of Kentucky; the general's
servant, Tom, who had been with him all through the war; besides
Russell, O'Toole, and I,--six in all. With our stores, arms, etc., it
was a tight fit to get into the boat; there was no room to lie down or
to stretch. At night we landed, and, like old campaigners, were soon
comfortable. But at midnight the rain came down in bucketfuls, and
continued till nearly morning; and, notwithstanding every effort, a
large portion of our supplies were soaked and rendered worthless, and,
what was worse, some of our powder shared the same fate.

Morning broke on a thoroughly drenched and unhappy company; but a little
rum and water, with a corn-dodger and the rising sun, soon stirred us,
and with a fair wind we made a good day's run,--some thirty-five miles.
Except the ruins of two huts, there was no sign that a human being had
ever visited these waters; for the war and the occasional visit of a
gunboat had driven off the few settlers. The river gradually became
narrower and more tortuous as we approached its head waters. The banks
are generally low, with a few sandy elevations, thickly wooded or
swampy. Occasionally we passed a small opening, or savanna, on which
were sometimes feeding a herd of wild cattle and deer; at the latter we
had several potshots, all wide. Alligators, as immovable as the logs on
which they rested, could be counted by hundreds, and of all sizes up to
twelve or fifteen feet. Occasionally, as we passed uncomfortably near,
we could not resist, even with our scant supply of ammunition, giving
them a little cold lead between the head and shoulders, the only
vulnerable place. With a fair wind we sailed the twelve miles across
Lake Monroe, a pretty sheet of water, the deserted huts of Enterprise
and Mellonville on each side. Above the lake the river became still
narrower and more tortuous, dividing sometimes into numerous branches,
most of which proved to be mere _culs-de-sac_. The long moss, reaching
from the overhanging branches to the water, gave to the surroundings a
most weird and funereal aspect.

On May 29 we reached Lake Harney, whence we determined to make the
portage to Indian River. O'Toole was sent to look for some means of
moving our boat. He returned next day with two small black bulls yoked
to a pair of wheels such as are used by lumbermen. Their owner was a
compound of Caucasian, African, and Indian, with the shrewdness of the
white, the good temper of the negro, and the indolence of the red man.
He was at first exorbitant in his demands; but a little money, some
tobacco, and a spare fowling-piece made him happy, and he was ready to
let us drive his beasts to the end of the peninsula. It required some
skill to mount the boat securely on the wheels and to guard against any
upsets or collisions, for our escape depended upon carrying it safely
across.

The next morning we made an early start. Our course was an easterly one,
through a roadless, flat, sandy pine-barren, with an occasional thicket
and swamp. From the word "go" trouble with the bulls began. Their owner
seemed to think that in furnishing them he had fulfilled his part of the
contract. They would neither "gee" nor "haw"; if one started ahead, the
other would go astern. If by accident they started ahead together, they
would certainly bring up with their heads on each side of a tree.
Occasionally they would lie down in a pool to get rid of the flies, and
only by the most vigorous prodding could they be induced to move.

Paul, the owner, would loiter in the rear, but was always on hand when
we halted for meals. Finally we told him, "No work, no grub; no drive
bulls, no tobacco." This roused him to help us. Two days were thus
occupied in covering eighteen miles. It would have been less labor to
have tied the beasts, put them into the boat, and hauled it across the
portage. The weather was intensely hot, and our time was made miserable
by day with sand-flies, and by night with mosquitos.

The waters of Indian River were a most welcome sight, and we hoped that
most of our troubles were over. Paul and his bulls of Bashan were gladly
dismissed to the wilderness. Our first care was to make good any defects
in our boat: some leaks were stopped by a little calking and pitching.
Already our supply of provisions began to give us anxiety: only bacon
and sweet potatoes remained. The meal was wet and worthless, and, what
was worse, all our salt had dissolved. However, with the waters alive
with fish, and some game on shore, we hoped to pull through.

We reached Indian River, or lagoon, opposite Cape Carnaveral. It extends
along nearly the entire eastern coast of Florida, varying in width from
three to six miles, and is separated from the Atlantic by a narrow sand
ridge, which is pierced at different points by shifting inlets. It is
very shoal, so much so that we were obliged to haul our boat out nearly
half a mile before she would float, and the water is teeming with
stingarees, sword-fish, crabs, etc. But once afloat, we headed to the
southward with a fair wind.

For four days we continued to make good progress, taking advantage of
every fair wind by night as well as by day. Here, as on the St. John's
River, the same scene of desolation as far as human beings were
concerned was presented. We passed a few deserted cabins, around which
we were able to obtain a few cocoanuts and watermelons, a most welcome
addition to our slim commissariat. Unfortunately, oranges were not in
season. Whenever the breeze left us the heat was almost suffocating;
there was no escape for it. If we landed, and sought any shade, the
mosquitos would drive us at once to the glare of the sun. When sleeping
on shore, the best protection was to bury ourselves in the sand, with
cap drawn down over the head (my buckskin gauntlets proved invaluable);
if in the boat, to wrap the sail or tarpaulin around us. Besides this
plague, sand-flies, gnats, swamp-flies, ants, and other insects
abounded. The little black ant is especially bold and warlike. If, in
making our beds in the sand, we disturbed one of their hives, they would
rally in thousands to the attack, and the only safety was in a hasty
shake and change of residence. Passing Indian River inlet, the river
broadens, and there is a thirty-mile straight-away course to Gilbert's
Bar, or Old Inlet, now closed; then begin the Jupiter Narrows, where the
channel is crooked, narrow, and often almost closed by the dense growth
of mangroves, juniper, saw-grass, etc., making a jungle that only a
water-snake could penetrate. Several times we lost our reckoning, and
had to retreat and take a fresh start; an entire day was lost in these
everglades, which extend across the entire peninsula. Finally, by good
luck, we stumbled on a short "haulover" to the sea, and determined at
once to take advantage of it, and to run our boat across and launch her
in the Atlantic. A short half-mile over the sand-dunes, and we were
clear of the swamps and marshes of Indian River, and were reveling in
the Atlantic, free, at least for a time, from mosquitos, which had
punctured and bled us for the last three weeks.



On Sunday, June 4, we passed Jupiter Inlet, with nothing in sight. The
lighthouse had been destroyed the first year of the war. From this point
we had determined to cross Florida Channel to the Bahamas, about eighty
miles; but the wind was ahead, and we could do nothing but work slowly
to the southward, waiting for a slant. It was of course a desperate
venture to cross this distance in a small open boat, which even a
moderate sea would swamp. Our provisions now became a very serious
question. As I have said, we had lost all the meal, and the sweet
potatoes, our next main-stay, were sufficient only for two days more. We
had but little more ammunition than was necessary for our revolvers, and
these we might be called upon to use at any time. Very fortunately for
us, it was the time of the year when the green turtle deposits its eggs.
Russell and O'Toole were old beach-combers, and had hunted eggs before.
Sharpening a stick, they pressed it into the sand as they walked along,
and wherever it entered easily they would dig. After some hours' search
we were successful in finding a nest which had not been destroyed, and I
do not think prospectors were ever more gladdened by the sight of "the
yellow" than we were at our find. The green turtle's egg is about the
size of a walnut, with a white skin like parchment that you can tear,
but not break. The yolk will cook hard, but the longer you boil the egg
the softer the white becomes. The flavor is not unpleasant, and for the
first two days we enjoyed them; but then we were glad to vary the fare
with a few shell-fish and even with snails.



From Cape Carnaveral to Cape Florida the coast trends nearly north and
south in a straight line, so that we could see at a long distance
anything going up or down the shore. Some distance to the southward of
Jupiter Inlet we saw a steamer coming down, running close to the beach
to avoid the three-and four-knot current of the stream. From her yards
and general appearance I soon made her out to be a cruiser, so we hauled
our boat well up on the sands, turned it over on its side, and went back
among the palmettos. When abreast of us and not more than half a mile
off, with colors flying, we could see the officer of the deck and
others closely scanning the shore. We were in hopes they would look upon
our boat as flotsam and jetsam, of which there was more or less strewn
upon the beach. To our great relief, the cruiser passed us, and when she
was two miles or more to the southward we ventured out and approached
the boat, but the sharp lookout saw us, and, to our astonishment, the
steamer came swinging about, and headed up the coast. The question at
once arose, What was the best course to pursue? The general thought we
had better take to the bush again, and leave the boat, hoping they would
not disturb it. Colonel Wilson agreed with his chief. I told him that
since we had been seen, the enemy would certainly destroy or carry off
the boat, and the loss meant, if not starvation, at least privation, and
no hope of escaping from the country. Besides, the mosquitos would suck
us as dry as Egyptian mummies. I proposed that we should meet them
half-way, in company with Russell and O'Toole, who were paroled men, and
fortunately had their papers with them, and I offered to row off and see
what was wanted. He agreed, and, launching our boat and throwing in two
buckets of eggs, we pulled out. By this time the steamer was abreast of
us, and had lowered a boat which met us half-way. I had one oar, and
O'Toole the other. To the usual hail I paid no attention except to stop
rowing. A ten-oared cutter with a smart-looking crew dashed alongside.
The sheen was not yet off the lace and buttons of the youngster in
charge. With revolver in hand he asked us who we were, where we came
from, and where we were going. "Cap'n," said I, "please put away
that-ar pistol,--I don't like the looks of it,--and I'll tell you all
about us. We've been rebs and there ain't no use saying we weren't; but
it's all up now, and we got home too late to put in a crop, so we just
made up our minds to come down shore and see if we couldn't find
something. It's all right, Cap'n; we've got our papers. Want to see 'em?
Got 'em fixed up at Jacksonville." O'Toole and Russell handed him their
paroles, which he said were all right. He asked for mine. I turned my
pockets out, looked in my hat, and said: "I must er dropped mine in
camp, but 'tis just the same as theirn." He asked who was ashore. I told
him, "There's more of we-uns b'iling some turtle-eggs for dinner. Cap'n,
I'd like to swap some eggs for tobacco or bread." His crew soon produced
from the slack of their frocks pieces of plug, which they passed on
board in exchange for our eggs. I told the youngster if he'd come to
camp we'd give him as many as he could eat. Our hospitality was
declined. Among other questions he asked if there were any batteries on
shore--a battery on a beach where there was not a white man within a
hundred miles! "Up oars--let go forward--let fall--give 'way!" were all
familiar orders; but never before had they sounded so welcome. As they
shoved off, the coxswain said to the youngster, "That looks like a
man-of-war's gig, sir"; but he paid no attention to him. We pulled
leisurely ashore, watching the cruiser. The boat went up to the davits
at a run, and she started to the southward again. The general was very
much relieved, for it was a narrow escape.



