22 
THE FIRST VOYAGE OF THE CURLEW. 
When we of the gray-headed fraternity of out-of-door 
sports were youTJg and studiously ' doing sums," or study- 
ing the old battered spelling book in the country school- 
house, some bare-footed urchin would hold up his hand, 
patiently at first, then with a frown and a wiggling arm 
toward the teacher, and in answer to the look of recog- 
nition would say, "Please may I go out?" 
Well, brethren, I still do so. Most of the time I have 
that wistful longing to go out to escape from the busy 
desk and the constant stress of business, from the 
cramped confines of "house and yard," and to get where 
the bounds are more extended, where the limits reach 
from the north to the south, from the east to the west, 
from the center to the circumference. 
The summer was long and very heated. The creeping 
and flying pests of the Sea Islands had worked their sweet 
wills upon our cuticles. Gossamer-clad and panting we 
had worried over the weary time and when fall came at 
last our souls rose within us and we hastened to make 
preparations to "go out," 
Just here I must introduce you to the Curlew, That 
renowned craft is a strong sailing launch of the naval 
type, but so improved by a comfortable house built on 
her that she is spoken of as a "daisy." She sails well, 
and being fully prepared, was launched and ready for the 
channels, sounds, creeks, straits, bays, rivers and other 
water courses and places leading into, among and through 
the "Hunting Islands." Are ducks there? They are, 
and more are coming. Do plover, curlew and ypllow- 
lega abound? They do, being on their southern flight. 
Does the festive deer gambol in the woodp? Oh, yes, 
plenty of him. Fish? Plenty. On the islands Bob 
White is in season and everything is ripe. 
There are those who like to adorn themselves in ancient 
hunting clothes with an "Injun" smell about them, avoid 
bathing or washing for weeks, will not sleep in a tent or 
house for fear of taking cold, rather enjoy lying down in 
a mud puddle to sleep and rising up filthy, unkempt and 
of unsavory smell, as who should say, "See what a hunter 
I am. I rough it like an aborigine, always ready." These 
claim that it is unlucky to wash, that filth and the clean 
woods can assimilate. They are frauds, every one. The 
great "out-of-doors" is clean, sweet-smelling and balmy. 
Its influence ought to make a dirty man clean. It ought 
to receive the dweller from the town and send him back 
perfumed and fragrant, cobwebs all swept away from 
mind and heart, imagination invigorated and soul pure. 
I have no use for an unclean sportsman. 
As we grow old we are more solicitous for creature com- 
forts, and so we made the Curlew very cozy. She takes 
four folding spring cots for beds. She has atable that will 
seat eight, and folds away in the carlins overhead when 
not in use. There is a carpet on the floor. A good 
lamp gives light at night, comfortable camp chairs 
afford easy seats for tired hunters, while the roomy cock- 
pit outside is the common dressing room and lounging 
place by day. In the forecastle two men for cook and 
crew find comfortable places. This is the craft that fur- 
nishes transportation and quarters, and some account of 
her wanderings and the luck of the travelers will, I am 
sure, interest your readers, and therefore I will try to give 
you here a description of 
The First Voyagre of the Curlew. 
The personnel was congenial, and made up of true 
sportsmen. I doubt if an invitation to any other amuse- 
ment would have lured any of them ashore again after 
he had once embarked. The party was composed of the 
Skipper, the Surgeon, the Soldier and the Clerk, E liot 
for cook and Jerry for crew. The route selected was 
more of the nature of a reconnoissance than for active 
shooting, as the air still retnained as balmy as summer, 
without the great heat, and it bad not become yet cold 
enough to drive the ducks down to us from northern lati- 
tudes. The Skipper is no stranger to your pages, Well 
seasoned with much salt water, he still tips the scale at 
over 2801b8. ; but he can shoot a little if he gets in the 
right place, and the game does not wobble too much. 
The Soldier and the Surgeon are thin, wiry men, good for 
anything, and warranted to tramp from daylight to dusk 
for game. The Clerk is a fine young man whom the 
others are trying to bting up in the right path, and as he 
is willing and agreeable there are strong hopes for him. 
Elliot is the best cook who ever slept in a hammock, and 
Jerry is a multitudinous crew with many solid virtues. 
Elliot and Jerry are colored people. 
