The pilot was not to be caught. I sent word to Mr. Garbrook that our party would be happy to join his family in the excursion up Black Creek, and that I would furnish a pilot. I noticed considerable activity on board of the Gazelle, for that was the name of the steam-yacht, after I sent the message.
I had heard nothing of Griffin Leeds during the day. Though I had no doubt he was in Green Cove Springs, he made no attempt to come on board. I concluded that he intended to wait for a more favorable opportunity to recover possession of his wife; but I was determined that no such chance should be afforded to him.
At nine in the morning we went on board of the Gazelle, and she weighed anchor immediately. Cornwood took possession of the pilot-house, declaring that he had never been confined in a canary-bird's cage before. But he was good-natured about it, and when the boy had got up the anchor, Cornwood rang the bell to start the engine. Everything worked as regularly as though the little yacht had been a steamer of a thousand tons. The pilot ran the boat down the river about a mile below Magnolia, and then stood into an inlet, at the head of which we found the stream. It was a considerable river, but Cornwood seemed to be quite at home in it. It was a crooked stream, but the pilot ran from one side to the other, talking to me all the time with the utmost indifference.
I observed him for a couple of hours, until I was entirely satisfied that he knew what he was about, and then joined the party astern. It was seldom that a steamer disturbed the waters of Black Creek, never in these days, except when a party of curious excursionists desired to explore the lonely region. The Gazelle made about eight knots an hour, and at eleven o'clock we were fast to a dilapidated pier at the ruined town of Middleburg. It lay about half-way between the St. Johns and the Atlantic, Gulf and West India Company's Railroad, extending from Fernandina to Cedar Keys, on the Gulf of Mexico, intended as part of a quick route to Havana. The building of this railroad, by diverting from it the trade and transportation of a considerable region of country, had utterly ruined Middleburg, and it was as lone and deserted as Pompeii under the ashes of Vesuvius. Hardly a family was to be found in its abandoned houses.
A glance at the ruins was enough to satisfy the party, especially as Cornwood warned us not to enter the houses, or we should be covered with fleas. These pests are not uncommon in Florida. Green Cove Springs formerly had some, which were supposed to be scattered through the place by the pigs that ran at large. The evil was corrected by keeping them out of the village. The fleas were a vastly greater terror to the ladies than the alligators, of which there were a great many in the creek. Its quiet waters, not often disturbed by steamers, afforded them a peaceful retreat. Owen and Colonel Shepard had brought their guns with them, and had fired at some of the larger ones seen on the shore; but the saurians might have laughed at them, if they were given to expressing themselves in that manner. Cornwood smiled every time one of them fired.
We ran up the "North Prong" of the river a few miles. Under the shade of some spreading oaks we stopped for the lunch which our host had provided. It had been obtained at the hotels, and after our sail we were in condition to enjoy it. The alligators were larger and more plentiful, and while the Gazelle was at rest they were more disposed to show themselves on the sandy beach above us. Owen and the Colonel fired at them several times; but they seemed to take no notice of the shots, and the pilot laughed as usual.
"You haven't graduated as alligator sportsmen yet," said Cornwood when they had wasted a large quantity of powder and ball. "You might as well fire at an iron-clad, as at the back and sides of an alligator as large as those are."
Owen handed him his gun, which was one of the most expensive pieces, intended for deer and other large game. The pilot loaded it himself, and said he should try for the largest reptile in the group on the beach. He fired. The alligator gave a spring, and began to flounder in the sand, while his companions deserted him, taking to the water. In another moment he was dead.
"What do you aim at, Mr. Cornwood?" asked Owen, with admiration at the skill of the Floridian.
"It depends on circumstances," replied the pilot. "If the alligator is in such a position that I can take him in the eye, as that one was, and send the ball diagonally through his head, I fire at the eye. If he lies so that I can put the ball in behind his forward flipper, and have it pass forward, I take him there. Sometimes he is in such a position that you can't hit him in either of these places, and it is no more use to fire at him than it is to shoot into the water."