July 28, 1894.] 
FOREST AND STREAM. 
69 
no more successful. Soon I heard the quiet rain. It had 
just commenced. I did not wake Brand. I knew he 
would find the day long enough without my calling him 
very early, so I turned over and slept sprain, and the next 
time I awoke it was broad daylight and the rain was 
dripping from the trees all around us. 
Brand awoke at nearly the same time. As he looked 
from under our cover be remarked, "I guess I will have 
to read about birds to-day, and we will play crihbaee." 
But a breakfast was to be prepared now, and I must not 
leave the shelter of our shanty. Brand knew this and 
said, "Pap, I guess I will have to make the coffee this 
morning, and I will have a chance to show my skill on 
cooking trout. How arlad I am that we have them." 
But not so fast. We have not got them yet. 
When Brand went to look for his fish they were not 
there. We had left them on a tin plate in a fissure of a 
large rock close to the shanty near the shore. Such a 
thing as birds or animals disturbing them had never 
occurred to us. But they were gone, and all Brand could 
find was the tracks of some animal in the sand near the 
rock, and these almost obliterated by the rain that had 
fallen. 
I was sorry for Brand even more than I was for myself. 
But there was no help ^or it, and he took his disappoint- 
ment well. Said he, "Father, you have one fresh egg 
left. You can eat that and I will fry some pork." This 
was our breakfast. It was cooked outside in the rain, and 
we ate it under cover. We both did well, however. I 
had the two last slices of bread toasted, while Brand con- 
tented himself with plenty of ship biscuit soaked in 
coffee. 
But now how should we spend the day. The rain con- 
tinued. It seemed to increase from the time it began, 
and by 9 o'clock there was a steady downpour. I was 
afraid more than once that it would put out our fire. It 
would have done so had we not kept plenty of wood on. 
It was a "tedious" day, so an old friend of mine used 
to say. I read to my boy some and he read to me. Then 
we would stop and talk for a while and plan, and tell 
each other what we meant to do when the rain ceased. 
We had great interest in watching a thrush that seemed 
to have his home under a little beech tree, and a be- 
draggled Canada warbler that appeared to feel very badly 
because, with all his pluming, be could not improve his 
appearance. 
But the most of our attention was given to the "drum- 
mer." We caught sight of hit-i several times as he came 
out a few yards away at one side of the shanty. He was 
very wary about showing himself and we had to be care- 
ful if we expected to see him at all. His peeping place 
was from under a little spruce. Here he would take a 
glance at our shanty and then retire. Poor fellow, he 
looked as though he might have fallen into the lake. His 
tail and ruffles were in a most dilapidated state. Drum- 
ming was out of the question, even had he wanted to. 
I wrote a letter home and told my wife of my improved 
health; and our home and our plans. I do not think I 
ever wrote her as long a letter since the days of our "en- 
gagement." Maybe I never had time to, but I am afraid 
the rain had something to do with the length of this 
one. 
There was no let up in the storm at noon. It was the 
same old downpour and drip, drip, drip. A rainy day in 
the country is bad enough, but a rainy day in camp is in- 
describable. 
The dinner was cooked in the rain, or I should say, 
the tea was made— for the dinner consisted of simply tea 
— canned tongue, ship-biscuit and ginger snaps for Brand. 
Of course, we did not expect our guide; he was not to 
come if it rained, and without question it had done so. 
It was after 2 o'clock before there seemed any cessation 
in the storm. From 6 o'clock in the morning until 2 in 
the afternoon is a long time to sit inside a shanty and 
look out at the dripping trees. But all things have an 
end. Gradually the rain held up; then there was a light 
place in the clouds, then a ripple on the lake coming from 
the west, then we heard the loons calling and a bird of 
some kind called over from the other shore. As the sky 
lightened more birds began to call. Then, at last, as the 
sun came out in his full splendor, the woods seemed alive 
again with bird life. Meanwhile Brand had bailed out 
the boat and wiped the seats dry, and I was invited to go 
for a row and, take my rod along. Brand would take his 
too. "We would go up to the old place and see if we 
could not get some trout for supper." 
How lovely it was after the rain. Everything was so 
fresh and the air so clear that we could see cliffs and 
rocks on the mountain we had never seen before. Then 
Brand "felt in the humor of rowing," He said "He 
wanted to stretch his arms," and it was not more than 
twenty minutes before he added, "Now, pap, get ready 
for a cast." 