Provisioned for a week, the gallant Curlew made sail 
from Paris Island on a beautiful spring-like day in this 
last November, All the ladies of the station turned out 
to see us off. They cheered and gave us many sweet 
wishes, and their smiles were very wide. Now a man 
may go very far afield when sent off with such a fare- 
well, so we set the mainsail, hoisted up the jib, and were 
off in fine style. We hove to off Baaufort for a package 
of "Rough on Eats," for there were signs of a mouse on 
board, and the medicine was for him, and not as a sure 
cure for human despair. The brethren of the rod and 
gun at Beaufort shouted good wishes from the wharves, 
and with a fair wind and tide we were off on our ven- 
turesome voyage. On that day we had a crooked wind. 
Whichever way we turned the wind was fair. Through 
the devious way of the brickyards, into the broad Coo- 
saw, down the same and into Ball River, with blue skies 
and smooth water, the fine breeze favored us. As we 
swung into Bull River a large flock of plover, curlew and 
other shore birds tempted us, and in a few minutes we 
had bagged fifty-four nice birds for the pan, and felt well 
satisfied for a beginning, Then we filled away, and in half 
an hour were snugly at anchor at Buzzird Island, 'at the 
Quarantine Station, where the kind hospitality of the 
venerable Dr. Sams made us feel very much at home. 
We lay there that night and slept the sweet sleep of the 
righteous sportsman, with none to molest us or make us 
afraid. In the early morning the Surgeon and the Sol- 
dier paddled up the creek and brought back a brace of 
ducks, which seemed to give them a good appetite for 
breakfast. After that repast we got under way and ran 
up Bull River to the Pacific Phosphate Works, where we 
were most generously received by Captain Roberts, the 
superintendent, who then and there laid plans for a deer 
and duck hunt in the near future whereat great sport is 
FOREST AND STREAM. 
promised us, and of which the readers of FOSEST and 
Stream shall have an account, if tho present writer can 
get there. 
We left those hospitable shores and worked down the 
Bull River and anchored in the Coosaw about dark on 
the second day of the voyage, having picked uo a few 
more shore birds at the mouth of Bull River, Hoisting 
our stay light and saying our prayers, we turned in again 
in our comfortable quarters and passed the second night 
like unto the first, "and even more so," 
We were up early the next morning, and worked up to 
the mouth of Parrott Creek to pass through into Morgan 
River, Just as we were fairly in the creek a heavy and 
threatening squall struck us, Bringing on a norther. The 
little Curlew scudded under her jib in fine style, running 
down Morgan River at great speed, and so we ran into 
Savage Creek, on St. Helena Island, and anchored for 
breakfast. After that meal we were not satisfied to re- 
main cooped up there all day, so the sails were close 
reefed and we beat out of the creek in fine style, and 
squared away down the river for Egg Bank, a great re- 
sort for shore birds. Presently the bank appeared above 
the sea horizon, but when we arrived there it was blow- 
ing too hard to land, although great flocks of birds were 
seen. We therefore ran to the southward for the mouth 
of Harbor River, leaving Egg Bank to the seaward of us, 
and hoping to visit it on some future voyage and get the 
birds that congregate there. The fresh, fair wind drove 
us rapidly into Harbor River, behind Hunting Island 
Light, and on to a mud bank that we did not know was 
there. Such a little thing as that did not dismay us and 
we soon hauled "our house and home" into deep water, 
and went on our way rejoicing. Our joy was short, 
howpver, for the tide was high, and among the marshes 
we entered a false lead, but after awhile found the true 
channel, and at sunset anchored in Fripp's Inlet, at the 
west end of Hunting Island, Supper tasted good that 
night, and the sleep could not be complained of. The 
appetites of the Soldier and the Surgeon were monument- 
al, and the Clerk and the Skipper were fairly contented 
when they lighted their nocturnal pipes. 
The morning of the fourth day dawned fair and lovely. 
The Surgeon slipped rff for certain ponds, and returned 
later with several fine ducks. The Soldier and the Clerk 
picked up a few shore birds, while the Skipper "kept 
ship" and Jerry paddled across the inlet and returned 
with half a bushel of fine oysters. We had a noble break- 
fast that morning, and all the appetites seemed to be 
renewed, as is usual on such occasions. After breakfast 
we weighed anchor and worked up to Story River, and on 
our way passed a small island, as the higher wooded 
ranges on the marshes are called, and it seemed to prom- 
ise well for ducks; while opposite it were long flats, on 
which curlew and sandpipers seemed abundant. We 
marked this spot, promising ourselves that we would re- 
turn at some future time and see what could be found. 