The wind still holding to the southward and eastward, we could work
only slowly to the southward, against wind and current. At times we
suffered greatly for want of water; our usual resource was to dig for
it, but often it was so brackish and warm that when extreme thirst
forced its use the consequences were violent pains and retchings. One
morning we saw a few wigwams ashore, and pulled in at once and landed.
It was a party of Seminoles who had come out of the everglades like the
bears to gather eggs. They received us kindly, and we devoured
ravenously the remnants of their breakfast of fish and _kountee_. Only
the old chief spoke a little English. Not more than two or three hundred
of this once powerful and warlike tribe remain in Florida; they occupy
some islands in this endless swamp to the southward of Lake Okeechobee.
They have but little intercourse with the whites, and come out on the
coast only at certain seasons to fish. We were very anxious to obtain
some provisions from them, but excepting kountee they had nothing to
spare. This is an esculent resembling arrowroot, which they dig,
pulverize, and use as flour. Cooked in the ashes, it makes a palatable
but tough cake, which we enjoyed after our long abstinence from bread.
The old chief took advantage of our eagerness for supplies, and
determined to replenish his powder-horn. Nothing else would do; not even
an old coat, or fish-hooks, or a cavalry saber would tempt him. Powder
only he would have for their long, heavy small-bore rifles with
flintlocks, such as Davy Crockett used. We reluctantly divided with him
our very scant supply in exchange for some of their flour. We parted
good friends, after smoking the pipe of peace.



On the 7th, off New River Inlet, we discovered a small sail standing to
the northward. The breeze was very light, so we downed our sail, got out
our oars, and gave chase. The stranger stood out to seaward, and
endeavored to escape; but slowly we overhauled her, and finally a shot
caused her mainsail to drop. As we pulled alongside I saw from the dress
of the crew of three that they were man-of-war's men, and divined that
they were deserters. They were thoroughly frightened at first, for our
appearance was not calculated to impress them favorably. To our
questions they returned evasive answers or were silent, and finally
asked by what authority we had overhauled them. We told them that the
war was not over so far as we were concerned; that they were our
prisoners, and their boat our prize; that they were both deserters and
pirates, the punishment of which was death; but that under the
circumstances we would not surrender them to the first cruiser we met,
but would take their paroles and exchange boats. To this they
strenuously objected. They were well armed, and although we outnumbered
them five to three (not counting Tom), still, if they could get the
first bead on us the chances were about equal. They were desperate, and
not disposed to surrender their boat without a tussle. The general and I
stepped into their boat, and ordered the spokesman and leader to go
forward. He hesitated a moment, and two revolvers looked him in the
face. Sullenly he obeyed our orders. The general said, "Wilson, disarm
that man." The colonel, with pistol in hand, told him to hold up his
hands. He did so while the colonel drew from his belt a navy revolver
and a sheath-knife. The other two made no further show of resistance,
but handed us their arms. The crew disposed of, I made an examination of
our capture. Unfortunately, her supply of provisions was very
small--only some "salt-horse" and hardtack, with a breaker of fresh
water, and we exchanged part of them for some of our konatee and
turtles' eggs. But it was in our new boat that we were particularly
fortunate: sloop-rigged, not much longer than our gig, but with more
beam and plenty of freeboard, decked over to the mast, and well found in
sails and rigging. After our experience in a boat the gunwale of which
was not more than eighteen inches out of water, we felt that we had a
craft able to cross the Atlantic. Our prisoners, submitting to the
inevitable, soon made themselves at home in their new boat, became more
communicative, and wanted some information as to the best course by
which to reach Jacksonville or Savannah. We were glad to give them the
benefit of our experience, and on parting handed them their knives and
two revolvers, for which they were very thankful.