I was on time and the first effort brought me a half- 
pounder. Then a second one, a little larger, followed it, 
and so on until I had six. Then Brand must try and I 
sat down at the oars. I had strength to keep the boat 
still. He caught three, one of them larger than any of 
. mine, while the two others were smaller. But here our 
luok ceased, though we tried for a good while. Indeed, 
the shades of night were settling upon the lake before 
we left the alders. 
_ • However, we were not long in going home, nor was 
it very late before we were regaling ourselves upon trout, 
ship's bread, canned peaches and tea. 
There was a dampness in the air this evening that did 
not allow of our sitting in the usual place by the lake. I 
was improving and I meant to run no risks. So we kept 
inside our shelter and played cribbage for an hour or 
more. S. 
[to be concluded next week.] 
Exportation of American Elk. 
Commenting on our note in issue of June 30 respecting 
the capture of living elk, a correspondent writes from 
England: 
"I have been offered a herd of live elk — young ones re- 
cently captured in the States. I am not at liberty to men- 
tion names. I do not require any live elk, but seeing in 
your paper lately that elk are being exterminated I 
thought it important to let you know that live elk are 
being sent out of the country, which will help to exter- 
minate them. Ought this not to be looked after?" 
"No, Maude, dear, the taxidermist is not . a collector of 
taxes, although he does work a, skin game."— PIMailelphin- 
Record. 
DOWN THE FLORIDA COAST. 
Having heard that a private sailing yacht, owned by a 
gentleman of Clear Water Harbor, could be hired, we 
made up a party for cruising down the Gulf of Mexico. 
The boat is a two-masted schooner, carrying mainsail, 
foresail, topstaysail and jib. When her canvas is all 
spread she is a picture. She is 70ft. long, and has a fine 
cabin with ample accommodations for ten persons, nicely 
lighted and ventilated. In fact, she is a remarkably well- 
appointed boat. The terms were so much per day, we to 
provision her and board the crew, which consisted of cap- 
tain, mate and cook. Then began the work of prepara- 
tion. If you could have seen the quantity of bread, bis- 
cuits, boiled hams, chicken, cakes, cookies, doughnuts, 
pork and beans, jellies, jams and preserves that were put 
on board, to say nothing of the raw material stowed 
away, one might conclude that we were anticipating sail- 
ing around the world. 
It was a beautiful morning in April. I shall long 
remember that morning; the sky was as blue as a robin's 
egg, and the air as soft and haltny as a June day and full 
of the fragrance of the sea and pines. Truly it was 
charming. We put up sail and started down the bay to 
go out the pass into the gulf proper, five miles away. All 
along are the piers and pavilions of the families who have 
winter homes on the bluff, and there were congregated 
men, women and children, all waving handkerchiefs and 
wishing us God-speed. Several boats acted as escort for 
some distance. As long as we could sight home, we could 
see the waving of handkerchiefs. Soon we were through 
the pass into the sea, and our introduction was a dead calm. 
We rocked and rocked, and tossed from side to side, sails 
flapping, not a breath of wind. We noticed that the crew 
watched us somewhat curiously. After a time the cap- 
tain said, "Well, she's coming now." I asked, "What?" 
He replied, "The wind; don't you see it?" When I told 
him I did not, he called my attention to a dark line across 
the water miles away , saying, "She'll be here right quick." 
And sure enough "she" was. The sails filled, and as it 
was a fair wind we were soon sailing in fine style. The 
captain remarked, "Well, I reckon you ladies are pretty 
good sailors." Upon asking why, we were told that the 
Jadies usually "fed the fishes" when encountering a dead 
swell. We were assured we need have no further fear of 
seasickness. 
Going on board so late in. the morning, the cook had 
prepared dinner without any instructions, so when we 
went down we were a little amused at the bill of fare, 
which consisted of boiled pork, cabbage, potatoes, onions, 
beats, tomatoes, corn-bread, coffee, etc. We were too 
hungry to be fastidious; we added a dessert, and felt 
that we had dined well. After that we helped the cook 
plan the meals, and they were good, every one of them, 
each and every one can verify this statement, because 
every one was ready to test them. There were nine in 
the party. 
We sailed sixty miles that day, and just as the sun 
was sinking into the sea we started through the pass 
leading into Sarasota Bay, where we were to anchor for 
the night. At the supper table we heard a peculiar grat- 
ing sound, then a thump, a thud, and a bump. The 
doctor said, "We've struck." We all rushed on deck; 
and sure enough we had gone aground. Of course, the 
first question was: "How long will we have to stay here, 
captain?" "Can't tell," he answered; "hope to get off on 
the next high tide." "And when will that be?" "To- 
morrow, I reckon." And that was all we could find 
out. 
