We went two blocks up the street, and here, under the shelter of a drug store, I told him I wanted to get as far down the coast as Jacksonville, Fla.
He said he thought he could help me do so.
"The boats no longer run from here to Georgetown, S. C.," he said, "but there's a boat from Wilmington to Southport, N. C., daily for seventy-five cents, and you can easily walk across the sands from Southport to Georgetown in a day and a half. You'll not be lonesome," he added, "for there are houses every few miles, and I'll write you a note to a friend of mine in Georgetown, who'll take you to Charleston, S. C., and another note to the engineer who runs between Charleston and Jacksonville."
This was great! I was to get nearly a thousand miles on my journey without incurring the risk of beating a train. The mere contemplation of beating a train seemed to stir up all the animosity in my nature towards all train officials.
What! I, John R. Peele, the boy who had always been so careful at home about washing his face and keeping his clothes brushed, attempt to hide on a train, and beat his fare?
No, I was to preserve my dignity and travel like a gentleman on a large steamboat to Jacksonville, and then other means would surely present themselves, as probably another boat ran from Jacksonville to Galveston, Texas.
Splendid idea! Why the trip was going to prove easy—a regular "cinch," and I could afford to laugh at the train people now, and that for a good long time, too, but alas! my joy was short-lived, for I was soon to learn the truth of the old adage: "The best laid plans ofttimes go astray."
We entered the drug store, and Marine, after much effort, composed the notes, which he wrote down in my memorandum book.
The following is a reproduction of one of them, verbatim, taken from the same little book, which I yet own: