Petals Plucked from Sunny Climes

by A. M. Brooks

CHAPTER XXI.

Meantime the steady wind serenely blew,
And fast and falcon-like the vessel flew.

DOES any one know what a sailing-voyage, in a coasting-vessel, from Tampa to Key West—a distance of two hundred and fifty miles—implies? Some may suppose it to be a kind of flying motion through the air, or skimming swiftly over the waters, like a sea-gull in rough weather; but those who have tried the experiment find it quite the reverse. It means a little good sailing, an occasional fine breeze thrown in, with many disagreeable things to be encountered and forgotten as soon as possible. For instance, the first night after leaving, under favorable appearances, the wind dies out, the mainsail hangs flabby as a beggar’s rags in a thunder-shower; the sailors lower the canvas, put out the anchor, and all retire. Numerous drum-fish select the hull of the vessel as their camping-ground, where they serenade us all night with a peculiar drumming noise, while the loon from the shore catches the refrain, and utters its unearthly screams, which disturb our repose, mingling with dreams of hideous mien. The mattress is hard as Pharaoh’s heart. Bilge-water keeps the cabin supplied with an odor resembling sulphur-spring surroundings. Fleas enter the list of perplexities, to draw rations from our perishable nature, run races, and practice acrobatic movements on our bodies, with astonishing facility. Roaches as long as your little finger look at us as if meditating a fierce attack, which, if executed, must result in our annihilation. Three small children lying close by are screaming alternately, from interrupted slumbers, caused by advances from the insect tribe. Their father, who is a Methodist preacher, applies hand-plasters, which silence the batteries temporarily. This will be found a charming place for the exercise of patience, without the fortitude of Job to endure trials. Day dawns, and with it comes breakfast. Strong coffee, seasoned with highly-colored sugar, the mixture stirred with a table-knife, and drunk from a tin cup, together with well-salted meat, fried eggs, and hard-tack, furnish the repast. Unpalatable as this food appears to an epicurean taste, the sailors devour it with a relish, as it gives them strength to endure many hardships. The morning wind is fair, although light, and we are sailing again toward Terrasilla Bay, which is a portion of Tampa, bearing another name. The sugar-crop is waiting for shipment to Key West, and our invoice not being full, we stop for freight. Numerous bars line this bay, where oysters of a delicious flavor, and clams of immense size—some of them weighing three pounds, with the shell—are obtained at low tide without dredging.

For the benefit of those lady-passengers who, perchance, may travel this way, and have never been borne in arms since they were children, we can tell you there are no wharves here, no throwing out of planks, no stopping-places for ladies, between water and land. The vessel sails as near the shore as possible without grounding, and then the passengers on board are carried to terra firma. This is done by two sailors, who make a kind of seat by clasping their hands together, after which they receive the living freight. You put out each arm, and clasp your improvised sedan around their necks, to keep from falling. Sometimes one of the sailors is as black as tar; but it makes no difference—“civil rights” is not the question at issue now. You cannot wade, or wet your feet, and they will carry you safely, this being a portion of their duties, for which they are paid.

Terrasilla Island is one of those charming spots which all admire, but none can describe. The principal inhabitant is Madam Joe, a German lady, celebrated for her hospitality. Here she came, with her husband, after the Florida war, to occupy lands given them by the Government. An adventure of some kind was then of daily occurrence. Nature poured forth her beauties in solitude, and from the dark recesses of the primitive forest-wilderness were echoed and reëchoed the war-whoop of the Indian, the howl of the jaguar, the scream of the catamount, and the threatening growl of old bruin. The rough hands, stalwart frame, and nut-brown face of this lady, indicate a life to which ease and idleness are unknown. Her home is now transformed from a wilderness to a place which recalls our youthful images of fairy-land. Here you constantly feel as though you were having a beautiful dream, which may be dissipated by some external irruption, and the spell broken. How delightful to any one who has a constant warfare with life to keep himself master of the situation is a visit to this beautiful island, where only the winds and waves strive for victory, and the excesses practiced in refined society are unknown! where orange-trees grow as tall as Lombardy poplars, and are laden with fruit hanging in luxuriant loveliness, designed to delight all those who partake. It is now February; new Irish potatoes, tomatoes, with green peas, and egg-plants, are abundant. Fresh flowers are in their bloom and beauty; the earth is enameled with the white petals of the forget-me-not, in lieu of the snow-banks which cover the ground farther North. Roses of immense size are open, together with verbenas of varied hues, geraniums, salvias, periwinkles, and corkwood-trees, all exhaling their fragrance in the open air. Here in this beauteous bower Madam Joe, after her day’s duties are done, walks, with the bright moonbeams shining on her pathway, singing those German patriotic melodies so dear to the heart of every wanderer from the historic shores and vine-clad hills of the River Rhine—thus forming a symphony with the ebbing tide of briny waters by which her home is surrounded.