Then we fell to speculating. "One said, "It was high 
tide when we came in here. I don't see how we are going 
to get off on the next one; it won't be high enough." 
"What then? Captain said we would have to wait until 
the new moon. How long would that be? The cal- 
endar was consulted, and we found it would be in six 
days. Well, we discussed the matter pro and con; and 
all were agreed it was a good plan to stay. And we re- 
tired happy and content, as we knew we were safely 
anchored anyhow. 
The next morning our men went fishing and the ladies 
amused themselves in various ways, the crew meanwhile 
working to get the boat in a position to be able to take 
advantage of the tide. Much to our relief, at noon the 
following day we were once more afloat. That night 
we anchored off Captiva Island, in Charlotte Harbor, 
where the captain said we would find some fine shells. 
We rowed over, landed and started up the beach. As 
we were walking one of our party called our attention 
to a peculiar footprint in the sand, which he said was 
that of an Indian moccasin. A little further on he 
showed us the track of a wildcat. I wandered on search- 
ing for shells and looking up suddenly I could not see a 
single person in sight. I cannot describe the sensation 
that came over me for a moment. I do not think it was 
fear, but the fact that I was more than a thousand miles 
from home, on an uninhabited island, except for an occa- 
sional Indian camp, the boundless sea, the deepening 
twilight shadows, no SQtind save that of the surf rolling 
at my feet; altogether it was an experience I would not 
have asked to have of long duration. Somehow I felt so 
helpless— such an aloneness. I was not afraid of Indians 
or wildcats, but it was a moment of oppressive solemnity. 
However, the party soon came around the point, and as 
we knew how soon the darkness shuts down in Florida 
we hastened back to the Ardell. 
We were always up betimes in the morning, and I ven- 
ture to say we saw the sun rise more times while we were 
on that cruise than we will in many a year. The crew 
were always on deck at "sun up," and the walking, wash- 
ing decks and rattling of ropes and . sails made sleep im- 
possible. We sailed all the next day, »nd at night 
anchored near Senibel Island Lighthouse. Here our 
anglers found fine Spanish mackerel fishing, catching 
many 24in. long. We went over to the lighthouse to 
call. The houses for the keeper and assistant are built 
upon piers 12ft. high to protect them from the high sea, 
which sometimes washes over the entire island. They 
said they were "mighty glad to see folks; putty lonesome 
living there." They told me their nearest neighbor was 
eight miles away, and the3 r were obliged to go twenty- 
five miles for a physician and provisions, and all by a 
small boat. 
We had heard that Marco on the Gulf was an important 
point, so set sail for there. We could not make it the 
firBt day, so for the first time we anchored outside. We 
started early the next morning, and when the captain 
sai Marco, we t asked where, All we could see was a pier 
with a small building attached to it, and in the distance a 
house. We inquired if that was all of Marco. "Yes," 
was the answer, "except the cocoanut grove." We took 
to our rowboats at once, and soon had the pleasure of 
standing under a "sure enough" cocoanut tree. This was 
a wonderful sight to us. The tre^s stand in rows 25ft. 
apart and are from 30 to 40ft. high, and as they belong to 
the palm family, the foliage is of that character. The 
branches are not unlike our ferns, only many of them are 
15ft. long, and they grow in rows around the trunk of the 
tree. They are exceedingly graceful as they wave to and 
fro in midair. The tops of the trees meet overhead and 
form a charming archway. It was certainly a delightful 
treat. We saw the nuts in all stages of growth, from the 
blossom to those full grown. We visited the house, and 
here we found as cultivated a lady as one will often meet, 
and a well furnished and well kept home. I noticed 
among other things a piano. We also found a beautiful 
and daintily dressed baby boy ten days old. Our call was 
very pleasant, and we all wished we could express .our- 
selves in as good English and as choice language as did 
this mother with her eight little children, 'way down on 
this almost forsaken Florida coast. We found here some 
fine venison, which was very acceptable. 
After leaving Marco we sailed down among the Ten 
Thousand Islands. When we reached there we exclaimed 
fairy land at last. I cannot describe this. It is among 
the things you feel, and the language that would express 
it does not seem to have been put into words. The entire 
bay, as far as the eye can reach, is dotted with beautiful 
green islands of all sizes and shapes. We would sail 
along toward what seemed to be mainland; and as we 
neared the shore, without a moment's warning we would 
come upon another opening — an avenue we called it, 
fringed with trees on each side, their branches interlaced 
and interwoven, forming a perfect bower. One could 
row for hours, in and out, from one avenue to another, 
the water as smooth as glass and as blue as the sky above, 
we exhausted all the adjectives at command, and still the 
half was not said. 