Later we were abreast of Green Turtle Key, with wind light and ahead;
still, with all these drawbacks, we were able to make some progress. Our
new craft worked and sailed well, after a little addition of ballast.
Before leaving the coast, we found it would be necessary to call at Fort
Dallas or some other point for supplies. It was running a great risk,
for we did not know whom we should find there, whether friend or foe.
But without at least four or five days' rations of some kind, it would
not be safe to attempt the passage across the Gulf Stream. However,
before venturing to do so, we determined to try to replenish our larder
with eggs. Landing on the beach, we hunted industriously for some hours,
literally scratching for a living; but the ground had evidently been
most effectually gone over before, as the tracks of bears proved. A few
onions, washed from some passing vessel, were eagerly devoured. We
scanned the washings along the strand in vain for anything that would
satisfy hunger. Nothing remained but to make the venture of stopping at
the fort. This fort, like many others, was established during the
Seminole war, and at its close was abandoned. It is near the mouth of
the Miami River, a small stream which serves as an outlet to the
overflow of the everglades. Its banks are crowded to the water's edge
with tropical verdure, with many flowering plants and creepers, all the
colors of which are reflected in its clear waters. The old barracks were
in sight as we slowly worked our way against the current. Located in a
small clearing, with cocoanut-trees in the foreground, the white
buildings made, with a backing of deep green, a very pretty picture. We
approached cautiously, not knowing with what reception we should meet.
As we neared the small wharf, we found waiting some twenty or thirty
men, of all colors, from the pale Yankee to the ebony Congo, all armed:
a more motley and villainous-looking crew never trod the deck of one of
Captain Kidd's ships. We saw at once with whom we had to deal--deserters
from the army and navy of both sides, with a mixture of Spaniards and
Cubans, outlaws and renegades. A burly villain, towering head and
shoulders above his companions, and whose shaggy black head scorned any
covering, hailed us in broken English, and asked who we were. Wreckers,
I replied; that we left our vessel outside, and had come in for water
and provisions. He asked where we had left our vessel, and her name,
evidently suspicious, which was not surprising, for our appearance was
certainly against us. Our head-gear was unique: the general wore a straw
hat that napped over his head like the ears of an elephant; Colonel
Wilson, an old cavalry cap that had lost its visor; another, a turban
made of some number 4 duck canvas; and all were in our shirt-sleeves,
the colors of which were as varied as Joseph's coat. I told him we had
left her to the northward a few miles, that a gunboat had spoken us a
few hours before, and had overhauled our papers, and had found them all
right. After a noisy powwow we were told to land, that our papers might
be examined. I said no, but if a canoe were sent off, I would let one of
our men go on shore and buy what we wanted. I was determined not to
trust our boat within a hundred yards of the shore. Finally a canoe
paddled by two negroes came off, and said no one but the captain would
be permitted to land. O'Toole volunteered to go, but the boatmen would
not take him, evidently having had their orders. I told them to tell
their chief that we had intended to spend a few pieces of gold with
them, but since he would not permit it, we would go elsewhere for
supplies. We got out our sweeps, and moved slowly down the river, a
light breeze helping us. The canoe returned to the shore, and soon some
fifteen or twenty men crowded into four or five canoes and dugouts, and
started for us. We prepared for action, determined to give them a warm
reception. Even Tom looked after his carbine, putting on a fresh cap.

Though outnumbered three to one, still we were well under cover in our
boat, and could rake each canoe as it came up. We determined to take all
the chances, and to open fire as soon as they came within range. I told
Russell to try a shot at one some distance ahead of the others. He broke
two paddles on one side and hit one man, not a bad beginning. This canoe
dropped to the rear at once; the occupants of the others opened fire,
but their shooting was wild from the motions of their small craft. The
general tried and missed; Tom thought he could do better than his
master, and made a good line shot, but short. The general advised
husbanding our ammunition until they came within easy range. Waiting a
little while, Russell and the colonel fired together, and the bowman in
the nearest canoe rolled over, nearly upsetting her. They were now
evidently convinced that we were in earnest, and, after giving us an
ineffectual volley, paddled together to hold a council of war. Soon a
single canoe with three men started for us with a white flag. We hove
to, and waited for them to approach. When within hail, I asked what was
wanted. A white man, standing in the stern, with two negroes paddling,
replied:

"What did you fire on us for? We are friends."

"Friends do not give chase to friends."

"We wanted to find out who you are."

"I told you who we are; and if you are friends, sell us some
provisions."

"Come on shore, and you can get what you want."

Our wants were urgent, and it was necessary, if possible, to make some
terms with them; but it would not be safe to venture near their lair
again. We told them that if they would bring us some supplies we would
wait, and pay them well in gold. The promise of gold served as a bait to
secure some concession. After some parleying it was agreed that O'Toole
should go on shore in their canoe, be allowed to purchase some
provisions, and return in two hours. The bucaneer thought the time too
short, but I insisted that if O'Toole were not brought back in two
hours, I would speak the first gunboat I met, and return with her and
have their nest of freebooters broken up. Time was important, for we had
noticed soon after we had started down the river a black column of smoke
ascending from near the fort, undoubtedly a signal to some of their
craft in the vicinity to return, for I felt convinced that they had
other craft besides canoes at their disposal; hence their anxiety to
detain us. O'Toole was told to be as dumb as an oyster as to ourselves,
but wide awake as to the designs of our dubious friends. The general
gave him five eagles for his purchase, tribute-money. He jumped into the
canoe, and all returned to the fort. We dropped anchor underfoot to
await his return, keeping a sharp lookout for any strange sail. The two
hours passed in pleasant surmises as to what he would bring off; another
half-hour passed, and no sign of his return; and we began to despair of
our anticipated feast, and of O'Toole, a bright young Irishman, whose
good qualities had endeared him to us all. The anchor was up, and slowly
with a light breeze we drew away from the river, debating what should be
our next move. The fort was shut in by a projecting point, and three or
four miles had passed when the welcome sight of a canoe astern made us
heave to. It was O'Toole with two negroes, a bag of hard bread, two
hams, some rusty salt pork, sweet potatoes, fruit, and, most important
of all, two breakers of water and a keg of New England rum. While
O'Toole gave us his experience, a ham was cut, and a slice between two
of hardtack, washed down with a jorum of rum and water, with a dessert
of oranges and bananas, was a feast to us more enjoyable than any ever
eaten at Delmonico's or the Café Riche. On his arrival on shore, our
ambassador had been taken to the quarters of Major Valdez, who claimed
to be an officer of the Federals, and by him he was thoroughly
cross-examined. He had heard of the breaking up of the Confederacy, but
not of the capture of Mr. Davis, and was evidently skeptical of our
story as to being wreckers, and connected us in some way with the losing
party, either as persons of note or a party escaping with treasure.
However, O'Toole baffled all his queries, and was proof against both
blandishments and threats. He learned what he had expected, that they
were looking for the return of a schooner; hence the smoke signal, and
the anxiety to detain us as long as possible. It was only when he saw us
leaving, after waiting over two hours, that the major permitted him to
make a few purchases and rejoin us.