We did so later, which will make "another story," 
Wo ran out to Trenchard's Inlet, hoping to pass out to 
Bay Point and shoot birds there; but the tide was against 
ua and the wind was light, so we steered for Station Creek 
on the homeward route. We made into Port Royal 
Sound just at sunset, and had just wind enough to stem 
the tide and reach the Naval Station at 9 o'clock. Four 
more delightful days it would be hard to match. We did 
not get much game, but we spied out the land and laid 
plans for more trips of the same kind which we hope to 
take in the future. The cold weather has not yet been 
severe enough to drive the ducks south to us, but we live 
in hopes and are all ready. At another time I hope to 
give you an account of other voyagf s, which will take us 
out of the dull routine of every-day life and give us glori- 
ous outings with great comfort. The first taste has been 
so good we still "want to go out." 
C. H. Rockwell, U. S. N. 
Naval Statiok, Fort Royal, S. C. 
FLORIDA OYSTERS. 
Tarpon Springs, Fla., Dec, 28.— The Captain and I 
have just returned from a short cruise. We had for 
some lime talked of making a little run to some oyster 
beds that he knew of, up north of the 'Cootie, but one 
thing and another balked our plans. Last week we re- 
solved to go anyway, and though the morning did not 
promise the usual bright Florida sunshine, we put our 
mattresses, stores and camp equipment aboard the King- 
fisher, filled the water kegs and at 1 P, M. made sail. 
With a light wind from the north'ard, we finally beat 
out of the river, and shaped our course to clear Deer 
Island. For a wonder, the wind was not quite dead 
ahead, being about north by west, and with a couple of 
"hitches" we weather Cedar Point about dusk, the trusty 
little yawl having walked along at a four-mile gait. Soon 
after we make out the mouth of the 'Cootie, but the light 
is so dim that we can see little more than the tree line on 
shore. The skipper is undecided whether to run into the 
'Cootie for the night or go on, but finally decides that we 
can at least make "4ft, hole," so we continue north, 
Having made out and rounded Grass Island in the 
gathering gloom, we stand in shore, for a palmetto 
"lump" on the mainland, and the Captain, having got his 
bearings, gives us the helm, and hanging on by the main- 
mast, directs the steering up the channel, in and out 
among the "Coon" oyster bars, back and forth for half 
an hour, till we drop anchor at the head of navigation 
"up Salt Creek," 
^Supper is the next thing in order, and we soon had the 
oil stoves going in the cabin. Having attended to that 
important duty and washed the dishes, we spread the 
awning over the cockpit, unroll the mattresses in the 
cabin— one on each side of the centerboard case — and 
make snug for the night. Then into the dinghy and pad- 
dle ashore to do a little exploring; and an ideal camp 
ground it is, high and dry, and as fine a grove of palmet- 
toes as can be found. 
With plenty of dry red cedar, we soon have a roaring 
fire of this fragrant wood, and seated before it the Cap- 
tain smokes and recalls other tr ps to this favorite camp 
ground. 
Here the lamented Nes^muk camped at one time for 
several weeks. 
The fire burns low and we paddle out to the Kingfisher 
and are soon in the land of dreams. Next morning finds 
the wind still from the north, and none too warm, but 
oysters are what we came for and must have, so donning 
some old clothes, with a small "elevator" as a precaution- 
ary measure against cold, we paddle ashore, and carry- 
[Jan. 9, 1897. 
ing the light canvas canoe across the narrow strip of 
land, launch her in Oyster . Bayou. Now for business. 
Armed with «n oyster knife and gunny sack apiece, and 
the canoe between us, we wade along knee deep in the 
water, picking up the bunches of oysters, knocking off 
the small ones, and quickly filling our sacks with the 
large size. 
Then back to the camp ground, where a roaring fire of 
cedar is made and we fall to opening the delicious bi- 
valves, 
A stew is soon in process of construction, and never 
did Blue Points taste half so good as these Floridaa, 
frpsh from the water, cooked with evaporated cream 
and Elgin butter, and washed down with coffee that only 
Captain Tarpon knows how to make, and with an appe- 
tite born of the salt air, leaves a breakfast long to be re- 
membered. 
Well, we ate oysters and oysters — on the half shell, 
fried, stewed, roasted and scalloped — till all bands voted 
enough. Then for something else. The tide is out, 
showing long rows of oyster bars in all directions for a 
mile, among which winds the tortuous channel, and how 
we ever got in here in the dark without once touching 
bottom no one but the Captain can tell. Bird and ani- 
mal life in this wild and almost uninhabited country is of 
constant interest to a Northern tenderfoot. In the early 
morning the air is filled with thousands upon thousands 
of cormorants going out to the gulf to their daily fishing. 
In the evening they return inland, and disgorging part of 
their fish, feed it to their young partially digested. In 
the top of a pine near by is a lordly "bird of freedom" 
just finishing his breakfast of fish, which he has com- 
pelled a poor fish hawk to give up. This bald headed 
robber does not fiah for himself, but watches the fish 
hawks, and when one makes a catch quickly relieves 
him of his hard-earned breakfast. 
At low tide the flats are alive with beach birds, plover, 
yellowlegs. jacksnipe and many others, Not SOyds. 
from the Kingfisher ia a flock of "jacks" feeding where a 
man might kill twenty-five at a shot. Of course, we left 
the gun at home. We ramble around the cedar and pal- 
metto groves, with here and there broad reaches of sa- 
vanna, dotted with occasional clumps of palmetto that 
are islands at low tide. A half wild razor-back with six 
young pigs dispute our way, and as she seems decidedly 
on the offensive Tarpon discreetly suggests that we take 
the canoe and paddle up the creek to Salt Spring, So, 
stretched at full length in the bow of the canoe, Tarpon 
on his knees in the stern, we watch with delight this 
veteran canoeist wield the single blade, as without a 
sound or splash we glide up this beautiful stream, the 
water of which is so clear and transparent that one 
seems to be floating in air. The spring boils out in great 
volume from unknown depth, with a strong odor of sul- 
phur, and is very salt. 
Returning to the cruiser, the weather seems anything 
but encouraging, and with rain in the air, and a 
"norther" threatening, we reluctantly decide to cut short 
our stay at Oyster Bayou, And with the wind aft and 
plenty of it we slip outside and are soon making good 
time for the Anclote, and pick up our moorings in the 
"spring" about dark, thus finishing my first oystering 
trip with the genial Tarpon, who, with his sailorly ways, 
his knowledge of woodcraft, and his inexhaustible fund 
of story and reminiscence, makes a companion without 
whom such a trip as ours could not be possible, 
Cameramblee. 
THE FLASK IN THE FIELD. 
Editor Forest and Stream: 
As I sit in my "den" to-night, having just finished a 
piece of tiresome work that I couldn't find the time to 
reach at the office to-day, my wife asleep in her chair 
with her pet dog in her Isp, I take up, as usual, the 
Forest and Stream; for, "chained" as I am, no one 
enjoys its columns more than I. For years I have been 
intending to become a subscriber, and since that inten- 
tion has taken form I often "cuss" myself for the good 
things I have miaaed by not sooner becoming one of its 
family. Judging others by myself, and believing that he 
who knows it grows to love it, I often think that if we 
would induce our friends who enjoy sport, but who are 
not subscribers, to subscribe, we would be doing only our 
duty to the paper as well as a kindness to our friends. 
I have been reading "Holland," by Shadow, in No. 
24, and I find that on the occasion referred to Doth he 
and his companion carried a flask, and what I want to 
know is, is it only parmissible to carry a flask when one 
goes woodcock hunting ? I have read all the accounts of 
the hiinting and fishing trips that have appeared in For- 
est AND Stream for nearly two years, and, unless my 
memory serves me false, this is the first trip in which a 
flask figured. 
I had been told in my early days that without a flask 
fish would not bite; that to be a successful fisherman one 
had to sample the aforesaid flask and spit in the water, 
and that when you went hunting it was necessary to 
have something along to provide against snake bites; it 
mattered not what time of the year or the then where- 
abouts of the aforesaid snake. Was it Guy Carleton, 
when, initiating a novice, and telling him of the neces- 
sary "tackle" that would be required for a successful fish- 
ing trip, said something like this: "A jug of whisky; a 
few hooks; a bottle of whisky; a line; some more whisky, 
etc."? 
Minute and very much in detail are many of the ac- 
counts of enjoyable trips that appear in your columns, but 
allow one who always carries a flask, knows its use and 
despises its abuse, to thank Shadow for omitting none of 
the necessary "tackle" for a successful woodcock hunt. 
And talking about snake bites, some years ago there 
was in my office Dr, Trumbo, of Warren ootmty, Vt,, an 
ardent trout fisherman and a "good fellow," as most true 
sportsmen are, and he was telling me of some of his trips 
in the Blue Ridge Mountains after the gamy trout, I 
asked him if he was not afraid of rattlers, and he said: 
"No, indeed, we always carry an antidote. And, speak- 
ing of antidotes, we had with us on our last trip a fellow 
who didn't know much about fishing, but was a firm be- 
liever in the saying that *an ounce of preventive is worth 
a pound of cure,' and fearing that he might be bitten by 
a rattlesnake he soon commenced to carry this theory 
into practice, and before long was past going, We left 
him asleep on the banks of the stream, while the rest of 
us went further up, hoping he would sober up before we 
got back; but when we did return we found him still 
