January 25th. The night warm and muggy with torrential rain showers. The morning dull and warm. Were under way by 8 and crossing Altamaha Sound, entered a creek far more attractive than any we had been in for some time. At times we ran close to heavy wood where the big live oaks with long wavy, mossy beards dropped to touch the stream. Here we saw an army of buzzards feasting on some dead carcass. Rather a horrid sight, that. Cloud and sunlight with breeze to southard right in our eye so we let the kicker do the pushing. To-day we first saw orange trees in fruit and great flocks of white herons. The air soft, and truly balmy, not like real air at all. It somehow fails to satisfy. Doesn’t seem to fill the lungs. By noon to St. Simon’s Sound, where we struck the fiercest of ebb tides. Nobody ever told me about these tides. There is a rise and fall of 7 feet and with kicker going strong and braced to a light air, we could not gain and over yank in deep water where we had to give 15 fath. scope. The tide was running better than 4 knots and that’s some tide. A beautiful afternoon and I boiled and roasted half a ham besides a duck which H. got yesterday on the wing with the rifle. Also made my ninth canvas ballast bag all French seamed and Bristol Fashion. At 5 p.m. tide slacked, and we made our next creek and anchored soon after for the night. We can make neither head nor tail of these creek tides and just have to go when they serve and drop over hook when they don’t. Sometimes one sound will dominate the tide in a connecting stream, sometimes the other, and the time of change cannot be judged by change in either sound, but depends upon size of water body drained by that special stream. Local knowledge alone can solve the problem. Under these conditions and with head winds we make but slow progress and must be satisfied with 10, 15, sometimes 20 miles a day. To-day we passed the plantation of Frederica, where John Wesley established Methodism in this country. A deserted, tumbled down outfit to-day, but has the well preserved ruin of a big stone fort at water’s edge built, I suppose, against Indian attack.
January 26th. Turned out early for a good try at Fernandina, but had to give it up as an impenetrable fog set in at daylight. In a lift we worked out to the shores of Jekyl Sound, but dared not poke my nose out into the fog and tide. Passed Edwin Gould’s beautiful place on Jekyl Island but the whole thing is monotonously flat which must, after a while, become very tiresome unless your interest all rests in the shooting and fishing. Nasty little midges like black flies pester us considerably and we will have to use dope if they continue. This morning, while the fog kept us at anchor we put a strap around stern of launch and with main boom as swinging crane hoisted boat far enough out of water to repack stuffing box. She seems pretty tight now and it is a great relief for there have been a good many nights when we feared she might sink before morning. On turn of tide at noon fog lifted and we were away with the tide racing us seaward. Turned a little past light and began the long, hard buck against the tide in St. Andrew’s Sound for these two Sounds, Jekyl’s and St. Andrew’s, meet and flow to sea as one. We were precious lucky in having a nice little breeze come out of the southeast and with sheets broad to starboard and kicker kicking for all it was worth, we made fair headway by nicking into shoal water under the shores of Little Cumberland Island. This island, like big Cumberland, is far and away the best looking bit of sand we have seen in many a day. Good sand dunes and fine woods. Big Cumberland belongs to Andy Carnegie and I wonder if Oliver Ricketson isn’t within a mile of me as I write, for, after bucking tide until 5:30 the fog shut in again with rain, and we over anchor quick, quick, only a little way from a good looking outfit near shore of the island. Had good supper of fried oysters with slices of Virginia bacon.
January 27th. Comes with heavy southwest blow and rain. Neither of us quite used to this warm weather yet. Nights not much cooler than days and we don’t sleep very soundly. Clouds broke about 10 and we put whole sail to her and dragged it down river until we were fairly overblown and sought a lee under a marsh island where we lunched. Think will wait until later before double reefing and putting her across mouth of St. Mary’s River to Fernandina for tide is running ebb until 5:30 and it may be as well to get over and take first of flood up the harbor. Am gaining daily in my respect for these tides in the open stretches. Might just as well try Quick’s Hole and in a strong breeze the sea over these shoal grounds is fierce. Were severely cautioned before leaving not to get slack in manners and behaviour, so have been especially careful. Today, however, with Florida in sight H. threw slices of bacon at me and dipped out mustard with his thumb. Guess he’ll eat on back porch awhile when he gets back.
Breeze freshened steadily all day to a 4 point drop in barometer. Double reefed her at 4 p.m. and gave her a touch of peak to help her up tideway for H. to get his anchor. Crash! bang, and away went boom crutch tearing out both deck plates. Scotty swore she hadn’t cut loose main sheet and H. had to own up. I got a range on it as it drifted out of sight and finally when we got ship to going we kept a smart lookout and not only saw it but picked it up first grab. This soft feeling wind kind of deceived me or else it did breeze on quickly. At all events I soon found myself mightily overblown and thrashing it in a fearful blobble of lumpy water. The launch hung back like a yoke of steers and Mascot was nearly out of hand. Cockpit rail to the water and the dust coming kerswish across decks at every jump and she jumping sixty to the minute. Eased the peak a bit, but this would never do at all. Tide swashed me out a mile or so and then I got her round and dropped yank in lee of a bit of marsh. I am kind of young and inexperienced, but I certainly hardly expected to have to run to cover in a land-locked bay only two miles wide, but my hands were up and both anchors down and there we are with the lights of Fernandina twinkling only two miles away. This morning it was “Florida or bust” and we busted. This blow which reached proportions of a gale of wind, came out of a clear sky like our northwest winter gales. Barometer starts up at 8 p.m. but with heavy clouds to northward and eastward we wonder a little what next?
