222 



FOREST AND STREAM. 



[Oct. 11, 1888. 



THROUGH OKEECHOBEE TO THE GULF. 



HELLO ! What's the matter? Harry arid I stuck our 

 heads out of the cabin window, and to our dismay 

 the conductor informed us that he had orders to side- 

 track our car as the yellow fever was raging in Tampa, 

 and they could not run our car in. Great smoke! We 

 were speechless for a moment. 



Here we were at Kissiininee, Florida, our steam launch 

 on top of a flat car, and freight already paid to Tampa, 

 our destination. We had bought her at Norfolk, Va., 

 and it had taken about our last dollar to fit her up, load 

 her and pay freight to Tampa. And now what were we 

 to do? We had bought the steamer, thinking to run 

 from Tampa down the southwest coast along the islands 

 and reefs of the Gulf, with sportsmen who come down 

 there iu winter to bask in the land of pereninal sunshine, 

 shoot 'gators, fish, and pick up shells. We had finally 

 hoped to pick up good solid dollars in that way, as weil 

 as to enjoy the sport of that famous coast in hunting and 

 fishing. The man we had bought the steamer of said 

 she was as good as new. So she was, after we had paid 

 for her and put in a new steel boiler, new parts of the 

 engine, new pumps, new wheel, new paint — new every- 

 thing. Did you ever buy an old wagon and fix it up? 

 Well, it cannot begin to compare with fixing up an old 

 steamer. We just "went broke" on her, found ourselves 

 with a white elephant as it were. 



Here we were, only 100 miles in a direct line from our 

 destination; and we couldn't go on, on account of the 

 yellow fever. What could we do? There was only one 

 tiling to do, unload and go through the great unknown 

 swamps and lakes down to the coast, then up the gulf to 

 Tampa, about 600 miles by water. 



The Dot weighed sixteen tons, and it was just about as 

 easy to move a brick block as it was to get that steamer 

 off the cars to the lake, 600ft. away. We counted our 

 remaining cash: and after allowing for 751bs. of flour, 

 301bs. of cornmeal, a piece of salt pork, canned tomatoes, 

 corn, beef, and last but not least, twenty-five boxes of 

 matches, and a supply of wood, we had 'just ninety-six 

 cents left to get the steamer off the cars and run 500 miles. 

 Nothing for it but to take off our clothes, put on old duds 

 and go for it. The mercury was about 90 J in the shade 

 and about 300° in the sun. The natives, always very 

 kind, were especially good to us. We stated our case 

 and they promptly pitched in; and in four days we had 

 jacked up the steamer, got her down on the ground and 

 to the lake; and by working three days in water from 

 6in. to 4ft. deep we floated her, and started never a seam. 

 We were happy, as you can imagine. At length, with 

 plenty of food aboard and ammunition for our guns, we 

 were ready to start; and we knew we could not starve, 

 for south Florida abounds in game of all kinds, fish and 

 birds without end. 



One bright October morning Harry had steam up by 

 daylight, and after a hasty cup of coffee, some corn bread 

 and fried trout (they call bass trout down here), we were 

 off long before the people were up. We gave a long blast 

 of the whistle; and away we went, steering a south 

 course, to an unknown waste of swamps of far south 

 Florida. 



