J49 ) 



THE MERCHANT OF SAVANNAH. 



I LEFT the little port of St Augustine, in East Florida, on the 5th of 

 March 1832, in the packet schooner, the Agnes, bound for Charleston. 

 The weather was fair, and the wind favourable ; but on the afternoon of 

 the second day, heavy clouds darkened the heavens, and our sails hung 

 flapping against the masts. Nature, with an angry aspect, seemed to be 

 breathing for a moment, before collecting her energies, to inflict some 

 signal punishment on guilty man. Our captain was an old and expe- 

 rienced seaman. I alternately watched his eye and the distant cloud ; 

 both were black, firm, and determined. Satisfied as to our safety, the 

 vessel being perfectly sound, and the crew composed of young active men, 

 I determined to remain on deck, and witness the scene that was about to 

 present itself. The rest of the passengers had withdrawn when the cloud 

 approached the vessel. The captain went up to the helmsman, and in 

 a twinkling the sails were furled excepting one, which was so closely 

 reefed, that it no longer resembled its former self. In another minute, 

 down came the blast upon us, sweeping the spray over the vessel, and 

 driving her along at a furious rate. It increased ; all on board was silent ; 

 but onward, unscathed, sped the Agnes, driving through the snow-topped 

 waves. I cannot tell you at what rate we were carried by the gale, but 

 at the end of a few hours, the blue sky again appeared, and the anchor 

 was dropped in the mouth of the Savannah River. 



Landing there, I presented my credentials to an officer of the Engineer 

 Corps, who was engaged in building a fort. He received me with great 

 politeness, invited me to spend the night at his quarters, and promised to 

 have his barge ready at dawn to convey my party to Savannah. We, 

 however, accepted only the proffered favour of the boat, and having pur- 

 chased some " shads," returned to the Agnes, where we slept. 



The morning was beautiful, and we felt cheerful and buoyant as we 

 ascended the stream in the barge. Thousands of Canvass-backed Ducks 

 swam gracefully in pairs over the broad waters ; from the adjoining rice- 

 fields rose myriads of Grakles, Red-wings, and Ortolans, as we approached 

 the shores, while now and then the great Heron opened its broad blue 

 wings, and with a hoarse scream rose slowly into the air. Presently we 



