451 
small inlet or creek T a few miles north of Windmill Point, 
an ideal place for a canoeist to put in. 
The run down the beach from the Great Wicomico River 
on a clear day is delightful. The green verdure of North- 
umberland county, Ya., on the west, and on the east the 
Chesapeake, a vast expanse of blue water, shimmering in 
the sunlight and stretching away north and south far be- 
yond the reach of the human eye, flecked with many sail 
and now and then a passing steamer, is never forgotten, 
and must be greatly appreciated by all who love nature 
in its grand and sublime form. 
Tom trolled a while on the way down, but with no suc- 
cess, owing probably to the great speed of the canoe. I 
knew there would be good fishing where we intended to 
stop, and preferred to try my luck at another time. 
About the middle of the afternoon we stood in the mouth 
of the creek and found ourselves in a delightful little cove, 
bordered with miniature beaches of white sand, a spring of 
sparkling water, a small clump of shade trees, and a well- 
worn path that evidently led to a farmhouse not far dis- 
tant. 
We soon had our hammocks stretched beneath the trees, 
and Tom began to forage for soft-shell crabs, bait for the 
morrow's fishing end food for our supper. We found 
them very plentiful here, great big fellows that had come 
in on the flood, shedding their hard shells, and lay among 
the weeds and grasses, where the ebb tide had left them. 
I was congratulating myself on reaching this lovely 
spot when a voice, clear and musical, came floating across 
the water with startling distinctness — ■ 
'•Oh, dat little Pickaninny, 
Down in ole Varginny," 
And looking up I saw the ragged back of a darky sculling 
an old punt down the creek, making directly for the land- 
ing where we were. Had I not yelled to him to "look out" 
he would have fouled my canoe. He stared at us in 
genuine awe or evidently took us for a couple of Malay 
pirates. 
"Well, my good man, what's the matter?'' I asked. 
"You s'prised me, boss." 
"Don't you look where you are going?" 
"Sart'inly, boss, but can't scull a cunner wif your back 
to de paddle." 
I smiled, for I saw the logic of this remark, and said: 
"Whose place is this?" 
"Marse William Sorrento's, sar. " 
"Any good fishing hereabouts?" 
"Plenty, boss," his face brightening. 
"Any oysters?" 
"De crik am a natrul bed." 
"Ah." 
"What's your name?" T asked. 
"Pompey White, sar," taking off his hat, bowing low r 
and showing a row of ivories. 
Tom and I both laughed. He was black as a crow. 
In the evening a fine, soldierly-looking gentleman and 
two charming ladies made their appearance. The gentle- 
man was Col. William Sorrento and the ladies his daugh- 
ters. They admired my canoe and outfit immensely, and 
were greatly interested in the cruise of the Scud. The 
colonel bade me welcome and extended every hospitality. 
Indeed, I shall always remember with pleasure and carry 
with me ever the memories of my visit there, and the de- 
lights of their sunny Southern home. Col. Sorrento was, 
like many other Yirginia gentlemen, rich. before the war, 
which had stranded him, but the people were recovering 
slowly from its effects, and his broad acres then were 
marvels of wavy grain and growing tobacco. 
Just here let me say on my cruise in Yirginia waters I 
met with this same affability -among the poor as well as 
the rich, the people delighting in rendering me every as- 
sistance in making my stay among them pleasant and 
agreeable. 
Next morning we were out on Sheepshead Eock early, 
castiDg our lines in four fathoms of water. We had 
good sport, catching plenty of trout and taylor; the latter 
I find only in the Chesapeake, and very gamy, taking the 
bait savagely and requiring the greatest skill in landing 
tbem. Our greatest catch, however, was the sheepshead, 
which we were after. We succeeded in getting a number 
of these fine large fish and would have captured more, 
but the wind coming up southeast began making an ugly 
sea, which drove us in. Sheepshead usually weigh from 
6 to lOlhs., and I had rather catch them than tarpon. 
They are the gamiest fish that swims, and the way the 
line sings in the water, the bending rod and humming 
reel, is true music to the fisherman's soul. 
We passed several days at Camp Sorrento — idyllic days 
they were — fishing in the morning, resting in our ham- 
mocks at midday, and in the evening at twilight, when 
the air was still, we brought out our banjos, and to the 
accompaniment of chirping crickets and the cry of the 
distant whippoorwill we whiled away the passing hours 
in music, the songs of camp life: 
"With a flowing sheet and a swelling sail, 
We are swept along by a driving gale; 
'Neath the plunging bow is a roll of white, 
And the waves are all flecked with danciDg light; 
While gleaming fixes like diamonds burn 
In the seething, lengthening wake astern. 
The petrels their feet in the whitecaps lave. 
The flying fish flutter from wave to wave, 
While the porpoise it rolls thro' the gleaming foam, 
And the black-finn'd sharks predacious roam. 
Oh, wondrous sights meet the willing eyes 
Of these who sail 'neath the sun-bright skies." 
One morning, the wind having veered around to north- 
west, we stood out for Windmill Point, crossed the mouth 
of the Rappahannock, passe'd Stinguay, calling out the 
lightkeeper with our horn and getting in return a salute 
from his fog-bell, and bore down the beach for the Piy- 
ankatank, making Jackson's Creek, just inside its mouth, 
in good season. We found quite a thrifty settlement 
here — neat, whitewashed cottages, surrounded with gar- 
dens and beds of fragrant flowers, a large general store, a 
schoolhouse and a church (which the people called a 
meeting-house), inhabited mostly by Oystermen. 
The Piyankatank River is in the great oyster belt of 
Virginia, shipping annually one hundred thousand 
bushels of very fine oysters, standing about equal in its 
output to the Rappahannock River, Mobjack Bay and the 
York River. A large percentage of these oysters also come 
North in fishing'} smacks, are used for plants in Long 
Island Sound, and are erstwhile converted into blue 
points and little^necks, which are so highly prized in our 