Night, coming on, found us inside of Key Biscayne, the beginning of the
system of innumerable keys, or small islands, extending from this point
to the Tortugas, nearly two hundred miles east and west, at the
extremity of the peninsula. Of coral formation, as soon as it is built
up to the surface of the water it crumbles under the action of the sea
and sun. Sea-fowl rest upon it, dropping the seed of some marine plants,
or the hard mangrove is washed ashore on it, and its all-embracing roots
soon spread in every direction; so are formed these keys. Darkness and
shoal water warned us to anchor. We passed an unhappy night fighting
mosquitos. As the sun rose, we saw to the eastward a schooner of thirty
or forty tons standing down toward us with a light wind; no doubt it was
one from the fort sent in pursuit. Up anchor, up sail, out sweeps, and
we headed down Biscayne Bay, a shoal sheet of water between the reefs
and mainland. The wind rose with the sun, and, being to windward, the
schooner had the benefit of it first, and was fast overhauling us. The
water was shoaling, which I was not sorry to see, for our draft must
have been from two to three feet less than that of our pursuer, and we
recognized that our best chance of escape was by drawing him into shoal
water, while keeping afloat ourselves. By the color and break of the
water I saw that we were approaching a part of the bay where the shoals
appeared to extend nearly across, with narrow channels between them like
the furrows in a plowed field, with occasional openings from one channel
into another. Some of the shoals were just awash, others bare. Ahead was
a reef on which there appeared but very little water. I could see no
opening into the channel beyond. To attempt to haul by the wind on
either tack would bring us in a few minutes under fire of the schooner
now coming up hand over hand. I ordered the ballast to be thrown
overboard, and determined, as our only chance, to attempt to force her
over the reef. She was headed for what looked like a little breakwater
on our port bow. As the ballast went overboard we watched the bottom
anxiously; the water shoaled rapidly, and the grating of the keel over
the coral, with that peculiar tremor most unpleasant to a seaman under
any circumstances, told us our danger. As the last of the ballast went
overboard she forged ahead, and then brought up. Together we went
overboard, and sank to our waists in the black, pasty mud, through which
at intervals branches of rotten coral projected, which only served to
make the bottom more treacherous and difficult to work on. Relieved of a
half-ton of our weight, our sloop forged ahead three or four lengths,
and then brought up again. We pushed her forward some distance, but as
the water lessened, notwithstanding our efforts, she stopped.

Looking astern, we saw the schooner coming up wing and wing, not more
than a mile distant. Certainly the prospect was blue; but one chance was
left, to sacrifice everything in the boat. Without hesitation,
overboard went the provisions except a few biscuits; the oars were made
fast to the main-sheet alongside, and a breaker of water, the anchor and
chain, all spare rope, indeed everything that weighed a pound, was
dropped alongside, and then, three on each side, our shoulders under the
boat's bilges, at the word we lifted together, and foot by foot moved
her forward. Sometimes the water would deepen a little and relieve us;
again it would shoal. Between the coral-branches we would sink at times
to our necks in the slime and water, our limbs lacerated with the sharp
projecting points. Fortunately, the wind helped us; keeping all sail on,
thus for more than a hundred yards we toiled, until the water deepened
and the reef was passed. Wet, foul, bleeding, with hardly strength
enough to climb into the boat, we were safe at last for a time. As we
cleared the shoal, the schooner hauled by the wind, and opened fire from
a nine-or twelve-pounder; but we were at long range, and the firing was
wild. With a fair wind we soon opened the distance between us.

General Breckinridge, thoroughly used up, threw himself down in the
bottom of the boat; at which Tom, always on the lookout for his master's
comfort, said, "Marse John, s'pose you take a little rum and water."
This proposal stirred us all. The general rose, saying, "Yes, indeed,
Tom, I will; but where is the rum?" supposing it had been sacrificed
with everything else.



"I sees you pitchin' eberyt'ing away; I jes put this jug in hyar, 'ca'se
I 'lowed you'd want some."

Opening a looker in the transom, he took out the jug. Never was a potion
more grateful; we were faint and thirsty, and it acted like a charm,
and, bringing up on another reef, we were ready for another tussle.
Fortunately, this proved only a short lift. In the mean time the
schooner had passed through the first reef by an opening, as her skipper
was undoubtedly familiar with these waters. Still another shoal was
ahead; instead of again lifting our sloop over it, I hauled by the wind,
and stood for what looked like an opening to the eastward. Our pursuers
were on the opposite tack and fast approaching; a reef intervened, and
when abeam, distant about half a mile, they opened fire both with their
small arms and boat-gun. The second shot from the latter was well
directed; it grazed our mast and carried away the luff of the mainsail.
Several Minié balls struck on our sides without penetrating; we did not
reply, and kept under cover. When abreast of a break in the reef, we up
helm, and again went off before the wind. The schooner was now satisfied
that she could not overhaul us, and stood off to the northward.

