Toward daylight, however, my companions had contrived to make up a sickly fire, in the smoke of which I sought refuge from the mosquitoes and sand-flies, and became soothed and sooty at the same time. Day came at last, but the sun was obscured, and things were but slight improvement on the night. I found that we were on a narrow strip of sand, scarcely two hundred yards wide, covered with scrubby bushes, interspersed with a few twisted trees, looking like weather-beaten skeletons, beyond which was the sea, dark and threatening, under a gray, filmy sky. Antonio predicted a storm, what he called a temporal, during which it often rains steadily for a week. Under the circumstances, it became a pregnant question what to do: whether to return down the lagoon to some more eligible spot for an encampment, or to push out boldly on the ocean, and make an effort to gain the mouth of a large river, some miles up the coast, called Rio Grande or Great River.
I resolved upon the latter course, and we dragged the canoe across the haulover. Although the surf was not high, we had great difficulty in launching our boat, which was effected by my companions, who, stationed one on each side, seized a favorable moment, as the waves fell, to drag it beyond the line of breakers. While one kept it stationary with his paddle, the other, watching his opportunity, carried off the articles one by one, and finally, stripping myself, I mounted on Antonio’s shoulders, and was deposited like a sack in the boat. We paddled out until we got a good offing, then put up our sail, and laid our course north-north-west. The coast was dim and indistinct, but I had great faith in the Poyer boy, whose judgment had thus far never failed. About four o’clock in the afternoon, we came in sight of a knoll or high bank, which, covered with large trees, rises on the north side of the mouth of Great River, constituting an excellent landmark. I was in no wise sorry to find ourselves nearing it rapidly, for the wind began to freshen, and I feared lest it might raise such a surf on the bar of the river as to prevent us from entering. In fact, the waves had begun to break at the shallower places on the bar, while elsewhere the north-east wind drove over the water in heavy swells. The sail was hastily gathered in, and my Indians, seizing their paddles, watched the seventh, or crowning wave, and, by vigorous exertion, cheering each other with shouts, kept the canoe at its crest, and thus we were swept majestically over the bar, into the comparatively quiet water beyond it. Half an hour afterward, the great waves broke on the very spot where we had crossed, in clouds of spray, and with the noise of thunder!
The mouth of Great River is broad, but entirely exposed to the north-east; and, although it is a large stream, the water on its bar is not more than five or six feet deep, shutting out all large vessels, which otherwise might go up a long way into the country. There are several islands near the mouth. On the innermost one, which toward the sea is bluff and high, we made our encampment. It appeared to me as favorable a spot as we could find, whereon to await the temporal which Antonio had predicted, and the approach of which became apparent to even the most unpracticed observer. Fortunately, with Harris’ turtles, we felt easy on the score of food. So we dragged the canoe high up on the bank, and while I kindled a fire, my companions busied themselves in constructing a shelter over the boat. Stout forked stakes were planted at each end of the canoe, to support a ridge-pole, with other shorter ones supporting the outer poles. To these, canes were lashed transversely, and over all was woven a thatch of cahoon, or palmetto-leaves. Outside, and on a line with the eaves, a little trench was dug, to carry off the water, and preserve the interior from being flooded by what might run down the slope of the ground. So rapidly was all this done, that before it was quite dark the hut was so far advanced as to enable us to defy the rain, which soon began to fall in torrents. The strong sea wind drove off the mosquitos to the bush on the mainland, so that I slept comfortably and well, in spite of the thunder of the sea and the roaring of the wind.
For eight days it rained almost uninterruptedly. Sometimes, between nine and eleven o’clock, and for perhaps an hour near sunset, there would be a pause, and a lull in the wind, and a general lighting up of the leaden sky, as if the sun were about to break through. But the clouds would gather again darker than ever, and the rain set in with a steady pouring unknown in northern latitudes. For eight mortal days we had no ray of sun, or moon, or star! Every iron thing became thickly coated with rust; our plantains began to spot, and our dried fish to grow soft and mouldy, requiring to be hung over the small fire which we contrived to keep alive, in one corner of our extemporaneous hut.
TEMPORAL CAMP.
After the third day, the water in the river began to rise, and during the night rose more than eight feet. On the fifth day the current was full of large trees, their leaves still green, which seemed to be bound together with vines. In the afternoon down came the entire thatched roof of a native hut, which lodged against our island, bringing us a most acceptable freight, in the shape of a plump two-months old pig. His fellow-voyager—strange companionship!—was a tame parrot, with clipped wings, who looked melancholy enough when rescued, but who, after getting dry in our hut, and soothing his appetite on my plantains, first became mirthful, then boisterous, and finally mischievous. He was immediately installed as one of the party, and made more noise in the world than all the rest. To me he proved an unfailing source of amusement. He was respectful toward Antonio, but vicious toward the Poyer boy, and never happy except when cautiously stealing to get a bite at his toes. When successful in this he became wild with delight, and as noisy and vehement as a lucky Frenchman. It was one of his prime delights to gnaw off the corks of my bottles; and he was possessed of a most insane desire to get inside of my demijohn, mistaking it, perhaps, for a wicker cage, from which he imagined himself wrongfully excluded. Antonio called him “El Moro,” the Moor, for what reason I did not understand, and the name suiting me as well as any other, I baptized him with water, “El Moro,” and got an ugly pinch on the wrist for my blasphemy.
Our young porker escaped drowning only to fall into the hands of the Philistines; we had nothing to feed him; he might get away; he was, moreover, invitingly fat; so we incontinently cut his throat, and ate him up!
During our imprisonment, my companions were not idle. Upon the island were many mohoe-trees, the bark of which is tough, and of a fine, soft, white fibre. Of this they collected considerable quantities, which the Poyer boy braided into a sort of cap, designed as the foundation of the elegant feather head-dress which he afterward gave me; while Antonio, more utilitarian, wove a small net, not unlike that which we use to catch crabs. He at once put it into requisition to catch craw-fish, which abounded among the rocks to the seaward of the island. But before entering upon the subject of craw-fish, I may say that the mohoe bark, from its fine quality, and the abundance in which it may be procured, might be made exceedingly useful for the manufacture of paper—an article now becoming scarce and dear.
The cray or craw-fish resemble the lobster, but are smaller in size, and want the two great claws. Their flesh has more flavor than that of either the crab or lobster, and we found them an acceptable addition to our commissariat. There were many wood-pigeons and parrots on the island, but my gun had got in such a state, from the damp, that I did not attempt to use it.