Harry was engineer and cook; I was pilot and deck 

 hand. We bitterly regretted afterward that we had not 

 another companion with us, for on such a long cruise two 

 get so worn out and lonesome. Neither of us had ever 

 had any experience as pilot or engineer, and never had 

 seen the great desert of swamps through which we were 

 going; but we had been in many a tight place before and 

 did not hesitate now. We had it to do. All I had to 

 steer by was my compass and an ordinary pocket map of 

 the State. The natives had given each his opinion, and 

 each one differed except on one point, that all the waters 

 north of Lake Okeechobee ran into it. So we felt con- 

 fident that by keeping with the current we should event- 

 ually get into the great sea, where our journey would 

 commence in earnest. We were bound to find the proper 

 outlet into the Caloosahatchee or we could never reach 

 the coast; and again, we knew there were no lighthouses, 

 buoys, nor anything after reaching Okeechobee to show 

 us our course, no human habitation to be seen after leav- 

 ing Fort Bassinger, seventy-five miles north of Okeecho- 

 bee, until Fort Thompson was reached on Lake Flirt, 

 nearly 300 miles by water from Fort Bassinger. Never- 

 theless, we were happy with visions of beautiful pJumed 

 birds, of wild turkeys in countless droves, bands of deer, 

 strings of fish a mile long; and then the lord of that great 

 waste of waters, the alligator. We were in high spirits 

 that morning as we dashed the waters of Lake Tahopeka- 

 liga aside, and our little steamer drove her sharp bows 

 through them at the rate of eight miles an hour. With 

 my double breechloader loaded with No. 6 for birds, and 

 the trusty Marlin .40 60 for snap shots at 'gators and deer, 

 to say we were in high spirits would be putting it mildly. 



On we sped, until in the afternoon we passed out of 

 Lake Tahopekaliga into a swamp, and ran hard aground 

 on a mud bank. That was nothing; all we had to do 

 was to push off. Yes, but we could not; so overboard We 

 went and pushed, and said disrespectful things to each 

 other. Harry wanted to know if I couldn't see where I 

 was going, etc.; and of course as soon as the engine 

 stopped, the steam ran up and commenced to hiss, and I 

 asked the engineer if he was trying to blow us up. We 

 finally got off and found our channel, and just at dark 

 entered Cypress Lake. We dropped our mud-hook and 

 thus ended our first day of the cruise. A hot cup of 

 coffee, with corn bread and a piece of fat pork, finished 

 supper; and the bed felt good that night. 



Daylight found us off again. Passing through Cypress 

 Lake we ran into a dead river (these dead rivers look 

 like any other river, the same size and a swift current: 

 but after running a few miles it disappears in the dense 

 weeds. There is nothing to do then but turn round and 

 steam back against a swift current and try it over again. 

 We were all the next day going from Lake Cypress to 

 Lake Kissimmee, a distance of only about fifteen miles 

 in a straight line, but we got into at least ten dead rivers. 

 Besides our propeller would ball up, by picking up the 

 wild sawgrass and wild lettuce and lily pads that 

 grow in such profusion in those waters. Just at sunset 

 we saw Lake Kissimmee and were jubilant, when all of 

 a sudden we ran hard aground with such force as to pitch 

 me clean overboard through the cabin door into a swift 

 current. I climbed on board with my jaw banged out of 



shape, and heard Harry muttering in some foreign tongue, 

 and it was just one o'clock in the morning when we got 

 out of that scrape. In these waters there is always a 

 mass of drift lettuce and water plants; and the moment 

 you get stuck on a mud bank or bar, the lettuce and drift 

 grass begin to catch and hang on to the boat, and in less 

 time than it takes us to tell it, there are tons and rods of 

 the infernal stuff piled up against you, making it almost 

 impossible to push the steamer through it against the 

 current. Of course in such a place the propeller would 

 ball up and be useless in ten minutes. By one o'clock 

 that night we managed to get adrift and in the right 

 course into Lake Kissimmee. 



The next day we ran clear through that lake into Kis- 

 simmee River and anchored that night. We thought 

 we had now overcome the worst of our blind crooked 

 rivers, but in reality we had not yet begun. Kissimmee 

 River runs in every direction, but south, and dead rivers 

 — it makes me shiver at this distant day. We would run 

 out of a short river into an open place with sixteen out- 

 lets, all alike, all of the same size and the same depth. 