Free from our enemy, we were now able to take stock of our supplies and
determine what to do. Our provisions consisted of about ten pounds of
hard bread, a twenty-gallon breaker of water, two thirds full, and three
gallons of rum. Really a fatality appeared to follow us as regards our
commissariat. Beginning with our first drenching on the St. John's,
every successive supply had been lost, and now what we had bought with
so much trouble yesterday, the sellers compelled us to sacrifice to-day.
But our first care was to ballast the sloop, for without it she was so
crank as to be unseaworthy. This was not an easy task; the shore of all
the keys, as well as that of the mainland in sight, was low and swampy,
and covered to the water's edge with a dense growth of mangroves. What
made matters worse, we were without any ground-tackle.

At night we were up to Elliott's Key, and anchored by making fast to a
sweep shoved into the muddy bottom like a shad-pole. When the wind went
down, the mosquitos came off in clouds. We wrapped ourselves in the
sails from head to feet, with only our nostrils exposed. At daylight we
started again to the westward, looking for a dry spot where we might
land, get ballast, and possibly some supplies. A few palm-trees rising
from the mangroves indicated a spot where we might find a little _terra
firma_. Going in as near as was prudent, we waded ashore, and found a
small patch of sand and coral elevated a few feet above the everlasting
swamp. Some six or eight cocoa-palms rose to the height of forty or
fifty feet, and under their umbrella-like tops we could see the bunches
of green fruit. It was a question how to get at it. Without saying a
word, Tom went on board the boat, brought off a piece of canvas, cut a
strip a yard long, tied the ends together, and made two holes for his
big toes. The canvas, stretched between his feet, embraced the rough
bark so that he rapidly ascended. He threw down the green nuts, and
cutting through the thick shell, we found about half a pint of milk. The
general suggested a little milk-punch. All the trees were stripped, and
what we did not use we saved for sea-stores.

To ballast our sloop was our next care. The jib was unbent, the sheet
and head were brought together and made into a sack. This was filled
with sand, and, slung on an oar, was shouldered by two and carried on
board.

Leaving us so engaged, the general started to try to knock over some of
the numerous water-fowl in sight. He returned in an hour thoroughly used
up from his struggles in the swamp, but with two pelicans and a white
crane. In the stomach of one of the first were a dozen or more mullet,
from six to nine inches in length which had evidently just been
swallowed. We cleaned them, and wrapping them in palmetto-leaves,
roasted them in the ashes, and they proved delicious. Tom took the birds
in hand, and as he was an old campaigner, who had cooked everything from
a stalled ox to a crow, we had faith in his ability to make them
palatable. He tried to pick them, but soon abandoned it, and skinned
them. We looked on anxiously, ready after our first course of fish for
something more substantial. He broiled them, and with a flourish laid
one before the general on a clean leaf, saying, "I's 'feared, Marse
John, it's tough as an old muscovy drake."

"Let me try it, Tom."

After some exertion he cut off a mouthful, while we anxiously awaited
the verdict. Without a word he rose and disappeared into the bushes.
Returning in a few minutes, he told Tom to remove the game. His tone and
expression satisfied us that pelican would not keep us from starving.
The colonel thought the crane might be better, but a taste satisfied us
that it was no improvement.

Hungry and tired, it was nearly night before we were ready to move; and,
warned by our sanguinary experience of the previous night, we determined
to haul off from the shore as far as possible, and get outside the range
of the mosquitos. It was now necessary to determine upon our future
course. We had abandoned all hope of reaching the Bahamas, and the
nearest foreign shore was that of Cuba, distant across the Gulf Stream
from our present position about two hundred miles, or three or four
days' sail, with the winds we might expect at this season. With the
strictest economy our provisions would not last so long. However, nearly
a month in the swamps and among the keys of Florida, in the month of
June, had prepared us to face almost any risk to escape from those
shores, and it was determined to start in the morning for Cuba. Well out
in the bay we hove to, and passed a fairly comfortable night; next day
early we started for Cæsar's Canal, a passage between Elliott's Key and
Key Largo. The channel was crooked and puzzling, leading through a
labyrinth of mangrove islets, around which the current of the Gulf
Stream was running like a sluice; we repeatedly got aground, when we
would jump overboard and push off. So we worked all day before we were
clear of the keys and outside among the reefs, which extend three or
four miles beyond. Waiting again for daylight, we threaded our way
through them, and with a light breeze from the eastward steered south,
thankful to feel again the pulsating motion of the ocean.

Several sail and one steamer were in sight during the day, but all at a
distance. Constant exposure had tanned us the color of mahogany, and our
legs and feet were swollen and blistered from being so much in the salt
water, and the action of the hot sun on them made them excessively
painful. Fortunately, but little exertion was now necessary, and our
only relief was in lying still, with an impromptu awning over us.
General Breckinridge took charge of the water and rum, doling it out at
regular intervals, a tot at a time, determined to make it last as long
as possible.

