Way up the river Pedee
Where the moon shines bright
And the stars give light,
Way up the river Pedee.”
How we shook hands and yelled it out. The rain poured, the wind drew northwest dead ahead, but tide and a strong one was fair and the launch was hitting it hop, skip and jump, so who cares.
About six miles upstream and six miles below Georgetown we noted on our chart the entrance to the little creek which is the beginning of the inside route towards Charleston. With the last of the light of the last day of the year we found the little opening in the marsh and snuggled into the quiet water mighty gladly and ran her plump aground on the mud of the eastern bank. We were too tickled at ending our long razzle dazzle to hurry about pushing off, especially as tide was flooding in river outside. There’s where we missed it for tide was dropping in the creek and soon, work all we could, we never budged her and had to run out guy lines to keep from bilging. Mighty little difference that made to us for we were in that kind of shape that lets you go right on working. Not very hard and with mighty little reasoning in it, but still working. While we were mussing around we heard the cry of hounds and soon a big doe took water not twenty yards away, slowly swam the creek and with much effort managed to crawl up the other bank about tuckered out. She looked at us a moment, and then disappeared in the high sedge. The hounds were close up and soon hustling up and down the bank, but none would take water and H. and I sat down to spend our new year’s eve mighty well pleased to think of that deer snugly resting up in some thicket just as we were in our warm little cabin. Honest injun, I was never better pleased to make snug harbor in my life for I had been practically sixty hours without sleep except at odd half hours and had been driving boat under strenuous conditions for over fifty hours. I should have been all in, but I wasn’t at all and I couldn’t see or feel that I didn’t stand the racket as well as I used to in my twenties. Gee, but it’s fine to be in such shape again. H. pulled along all right, too, but insisted upon going to sleep anywhere and everywhere. I must break him of this habit if possible, for it leaves him scarcely any time for eating and none for work.
January 1st, 1913. New Year’s Day. Comes pouring rain, and at 2:30 a.m. for mine. Got Mascot afloat but couldn’t handle her alone in tideway and had to call H. on deck. Hanged if the boy wasn’t asleep again. Soon snugged up and after a hot mug-up turned in for some good rest. Turned out about eight and felt fine. Barometer rising. Sky clearing. Wind a beauty at northwest and just what the doctor ordered for round Cape Romain to Charleston outside. Nix on the outside said H. when I finally shook him awake. Afraid I can never beat any ambition into the lad. Can’t understand what a funny lot of insides I must have. I am only just over being pretty well scared up and am already beginning to want to try it again. I’ll get “ketched” good and plenty some day, but I hope that when I do I may be alone. The day was warm, bright and full of sunlight. We dolled up the ship. Cleaned up gasoline tank and in the afternoon walked into the big forest of live oak and long-leaved pine. A day of perfect content and rest. Boiled and roasted a ham which turned out deliciously. Only one thing to mar the peace of our new year’s day and that was a sharp attack of delirium tremens suffered by Scotty. During the blow a small can of white paint upset in cockpit and I suspicion that she ate some. Anyway her tail went right over her back like that animal’s in the pictures of our old geographies which hangs all its young ones upside down on its tail. Her hind legs went 200 to the minute and her front ones only 25. This landed her repeatedly on her head which must have been distressing. In an hour she seemed all O. K. again and except for being a bit dopey has stayed so. Mighty anxious we were, for Scotty is full 50% of this trip. Today an old nigger rowing down stream stopped to gam. He said was all kinds of varmint hereabout. Coons, possums, rabbits, deer and turkeys. No lions or tigers except some 30 miles back in the lumber. Said wild cows wouldn’t hurt us, and that children could walk alone on any of the roads, which was both interesting and comforting. A tug with big ¼ mile log boom swung by us at noon. These are mean, unruly visitors and are mighty apt to do you damage. This one got by without hitting us, but we had to fend off once or twice. For supper we broached a bottle of White Rock and with much ceremony toasted family and absent friends. So ended our New Year’s, 1913.
January 2nd. Woke about 2 a.m. to a fearful bump and swash. What next? says I, and tumbled out. Out of the inky black under my bows I saw a big dark shape lift out of water some five or six feet and fall back with a swash. Alligators this time I bet. No such thing, but a big 30 ft. log 12 to 15 inches in diameter caught in a bight of one of our lines. Had good luck in getting it clear and stranded it inside of us where it now lies. “Something doing from one to eleven at the Old Howard.” On deck in a hurry again at four when a tug steamed by with what looked like another log boom but proved to be something else. Out again for breakfast at seven and Henry, well provisioned, started for Georgetown in the launch to get gasoline, provisions, etc., while I stayed aboard to keep ship. Engine not going right yet, and I listened long to its jumps and skips until out of hearing. If he finds a good engine man he may stay overnight and get it fixed up shipshape for we must depend upon it entirely from now on. Come back soon “mon petit Asticot” for I miss you sadly and feel pretty far away among the wild cows.
Scandalously tricky weather do we have. Here H. started at 9 this morning with as pretty a day as one could ask for and old barom. showing nothing else. By eleven clouds made up from south, glass began a slide and by 2 p.m. it was pelting rain with barometer still on the toboggan. Rain all p.m. and all evening. I couldn’t expect H. to come back, but how I did listen for the skip-and-go-one sound of that little motor. I missed him like the devil and no mistake. Hope he isn’t nosing round out there in rain and dark with engine broken down and no Scotty. Had a fine black bean soup with croutons all ready for him, too. I am used to being on a boat alone, but I am mighty lonesey tonight just the same. This is our first night apart in three months and a black creek in the marsh is none too cheerful a place at night anyway. By nine o’clock things were doing. Wind pricking on every minute, rain swishing across decks with roar and barometer still on the drop. I turned in but not to sleep. I had my spinnaker pole driven deep in the clay mud at edge of deep water, but it was a flimsy thing to depend on. There had been no flood tide all day, an uncanny sort of thing. By eleven o’clock the gale was on at south and a full-fledged one to boot. I dressed and crawled into my boots and oilers for the tide had started flooding with a rush and every half hour I had to raise the guy lines on my pole to keep it in position. The barometer dropped to 29, nine points in 12 hours. Don’t remember such a drop in many a day. How high the tide might go was guesswork, but if the westerly shift which I knew would come caught me on top of a big tide it would be into the bulrushes for little Harry and make a duck stand out of Mascot.