 We did not know which to take. Each one would run 

 east for a mile, north ten miles, west forty miles, south- 

 east twenty miles, etc. Sometimes we would pass a large 

 cypress on our left and five hours afterward we would 

 pass the same tree on our right. The further south we 

 went timber began to get scarcer, the country to open, 

 the swamp to widen, until the woods were seen only in 

 the distance. Ahead of us, to the south, there was noth- 

 ing but desolation, nothing but a swamp of immense 

 and short, slender bushes, with 3ft. of water under them 

 and 6ft. of mud. One could not push a small boat 

 through, nor walk. All we could do was to try each 

 opening, each river, each lake, and try to keep the one 

 going nearest southeast toward the great sea, 



Finally, after a week's fearful toil, we arrived at Fort 

 Bassinger, some 175 miles by water from our starting 

 point, and the last human habitation we would see until 

 we had passed Okeechobee and reached Fort Thompson, 

 nearly 175 miles by water. Fort Bassinger consists of one 

 log cabin. No signs of a fort are visible. We rested one 

 day there, and dropped down stream a few miles to wood 

 up. We were one whole day cutting and lugging wood 

 on our backs. The timber was a half mile from the 

 river, and a stick of fat pine would grow to weigh about 

 a ton when you have to back it a half mile. But all 

 things have an end, and at last we were wooded up and 

 ready to start. 



From that point there were not so many dead rivers, 

 our spirits began to rise, and we made a run that day of 

 sixty miles; and just at sundown our little steamer began 

 to rise and fall as a boat will out in an open sea. Harry 

 and I knew we could not be far from some large body of 

 water; and sure enough, as we rounded a bend an open 

 sea was before. Far as the eye could see to the south, 

 east and west there was nothing but a waste of water; 

 and from landmarks described to us we knew that this 

 was the Great Okeechobee, the inland sea of Florida, 

 which is sixty miles wide, any way you go. We ran our 

 steamer right up to the trunk of a large cypress: as we 

 only drew 3ft. of water we could easily do this. We 

 made fast to the roots, and the moss hanging down over 

 us to the water completely hid us from view. Some of 

 the moss was more than 20ft. long and hung in bunches 

 larger than a small man's body. An Indian could have 

 paddled by within 20ft. of us and not have seen the. 

 steamer. We ate a hearty supper of fresh fish, which it 

 only took a moment to catch, and were soon in the land 

 of dreamB. Arthur Lovejoy. 



[TO BE CONCLUDED.] 



THE CRUISE OF THE PELICANS, 



" T ET'S all go down to Pelican to-morrow." says the 

 JU Doctor, suddenly, as he rolls himself out of the 

 hammock, and assumes the perpendicular. For a 

 moment none of us speak. Who cares to leave this 

 dolcefar niente, in which our souls are lapped, to try the 

 terrors of an unknown journey? Better far to remain a 

 dweller in this castle of indolence than to venture out- 

 side its gates, and meet the buffets of a cruel world. 

 Then— 



"R-r-ats!" growls Dixie from behind the last Pioneer 

 Press. 



"Pelican? Pelican? Where and "what is Pelican?" mur- 

 mured Heart's Delight, as she snuggles clown more 

 luxuriously in her own particular corner of her own 

 particular hammock. 



"Hurrah for Pel-li-canl Hurray for Pel-li-can!" chants 

 the irrepressible Broncho, as she dribbles a handful of 

 sand down upon the bald pate of the Governor, over 

 whose camp chair she is leaning. 



"Oh! yes! Let's go! Let's go!" calls little Blossom 

 from the dock, where she is vainly endavoring to catch 

 some of the minnows which are flashing their white 

 sides through the shallow water. 



"That will be just lovely!" sighs Lulu, as she sits with 

 folded hands and a far-away look in her soft blue eyes. 



"Pelican be— hanged!" quoth the Governor, as he 

 mildly but firmly twists the Broncho's ear in revenge for 

 the sand with which she has sprinkled him. 



"What fools these mortals be!" barks Tip, with his nose 

 between his forepaws, and his large brown eyes gleaming 

 from out his fore-top of cream-white hair. 