A young couple from Alabama are staying here, who have come with the intention of settling. Romance has never written any thing more rural, nor the imagination of a poet conceived thoughts which savor more of poesy, than the real life which they lead. He lost an arm while battling for his country, but his courage has never failed him. With a little assistance he has built a palmetto and pole house, which subserves the purpose of sitting-room and bed-room. The white sand blows in sometimes, during the day, from the beach, falling on the bed, converting the pillows into friction-brushes, and the young wife’s temper into an irritated condition. She cooks their food under rustling palms, while he reads to her from some interesting book. She accompanies him in his hunting expeditions, to carry home the game, which is their principal subsistence. Adam and Eve, when first placed in the garden of Eden, were not less solicitous for a support than this couple appear in their rustic home. The land bordering on Sarasota Bay contains some portions of country as uncivilized as when the savage glided across its green waters, or his voice rang through its uncultured forests. The climate is delightful beyond description—the air “soft as the memory of buried love.” Here, in appearance, must be located the Enchanted Isles, where cold, heat, or hunger were unknown, where roamed the white deer, which the red man worshiped as a god, that lived and fed from the delicate mosses, silken as a mermaid’s hair, slender and feathery as a pencil of light when it first reaches the earth at the early blush of morn. Some old fogies, who have lived here for many years, express opposition to new settlements being made, and say “it will spile their cattle-range.” Stock-raising has been the only money-making employment of the population since they lived here. They are not informed with regard to other branches of industry, or their successful prosecution. Broad acres, with pastures green, on which range the wild herds, have been the standard of their wealth heretofore. Persons wishing to settle in a country always inquire about its healthfulness. There exists no malaria, or disease of any kind. The settlers live mostly on the bay, where, from constant evaporation, the waters are more briny than the Atlantic. The land is interspersed with rich hummock, underlying which is a stratum of marl. A great variety of wild fruits are found in the woods, the principal kinds being the fox-grape, octagonal cactus that produces a delicious fruit, tamarinds, sugar-apples, poporea, and sea-grape—all indigenous. The Lima bean bears during the entire year. The pine-apple culture has proved a success. The Palma Christi and bird-pepper grow into perennial plants, living and producing many years. The change of seasons in South Florida is imperceptible, while in more Northern clinics autumn, with stately tread and Tyrian-dyed train, assumes her sway, bearing fruits of scarlet and gold, that are gathered in haste, for fear the rude blasts will freeze out their luscious, juicy qualities; but here there is no suspense of vegetation. Many times during the winter months a soft haze, accompanied by a more tender and less glaring light, over-spreads the land and sea, when the sun shines as it shines in the Northern Indian summer. It is during these halcyon days, when nature appears transfigured for a time into an abode fit for angels, that we love to sit and muse upon this lovely scene, with feelings too sacred for confidants, too pure for earth. Many tourists, in traveling, expect all their schemes to roll on electric wheels, without rocks or ruts in the roads, or any hilly eminences to impede them; but we must all remember that patience is a plant which flourishes in a pure atmosphere, with its petals fanned by the breath of heaven, while its roots are nourished by the great moral principles that radiate from a pure heart. As the motive-power that takes visitors through and about this country bears no resemblance to a “lightning express,” many exclamations are made by those who have to endure these irregularities incident to a new country that would read badly in print.

Off the shore of Sarasota Bay fishing-smacks are engaged at all seasons in obtaining supplies for the Havana market. These little vessels contain a well where the water can be changed, and the fish kept alive until sold. The most delicious fish of all found in these waters is the pompano, which resembles the California salmon, both in color and flavor. It is only taken at night by striking with a harpoon. In some portions of the bay the finest oysters grow that are found on any coast.

Mangrove-thickets also abound, which in some places form an almost impassable barrier to navigation. This tree resembles the banyan of India, in throwing out stolons, besides the leaf-bearing limbs, that incline downward, thus taking root, and producing other plants, which grow into trees. They are only natives of a tropical shore, where they root in the mud and form a dense thicket to the verge of the ocean. Oyster-shells and sea-urchins attach themselves, hanging in clusters, which form an unapproachable defense.