"Well," said he, "be aboard by five o'clock this afternoon, and I will put you to work cleaning brasses."
We sailed at the set time, and in the afternoon of the second day out, while polishing brass on the railing of the upper deck, a man approached me and introduced himself as Captain Hastings. After a short conversation, he told me that he was in need of a young man on his farm, which was in Florida, and he concluded by asking if I would take a position with him. I asked him what kind of work I would have to do, what salary he would pay and where his farm was located. He replied that he would want me to carry the mail on horseback Mondays, Wednesdays and Saturdays from the railroad station to his farm, a distance of thirty miles. He further added, that his farm was one hundred and fifty miles below Jacksonville, on Haw Creek, a branch of the St. John's River, and that he would furnish a horse and give me twenty dollars a month. I jumped at the chance.
While talking with this gentleman the second officer came along and instructed me to go below and assist in washing dishes. I was glad to do this, for it was very windy on deck and I had already contracted a cold. The waiters on board the ship were negroes, one of whom I shall remember always for the little disagreeable encounter that took place between us. Southern born, I had been taught to make a negro respect me, and even in my menial position I could not suffer myself to be bulldozed. Every time he came in the dish-closet to empty his tray in the sink he would make some insulting remark, sneer and brush rudely against me.
I realized my position. Knowing that the odds were against me, I held my temper to the very last moment. I told him to mind his own business or else there would be trouble. At this remark, he slapped me in the face and said, "Don't talk to me, you poor white trash."
I did not attempt revenge at that moment, although the blood in my veins was running hot with anger, but waited for a suitable opportunity, and it was not long in coming. A few moments later, as he was walking through a curtained door, carrying a tray heavily laden with dishes, I turned and caught him squarely on the cheek with a big coffee cup, which caused him to drop dishes and all as he fell to the floor bleeding. This blow rendered him unconscious, and that part of the ship was put in disorder.
I thought the other negroes would mob me before I could make my escape, but, jumping through an open window, I gained the deck and ascended to the officers' quarters, where I presented myself to the captain, asking for protection and telling him what had occurred. He listened kindly, and taking pity on me, a boy of fourteen, he promised me protection until we arrived in Jacksonville.
This affair was the talk of the ship until we arrived in port, and just as we were anchoring I was told by the second officer that the negro intended having me arrested by the city officials. Becoming aware of this, I informed Captain Hastings, and he volunteered to see me safely ashore, and also to place me on board the "City of Jacksonville," a small steamer which was to carry us to Crescent City, a distance of one hundred and twenty-five miles from Jacksonville, and fifteen miles from his home.
We left Jacksonville in the morning and arrived at Crescent City about six o'clock the same evening, where we spent the night. That day, as we were steaming up the St. John's River, I became hungry between meals, as boys generally do, so I went to the chef and traded a little imitation diamond ring for a couple of ham sandwiches.
I had not written home since my departure, consequently, that night at Crescent City I indulged in a second commercial adventure. I traded a gold watch chain for a two cent stamp, paper, and envelope and informed my people of my whereabouts and of my future intentions.