Perhaps our guide did not know about Black Creek; and I pulled out of my pocket the "Suggestions" he had written out for the trip; but I could not find the name in it. If there was anything in Florida that Cornwood was not familiar with, I desired to know what it was. It would be a real enjoyment to me to find that he was not competent to pilot the little steam-yacht up Black Creek. I was instructed to invite all our party to the excursion, if I could bring a pilot for the occasion.
I returned to the Sylvania, and I thought I would invite the party before I said anything to the pilot. I gave them what information I had obtained in regard to Black Creek and Middleburg, and they were ready to accept the invitation. I found Cornwood on the forecastle, smoking his cigar, and opened the matter by informing him that the party were going up Black Creek the next day.
"But this boat draws too much water to go up to Middleburg," said the pilot, promptly. "She can't go half-way up there."
"But we are to go in that little steam-yacht," I added.
"That's another thing; I dare say she would go up if there was nothing but a little fog under her," laughed Cornwood.
"But we wish you to pilot her up the creek," I continued.
"I will do it with the greatest pleasure," he answered.
I was taken aback by this ready reply, for I had felt confident that I had found something the Floridian could not do.
"You did not mention Black Creek in the paper you wrote," I suggested.
"Neither did I mention Lake Griffin, because it would be impossible to get up there in a boat drawing eight feet of water," replied Cornwood.