Only Chaperona is silent, and all eyes are turned to her 

 expectantly, and all ears open to hear her decision. 

 Slowly she speaks, and we bend forward to catch the 

 voice of the oracle. "I think it would be nice, and we'll 

 start early in the morning," she says at last, gravely. 



"That's a good girl!" says the Doctor. 



"Humph!" grunts Dixie, under his breath, while Heart's 

 Delight strokes her cheek caressingly, the Broncho catches 

 her in a wild and tumultuous hug. Lulu smiles serenely, 

 Blossom executes a wild dance of joy, Tip gives a "woof" 

 of disgust, and marches off to resume his work of dig- 

 ging out an inoffensive chipmunk, and the Governor, 

 with a resigned "That settles it!" seeks consolation in his 

 pipe. For has not the oracle spoken, and shall mortal 

 man presume to gainsay her wordsi 1 Chaperona is young — 

 Chaperon is fair— but she rules this outfit with "a rod of 

 iron. The Governor may growl, Lulu may plaintively 



Erotest, or the Broncho rave and storm, but a glance from 

 er hazel eye brings them to subjection, and they are 

 again her abject slaves. She is not only our guardian, 

 guide and friend, but the Hausmntter as well, and it may 



be that her control of the commissariat accounts more or 

 less for the slavish deference which we all show her. 



"What is Pelican, Doctor?" queries Heart's Delight. 



"It's a lake, about fifteen miles from here." 



"How do you get there?" 



"By boat, across thi3 lake, through the millponds, down 

 the river, and through Little Pelican." 

 "How long will it take to go down?" 

 "Three or four hours." 



"Facilis deeensm Pelicani, sed revoeare gradum" 

 growls the Governor from behind his pipe. 



"What does that mean?" demanded the Broncho, as she 

 yanks the Doctor backward out of his hammock and 

 smashes Dixie's hat down over his eyes. 



"It means pulling the 'spinal backbone' out of you, 

 coming up that blamed river. Current twenty miles an 

 horn, channel full of boulders, river as crooked as — as — 

 as Chaperona's strategy when she wants me to go to 

 church." 



"Never mind my strategy, what's the matter with 

 Pelican?" 



"Just told you. It's the worst beast of a river in seven 

 countries." 



"Oh! well, if we can't row back we can walk." 



"Hanged if I don't believe you would. As Barney Mc- 

 Phee says, 'It's little I'd be af ther putting past the likes of 

 ye.' But in that case, what would you do with the boats?" 



"Oh! we'd get themhome somehow," with that sublime 

 scorn of details which marks the genuine woman. 



"Suppose the Mugwump should come while we're 

 gone?" puts in the Broncho. 



"Put a note on the door telling him to follow us." 



"Think he'll do it?" 



"Well, if he follows the Broncho a hundred miles down 

 here he'll probably be willing to follow her fifteen miles 

 further." 



"Humph!" grunted Dixie, "if you think he's following 

 the Broncho you're mistaken. I'm the attraction. He'd 

 go a hundred miles any day for the chance of a political 

 discussion with me. Learns something, you know." 



"Conceit is as good as a physic," drily comments the 

 Doctor. 



Meanwhile the seven devils which were cast out of 

 Mary Magdalene seem to have entered into and taken 

 possession of the Broncho, and she makes life a burden 

 to all around her. Lulu, who has a horror of all creeping 

 things, is sent shrieking into the cabin by a big fat worm 

 dangled in her face. Heart's Delight, whose special 

 detestation is cats, is roused from a peaceful dream of 

 Eden by finding a squirming bundle of black fur neatly 

 tucked away in the bosom of her dress. Dixie is made 

 the residuary legatee of a small but particularly lively 

 frog, deftly insinuated between his shirt collar and the 

 back of his neck, and even the Governor, of whom she 

 usually stands a trifle in awe, finds his pipe stolen and his 

 easy chair full of pins. But at last Nemesis overtakes her. 