Toward evening the wind was hardly strong enough to enable us to hold
our own against the stream. At ten, Carysfort Light was abeam, and soon
after a dark bank of clouds rising in the eastern sky betokened a change
of wind and weather. Everything was made snug and lashed securely, with
two reefs in the mainsail, and the bonnet taken off the jib. I knew from
experience what we might expect from summer squalls in the straits of
Florida. I took the helm, the general the sheet, Colonel Wilson was
stationed by the halyards, Russell and O'Toole were prepared to bail.
Tom, thoroughly demoralized, was already sitting in the bottom of the
boat, between the general's knees. The sky was soon completely overcast
with dark lowering clouds; the darkness, which could almost be felt, was
broken every few minutes by lurid streaks of lightning chasing one
another through black abysses. Fitful gusts of wind were the heralds of
the coming blast. Great drops of rain fell like the scattering fire of a
skirmish-line, and with a roar like a thousand trumpets we heard the
blast coming, giving us time only to lower everything and get the stern
of the boat to it, for our only chance was to run with the storm until
the rough edge was taken off, and then heave to. I cried, "All hands
down!" as the gale struck us with the force of a thunderbolt, carrying a
wall of white water with it which burst over us like a cataract. I
thought we were swamped as I clung desperately to the tiller, though
thrown violently against the boom. But after the shock, our brave little
boat, though half filled, rose and shook herself like a spaniel. The
mast bent like a whip-stick, and I expected to see it blown out of her,
but, gathering way, we flew with the wind. The surface was lashed into
foam as white as the driven snow. The lightning and artillery of the
heavens were incessant, blinding, and deafening; involuntarily we bowed
our heads, utterly helpless. Soon the heavens were opened, and the
floods came down like a waterspout. I knew then that the worst of it had
passed, and though one fierce squall succeeded another, each one was
tamer. The deluge, too, helped to beat down the sea. To give an order
was impossible, for I could not be heard; I could only, during the
flashes, make signs to Russell and O'Toole to bail. Tying themselves and
their buckets to the thwarts, they went to work and soon relieved her of
a heavy load.



From the general direction of the wind I knew without compass or any
other guide that we were running to the westward, and, I feared, were
gradually approaching the dreaded reefs, where in such a sea our boat
would have been reduced to match-wood in a little while. Therefore,
without waiting for the wind or sea to moderate, I determined to heave
to, hazardous as it was to attempt anything of the kind. Giving the
colonel the helm, I lashed the end of the gaff to the boom, and then
loosed enough of the mainsail to goose-wing it, or make a leg-of-mutton
sail of it. Then watching for a lull or a smooth time, I told him to put
the helm a-starboard and let her come to on the port tack, head to the
southward, and at the same time I hoisted the sail. She came by the wind
quickly without shipping a drop of water, but as I was securing the
halyards the colonel gave her too much helm, bringing the wind on the
other bow, the boom flew round and knocked my feet from under me, and
overboard I went. Fortunately, her way was deadened, and as I came up I
seized the sheet, and with the general's assistance scrambled on board.
For twelve hours or more I did not trust the helm to any one. The storm
passed over to the westward with many a departing growl and threat. But
the wind still blew hoarsely from the eastward with frequent gusts
against the stream, making a heavy, sharp sea. In the trough of it the
boat was becalmed, but as she rose on the crest of the waves even the
little sail set was as much as she could stand up under, and she had to
be nursed carefully; for if she had fallen off, one breaker would have
swamped us, or any accident to sail or spar would have been fatal: but
like a gull on the waters, our brave little craft rose and breasted
every billow.

By noon the next day the weather had moderated sufficiently to make more
sail, and the sea went down at the same time. Then, hungry and thirsty,
Tom was thought of. During the gale he had remained in the bottom of the
boat as motionless as a log. As he was roused up, he asked:

"Marse John, whar is you, and whar is you goin'? 'Fore de Lord, I never
want to see a boat again."

"Come, Tom, get us something to drink, and see if there is anything left
to eat," said the general. But Tom was helpless.

The general served out a small ration of water and rum, every drop of
which was precious. Our small store of bread was found soaked, but, laid
in the sun, it partly dried, and was, if not palatable, at least a
relief to hungry men.

During the next few days the weather was moderate, and we stood to the
southward; several sail were in sight, but at a distance. We were
anxious to speak one even at some risk, for our supplies were down to a
pint of rum in water each day under a tropical sun, with two
water-soaked biscuits. On the afternoon of the second day a brig drifted
slowly down toward us; we made signals that we wished to speak her, and,
getting out our sweeps, pulled for her. As we neared her, the captain
hailed and ordered us to keep off. I replied that we were shipwrecked
men, and only wanted some provisions. As we rounded to under his stern,
we could see that he had all his crew of seven or eight men at quarters.
He stood on the taff-rail with a revolver in hand, his two mates with
muskets, the cook with a huge tormentor, and the crew with handspikes.

"I tell you again, keep off, or I'll let fly."

"Captain, we won't go on board if you will give us some provisions; we
are starving."

"Keep off, I tell you. Boys, make ready."

One of the mates drew a bead on me; our eyes met in a line over the
sights on the barrel. I held up my right hand.

"Will you fire on an unarmed man? Captain, you are no sailor, or you
would not refuse to help shipwrecked men."

"How do I know who you are? And I've got no grub to spare."

"Here is a passenger who is able to pay you," said I, pointing to the
general.

"Yes; I will pay for anything you let us have."

The captain now held a consultation with his officers, and then said:
"I'll give you some water and bread. I've got nothing else. But you must
not come alongside."

A small keg, or breaker, was thrown overboard and picked up, with a bag
of fifteen or twenty pounds of hardtack. This was the reception given us
by the brig _Neptune_ of Bangor. But when the time and place are
considered, we cannot wonder at the captain's precautions, for a more
piratical-looking party than we never sailed the Spanish main. General
Breckinridge, bronzed the color of mahogany, unshaven, with long
mustache, wearing a blue flannel shirt open at the neck, exposing his
broad chest, with an old slouch hat, was a typical bucaneer. Thankful
for what we had received, we parted company. Doubtless the captain
reported on his arrival home a blood-curdling story of his encounter
with pirates off the coast of Cuba.

"Marse John, I thought the war was done. Why didn't you tell dem folks
who you was?" queried Tom. The general told Tom they were Yankees, and
would not believe us. "Is dar any Yankees whar you goin'?--'ca'se if dar
is, we best go back to old Kentucky." He was made easy on this point,
and, with an increase in our larder, became quite perky. A change in the
color of the water showed us that we were on soundings, and had crossed
the Stream, and soon after we came in sight of some rocky islets, which
I recognized as Double-Headed Shot Keys, thus fixing our position; for
our chart, with the rest of our belongings, had disappeared, or had been
destroyed by water, and as the heavens, by day and night, were our only
guide, our navigation was necessarily very uncertain. For the next
thirty miles our course to the southward took us over Salt Key Bank,
where the soundings varied from three to five fathoms, but so clear was
the water that it was hard to believe that the coral, the shells, and
the marine flowers were not within arm's reach. Fishes of all sizes and
colors darted by us in every direction. The bottom of the bank was a
constantly varying kaleidoscope of beauty. But to starving men, with not
a mouthful in our grasp, this display of food was tantalizing. Russell,
who was an expert swimmer, volunteered to dive for some conchs and
shell-fish; oysters there were none. Asking us to keep a sharp lookout
on the surface of the water for sharks, which generally swim with the
dorsal fin exposed, he went down and brought up a couple of live conchs
about the size of a man's fist. Breaking the shell, we drew the
quivering body out. Without its coat it looked like a huge grub, and not
more inviting. The general asked Tom to try it.

"Glory, Marse John, I'm mighty hungry, nebber so hungry sense we been in
de almy, and I'm just ready for ole mule, pole-cat, or anyt'ing 'cept
dis worm."

After repeated efforts to dissect it we agreed with Tom, and found it
not more edible than a pickled football. However, Russell, diving again,
brought up bivalves with a very thin shell and beautiful colors, in
shape like a large pea-pod. These we found tolerable; they served to
satisfy in some small degree our craving for food. The only drawback was
that eating them produced great thirst, which is much more difficult to
bear than hunger. We found partial relief in keeping our heads and
bodies wet with salt water.

On the sixth day from the Florida coast we crossed Nicholas Channel with
fair wind. Soon after we made the Cuban coast, and stood to the
westward, hoping to sight something which would determine our position.
After a run of some hours just outside of the coral-reefs, we sighted in
the distance some vessels at anchor. As we approached, a large town was
visible at the head of the bay, which proved to be Cardenas. We offered
prayful thanks for our wonderful escape, and anchored just off the
custom-house, and waited some time for the health officer to give us
pratique. But as no one came off in answer to our signals, I went on
shore to report at the custom-house. It was some time before I could
make them comprehend that we were from Florida, and anxious to land.
Their astonishment was great at the size of our boat, and they could
hardly believe we had crossed in it. Our arrival produced as much
sensation as would that of a liner. We might have been filibusters in
disguise. The governor-general had to be telegraphed to; numerous papers
were made out and signed; a register was made out for the sloop _No
Name_; then we had to make a visit to the governor before we were
allowed to go to a hotel to get something to eat. After a cup of coffee
and a light meal I had a warm bath, and donned some clean linen which
our friends provided.

We were overwhelmed with attentions, and when the governor-general
telegraphed that General Breckinridge was to be treated as one holding
his position and rank, the officials became as obsequious as they had
been overbearing and suspicious. The next day one of the
governor-general's aides-de-camp arrived from Havana, with an
invitation for the general and the party to visit him, which we
accepted, and after two days' rest took the train for the capital. A
special car was placed at our disposal, and on our arrival the general
was received with all the honors. We were driven to the palace, had a
long interview, and dined with Governor-General Concha. The transition
from a small open boat at sea, naked and starving, to the luxuries and
comforts of civilized life was as sudden as it was welcome and
thoroughly appreciated.

At Havana our party separated. General Breckinridge and Colonel Wilson
have since crossed the great river; Russell and O'Toole returned to
Florida. I should be glad to know what has become of faithful Tom.