January 28th. The gale sort of naturally blew itself out during the night, giving us an uncomfortable shaking up for an hour or two on the full of the tide at midnight. The morning came raw and cold with breeze piping on again with the dawn from the northwest. We were off under double reef by 8 and had a sporting sail down wind to Fernandina some three miles away. Were visited by owner of a nearby launch who inquired about make of our noiseless engine. He was quite surprised to find that we had none for they don’t see any good sailing craft about here and we noticed that we attracted considerable attention as we sailed by the wharves. Guess I was showing off her paces a little, too, as I had a piping breeze, two reefs and smooth water. Found on shore that yesterday’s blow reached over 50 miles an hour and don’t wonder I was a bit overblown in spots. I went to Jacksonville and back for mail in afternoon. Have caught a lumbago by this sudden change in weather and when I first start I walk like a buzzard.
January 29th. Fernandina. The day was a peach but I enjoyed it little, feeling mean, headachy and generally down. Did up letter writing all morning. Provisioned ship in p.m. and felt fairly perky by night although a sight of the map of this country would have made me cry. H. not much better. Our slump undoubtedly due to sudden change with 3 or 4 strenuous days ending with that sharp blow and cold.
January 30th. Turned out to a dandy morning, feeling much better all round. Good breakfast helped still more and putting kicker astern we were soon headed southward. Came to drawbridge, but just as it was opening I took bottom and made an inglorious halt. Off again and through that draw and then on and on through marsh and creek as so many days before. Here posts with boards nailed to them are supposed to guide you on your way, but the boards are ripped off and the posts all broken down so you have to rely upon guesswork and what knowledge you have acquired to pick your way. We had luck and only scraped the keel once to Nassau Sound, where we nicked a strong tide under the shore and were able to double a point and square away into the marsh once more. The breeze came fresh easterly and putting the big rag to her, with fair tide we certainly did eat up the miles. Everything went finely. H. killed a duck on the wing with Helen Keller and the St. John’s River was only a mile away when, kerplunk, we took the mud and it was all off. Set two anchors to keep from bilging and employed crew in usual ship’s duties. We must have cleaned up better than 30 miles since morning and it was 4 p.m. and time to stop anyway. I made a crout-au-pot for supper. Good thing for scurvy. Tried to get H. to rub some back of his ears, but he wouldn’t. Obstinate boy.
January 31st. Came on and off from midnight until 3 a.m. until ship floated and I hauled out my sleepy crew to pull anchors and work boat into deep water. This done it was quick to bed for some good snooze. Up, breakfast, clean up, and away by 8:30 with launch astern. Made our mark on an oyster bar first thing, but jumped her over. Across St. John’s River where tide was running fiercely. Promptly went ashore twice, trying to make creek on opposite shore. Got off each time with luck and the spinnaker pole. Breeze came dead ahead and tide in same direction so it was slow pushing all the morning and was almost glad when I ran aground good and hard and had time for lunch. Floated and were off again. Today saw old Mississippi-type river steamer with big stern wheels thrashing white water. Stern-to they looked like big, cottontail rabbits. The marsh more attractive today. More color, prettier and longer grasses, and glimpses into the lonely cypress swamps. Still the whole thing is pretty flat and unprofitable. Should stop, spend a month to study and explore. H. has a notion he will cut quite a dash at Ormond Beach, and I have advanced him 25 cents for the purpose, so it is ever on, on, on. Grounded twice more in afternoon, but come off as I came on. If you lay flat on your stomach and waited for a spring tide you might be able to drown about here. Towards night the clouds banked up ugly in west and a sharp little squall swept the river as I dropped hook for the night. By 8 o’clock skies had cleared, but it doesn’t seem as if the wind blew hard enough to sweep the clouds very far away.
February 1st. Comes early, say about 1 a.m. when tide turned and with smartish northeaster, we ran plunk onto an oyster bar. Might as well run into the Old Cock of Hen and Chickens. Turned out to find nothing. Black as indigo. Had to get compass to find out whether it was Florida or Chelsea. Messed around and hauled into channel. Turned in with thoughts of steamers, tows, and log booms all on top of me at once. Up and away under whole sail to freshening northeaster. Took bottom almost immediately but crowded off and smothered down stream. Breeze pricked right on and we had our hands full slacking peak, jibing, hoisting again and trying to keep in enough water to wash dishes. Jumped her good and plenty once more but we were boring at it so hard that we just split that mud flat wide open and went on. We boomed into St. Augustine at 10:30 cutting a few fancy steps along the water front and making a North River jibe to our anchor. Took things easy and didn’t go ashore until after lunch. Going ashore at a resort of this kind after leaving the swamps and marshes seems somehow like going into a 10-cent store. Everything looked pretty cheap and nasty. We wandered about for a few hours. Saw old Fort Marion and the Ponce-de-Leon Hotel. The courtyard of the hotel is truly beautiful. The street crowds look a good deal like those at Cottage City and we were glad to get on board and have supper by ourselves. Saw by the paper that another 3 master was dismasted within 20 miles of us in the blow we took the day before reaching Fernandina. Too much of the wreck business going on at my door. At Southport the 4 master went on Frying Pan. Off Georgetown when we layed to in the southwester, the 3 master McFarland was dismasted and we saw the hulk at Charleston. This last dismasted derelict we saw as we crossed St. John’s River, into which a revenue cutter had towed her. Must mind my P’s and Q’s or will be getting my come-gee-come myself. Here we are getting cold, raw weather for most part with fierce gales sweeping the coast every few days and all letters tell me of mildest weather in the north. Trees budding, flowers blooming. It all seems kind of topsy-turvy.
February 2 to 4. Just fooling around St. Augustine and waiting for Chinamen to wash up our wash.