The Doctor's wrath has been slowly smouldering all the 

 afternoon, and at last, when he has to retire to the tent 

 to extract a piece of ice from between his shoulder blades, 

 it breaks out into flames. He threatens, if she does not 

 quit, to duck her in the lake. This threat she laughs to 

 scorn, and defies him to carry it out. Venturing too 

 near, he seizes her, and despite her struggles picks her 

 up, carries her grimly to the edge of the dock and drops 

 her full length into two feet of water. Thence she 

 emerges like a dripping Naiad, and seeks "the seclusion 

 which the cabin grants," where she lies perdu tdl her wet 

 garments have dried, when she joins us again, repentant 

 and subdued. 



Next morning, bright and early, the flotilla leaves the 

 dock, bound for Lake Pelican. The Doctor and Heart's 

 Delight, called from their looks of cherubic innocence 

 and their general roly-poly appearance, the Babes in the 

 Wood, lead the way into the Alta, with little Blossom for 

 ballast; Dixie, Chaperona and Lulu, watched over by 

 Tip, follow in The Tub, and the Governor and the Bron- 

 cho bring up the rear in the Wa-Wa. Every available 

 inch of space is packed with blankets, hammocks, eat- 

 ables, tent paraphernalia, and other conducers to com- 

 fort, for our party are firm believers in "smoothing it" 

 rather than "roughing it." So we push off, and soon the 

 red cabins and white tents of Camp Comfort fade from 

 sight, as the stiff ash breeze sweeps us over the level 

 bosom of the lake and into the millponds, among the 

 intricacies of the floating islands. Extricating ourselves 

 from these, with much loss of time and patience, another 

 obstacle presents itself. Tradition, in the person of the 

 Doctor, supplemented by the Governor, avers that 

 somewhere in these same millponds is to be found 

 the sacred lotus of the Hindoos, and wide and far 

 is the search made therefor, till each boat is filled 

 with a mass of fragrant bloom, but whether the 

 lotus or the white waterlily, none can definitely tell. 

 Finally the dam is reached, and the boats and impedi- 

 menta portaged around. The Alta and Wa-Wa present 

 no difficulty, but The Tub, huge and unwieldy, calls for 

 more exertion. The ladies, though, bless their souls, lend 

 willing hands, and, by the united efforts of all, the task 

 is finally accomplished. Then down the rushing Pelican 

 flowing swift and strong betw r een high walls of wild rice 

 and bullrushes, slipping under an overhanging bluff 

 where graceful birches, hanging over, touch the grasses 

 on the further shore, rolling smoothly between level 

 meadow banks where the green turf comes down to the 

 water's edge on either side, now flashing swift and 

 straight as a Chippewa arrow down long chutes where 

 huge boulders lift their mossy heads, their sharp edges 

 grinning like shark's teeth as we flash past, and now turn- 

 ing a sharp corner, followed by another, and another, and 

 another, till the steersman's brain grows dizzy, and, like 

 a wise politician, he knows no north, no soutb, no east, 

 no west. The Governor and the Doctor, old hands at 

 this business, lay down their oars, and using the paddle, 

 take their double-ended boats down canoe-fashion, deftly 

 cutting sharp corners and avoiding threatening rocks, 

 but The Tub, huge and cumbersome, swings hither and 

 thither in the rushing current, bumps her nose into the 

 bank at every sudden bend, placidly slides up on a shelv- 

 ing rock and balances there, like a contented mud turtle, 

 or, despite all efforts to guide her, floats crabwke at her 

 own sweet will. But Chaperona and Lulu are both good 

 at the oars, and coming to the relief of Dixie, they man- 

 age to keep The Tub well up with the procession. Five 

 miles of this and Little Pelican is reached, where Chaper- 

 ona calls a halt for lunch. And now, as we are all 

 strangers in a strange land, comes the question, "Where 

 is the outlet into Big Pelican?" 