These islands are formed by mangrove trees, and the 
formation is something wonderful. A mangrove seed is 
like a c-gar in shape and color; it floats upon the water 
and sends down a root; and this grows and floats about 
until it finds something to fasten to — a bit of coral reef, 
anything that will afford anchorage. Then it sends up a 
shoot, and as it grows it sends down roots from its 
branches. You will see these roots hanging down from 
the branches of the trees many feet long, looking like our 
wild grapevine. These swing around until they are of 
sufficient length to reach the water, and in turn fasten 
themselves to something and send up another tree. This 
forms a complete network, and soon the sand begins to 
accumulate, and all sorts of floating debris, such as sea- 
weed, lodges there; barnacles fasten on the roots in the 
water — and, behold! an island is born. The bushes grow 
very rapidly and soon become large trees, whose foliage 
is very dense, and whose falling leaves add to the accumu- 
lation. One has only to watch the processes of nature in 
the formation of those islands, to understand more easily 
how much of Florida is made land. 
After feasting our eyes on this beautiful picture, we set 
sail for home. We had had what the captain called fair 
winds going down; but now our course was northwest, 
and the wind was blowing strongly from the same di- 
recton. We started at noon from Boca-Grande Pass to 
make Stump Pass, twenty miles. The wind had been 
blowing from the northwest all the previous night and 
was still blowing, so we found a very heavy sea outside 
and were compelled to beat up against the wind. We 
would go out five miles, tack in; go eight miles and only 
gain three or four. 
The waves kept getting higher and higher, and the 
wind blew harder and harder; but we thought we would 
soon be inside. Finally, as night was fast coming on, I 
said, "Captain, are we not almost to Stump Pass?" "I 
can't go in Stump Pass," was the reply, "it is a narrow 
channel, and this wind would send us on the breaker bars 
sure." "Well," I asked, "what are you going to do?" 
"The only thing I can do— sail. It is so rough I cannot 
anchor outside, and I cannot get in." In the meantime 
darkness was fast coming on, and we were ploughing and 
plunging about, the water dashing over the deck, The 
prospect of keeping up that rail fence business all night in 
such a sea, and not getting anywhere was not altogether 
cheering, and to add to the might-be of the occasion, we 
saw a black cloud lying low in the west, out from which 
the lightning flashed continuously. The wind howled, 
the ropes rattled, the w T aves pounded up against the sides 
of the boat, with force enough (it seemed to us) to break 
her in pieces. The outlook was that we had a wild night 
before us; and we began wondering if there was anyway 
out. Finally one suggested going back to Boca Grande 
Pass. A council was held. The captain said he would 
turn about if we so elected; and as there was nothing to 
gain except time, and that was of no account to us, we 
instructed him to set sail for Boca Grande. 
It was worth the whole trip to have experienced that 
sail. It was grand beyond description. We were going 
with the wind now, and we seemed to fly through the 
water, dashing it in all directions. The waves were high 
and long, and as far as the eye could reach, each one was 
crested with phosphorescent light. The whole sea was 
brilliantly illuminated. 
Soon we espied a light and exclaimed, "Boca Grande 
Lighthouse!" We felt we had found a friend, although 
it was fifteen miles away. As we neared the pass I 
noticed that the captain looked anxious, and gave his 
commands in a quick, sharp manner, very unlike his 
usual way. It took us some time to get inside; and how 
we did plunge and roll going through the pass. After we 
were safely anchored, the captain told us the only real 
danger was in going through the pass, but in such a night 
and such a sea it was hard to distinguish between the 
breakers on the bar and the waves, and he added, "I 
found it business to get inside." We had been from 12 
o'clock until 7 :30 in the evening running twenty miles, 
and we had come back in two hours and ten minutes. 
Pretty fast sailing, we thought. 
We sailed out of the pass the next morning after our 
little adventure, and as the fishing was fine in Lemon Bay, 
to which Stump Pass is the entrance, we concluded to 
spend the afternoon and night there. After dinner our 
fishermen went fishing and returned at nightfall laden 
with oysters, clams, fish-snipe, etc.; so we voted that 
quite a profitable afternoon. 
The following day the captain told us that not far awa 
