CHAPTER IV 



THE AMBER JACKS 



DOWN along the Florida coast, beginning with 

 the splendid beach of Fernandina, the sea 

 rolls in with tireless energy and laves the 

 sands with the warm waters of the Gulf Stream, the 

 vast volume passing through the narrow channel and 

 widening out in the North Atlantic. There is hardly 

 a rock or stone to be found along shore, and the high- 

 est point, in all probability, from New York to Cape 

 Florida, is a diminutive hill near the beach, which 

 I have often climbed at Pilottown on the St. John's. 

 The beaches vary much in general appearance to 

 the close observer. In one place they are wide, the 

 sea retreats at the ebb tide a remarkable distance, and 

 the stroller along the sands can wade out a long way 

 in shallow water, and ships that are wrecked at high 

 tide are high and dry at the ebb. Again the beach 

 is abrupt and precipitous. The area of breakers is 

 narrow and soon reaches deep water. On the north 

 side of the St. John's the channel comes suddenly in 

 shore, and on the south the sand dunes are ever 

 changing, like the island of Anacapa. In calms they 



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