This morning a huge lighter arrived, sent by Mr. L. for me to load with wood, but it could not get under the bridge until low water. Had Scipio paddle me up the creek to the landing to see the flat being loaded. Cubby and Sam were loading and they will get off on this evening's tide. The creek is very wild looking; great trees on each side cast a dense shadow everywhere. Hearing a curious noise of floundering I saw a large alligator crawling through the mud on the edge. He had gone quite a distance from the water in his effort to get the sun, and I had a fine view of him before he plunged in again. They make for the water as soon as they hear a boat approaching. I saw him again as I came back, only for one second, but I saw a number of terrapin sunning themselves on logs. They stretch their long necks and peer with their beady black eyes until the boat gets quite close to them and then drop into the water like a stone with a great splash.
About a month ago I got a note from Mr. L. asking me to allow four negro men to cut 100 cords of wood on my land and he would be responsible for the money, $25. I sent word that I would undertake to have the wood cut for him myself with pleasure, but would not sell it for 25 cents per cord at the stump. I heard afterward that a neighbor had sold them the right to cut on their land, and when I went to the landing to-day I saw about fifty cords of the wood they had cut piled there, and it was the most splendid fat lightwood I ever saw, from trees that had been growing on that land sixty or seventy years. And the owner gets 25 cents a cord, while the wood brings $2 anywhere.
March 23.
Late this afternoon I went up the creek to see the flat that Cubby is loading with wood. The creek seemed darker and more mysterious than ever, as the clouds were lowering and there were mutterings of thunder. The air was perfectly delightful, fresh from the sea.
I enjoyed the expedition immensely until the storm burst, and then Gabriel was unable to manage the boat at all, the wind was so high. I had to get him to retreat to a cove and put me out, and I walked home in a pouring rain, thunder, lightning fierce, and wind so high that it was impossible to hold an umbrella. I am very thankful the loaded flat is up the creek and not out on the river. To-day my new venture arrived—an incubator. I do not see why we could not operate poultry farms with success here, and will give it a trial at any rate.
April 3.
Letter from Mr. L. says the wood sent in three flats only measures up thirty-three cords, when I paid the hands for cutting and hauling forty cords. Fortunately I reserved some money from each one until the wood should be delivered; but another time I will not take any one's measurement but Mr. L.'s, for after it is measured each man carries home five or six logs every evening in his ox cart, and naturally the wood falls short when delivered. I had to do an immense deal of rule of three calculating to find out just how to divide the shortage among them, but succeeded to every one's satisfaction. Live and learn—I will not get caught so again. I spent the morning working in the negro burying ground. Storms have thrown down trees in every direction, and though all the descendants of the 600 who belonged to my father wish to be buried here, not one is willing to do a stroke of work beyond digging the grave he is interested in.
I have told the heads of families that if they will each give 25 cents, which will make enough to pay for a good wire, I will furnish posts and have the fence put up. They seem much pleased at the idea, but I fear it will end there.
I am glad the two marble monuments put up by my father in memory of faithful servants before I was born have thus far escaped injury and still tell their message of love and fidelity in master and servant. The wording is odd, but I think it is a beautiful voice from the past, that past which has been painted in such black colors. Here is the first inscription:—
In Memory of
Joe of Warhees,
Who with fidelity served
My Grandfather
Wm Allston Sen'r
My Father
Benj Allston and Me
Grateful
Whose Confidence and
Respect He had
1840