FLORIDA AND THE WEST INDIES 177 



Fortunately the Gulf was smooth, and the small 

 but comfortable boat ran past the southern extremity 

 of Florida and to its island goal within thirty-six 

 hours, which included several spent at Key West 

 and a subsequent slowing down of the engines, as 

 there is no clearing in Havana harbour until after 

 daybreak. 



The stewards were without exception Spanish, 

 and it was not until early next morning, when I 

 ordered shaving water and got ginger-ale, that I 

 realised that my Spanish was not that of Cervantes. 

 About the hour of my disillusion we were, so a 

 deck-hand informed me, steaming past the entrance 

 to Boca Grande. Over the intervening waters 

 went my thoughts to the staunch little company 

 even then setting forth, for almost the last time 

 this season, to "make them jump." Sadly I sat 

 in my deck-cabin, idly turning over half a dozen 

 tarpon scales and trying to picture the doings over 

 there to the northward. The low coast gave no 

 sign, yet I seemed to see them all. That was the 

 end. 



At Key West we lay for two or three hours 

 that afternoon, and here, as already narrated, I saw 

 my second American drunkard in a month, for this 

 was the eighteenth of May, that night at Sherry's 

 the eighteenth of April. What a long month it 

 seemed ! Surely the tradition that occupation 

 makes the time fly is another of those exploded 

 superstitions that contented a less sophisticated 

 generation. To whom is time so fleeting as to him 

 who does nothing to mark off each day from its 

 neighbours ? 



Havana calls herself the "Key of the New 



