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Punta Gorda Chica
Charlotte Harbor
April 4, 1875
My dear Pa,
Today is our resting day and it is one of Florida’s best. The wind blows fiercely and the
air is withal balmy and pleasant with much sunshine and invigorating properties.
While sitting on the front piazza I conceived the idea of noting the few passing events in
the form of a diary and add little or much as the case may be until the first opportunity
arrives to send. This is what I promised to do for Mother but I never seemed to get at it.
You have left us and you all three will naturally like to know how we progress—
minutely. So here goes.
To begin with:
Saturday April 3, 1875
Raining most of the morning, clear all the afternoon with a jolly breeze. Everyone
prophecies that “Grand Pop” will reach Key West Sunday noon. (Let us know how near
we came to it.) In fact it blows so very hard that it is almost impossible to do much
shingling. Get on three courses only and give up for the day. Instead take down all
scaffolding and arrange for Sunday. Cover front piazza with rough edge and make a
rough edge passage through house. Curry works on siding up back piazza and reaches
the top of the door at sunset.
After tea Fred and I prepare our letters
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and cross to DeCoster’s in the white boat. Too much wind and we pull over. Curry goes.
Send letter to Mother as you directed and also arranged note—or draft—on Mother for
Curry. Mrs. DeCoster presents a glass of milk as usual and at 10 o’c we row back again.
Cool and windy as we retire at 11 o’c.
Attempt made during the day by Williams and two men to get off DeCoster’s sloop—but
without success.
Sunday April 4, 1875
Wind today fresher than ever. But no rain. Thermometer about 65°. Sit on the front
piazza most of the day and sketch one tree! Too windy to make a more extended one.
Brenda feels first rate today. She, Phip and Freddie keep me company. During afternoon
find Phip hanging by his head with his feet a foot from the ground—having fallen
through the front piazza. Another attempt made at DeCoster’s sloop. She is righted but
capsizes again and is abandoned.
Visit the upper “head” after dinner to see if there is not some “muck” handy for
transportation to make a garden with. Find some better than any yet and only two
hundred yards from my last [post?]. Shall bring in a few loads the first opportunity to try.
Monday April 5, 1875
Splendid working day. High wind and cool weather. Curry and Key come over together.
Brenda finds them at the kitchen when she goes over. Curry planes 30 floor boards in
addition to 5 planed Saturday. Fred, Baggs and I get on 12 courses
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of shingles. Brenda feels first rate again and gets nearly two hours uninterrupted rest on
the front piazza.
Find that another young banana has started. Also that four of Brenda’s orange seeds have
come up where the two roses are in the little box. These orange trees—in prospective—
are strong and healthy.
Fred and Bags rig up an alarm for the boat with copper wire and his gong bell. Works
like a charm. They also start the boat house—by sinking a big post to hitch the boat to
near the big “permeter” on the right hand side of the boat.
While shingling to day was nearly blown off the roof. Slid six feet and caught many
splinters on the passage. Shingles rained for 50 feet around.
Where are you now? Fred and Bags insist upon it that you left Key West at 2 o’c this
afternoon and will pass Charlotte Harbor on your way to Cedar Keys about daylight
tomorrow morning.
Another attempt at DeCoster’s sloop. She is gotten off the bar and passes our shanty
toward noon under double reef mainsail.
Fred and Bags carted up to Freds’ orange trees six loads of beach manure.
Sunday April 11, 1875
Work has moved quite briskly the past week at the “Shanty.” But I have not had much
time to jot it down in detail each day.
On Tuesday Bags and Fred helped on shingles and 10 more courses were added.
Yesterday the roof was covered.
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Curry managed to plane all the boards and tongue and groove them. One day he planed
35 boards. The “matching” seemed the hardest part of the work. The floor of the entire
house 85 boards is ready to be placed. Tomorrow we commence. I hope to be able to get
through with the old man this week and do the remainder of the work myself.
On Wednesday we had a strange schooner in from nowhere. Dr. Vhrieling (or some such
name) a big [bug?] hunter from the northern universities in search of curiosities and such
with one or two friends came on the schooner. She anchored at DeCosters and left the
next day.
On Thursday Bags, DeCoster, Key and Tucker went down on the keys hunting. They
came back about 9 o’c last evening. Bags brought them in from Cape Hayes, all the rest
being seasick. They shot one deer and caught oceans of fish—and bagged some small
game besides. We have therefore had some of the finest venison yet for dinner today.
On Thursday Fred shot five ducks. Today he shot an immense fox squirrel on the big
pine in the front of his house.
Both Fred and I have broken ground for orange seeds. He by the side of his kitchen and I
by the side of mine. We are
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ready four a thousand seeds a piece. My spot is well shaded and so is his. But mine
seems especially adapted for the purpose. This week I shall arrange two more and be
ready for whatever turns up either in oranges, lemons, citrus or what not.
Out of the bananas from Nassau planted by Fred and me. Fred has six five shoots and I
the same. The main plants don’t seem to start but the roots are taking hold and the little
ones came up finely.
The weather during the week has been quite good. Up to Thursday cool and pleasant
with strong northerly and easterly breezes. Since then hot and sultry with thermometer
about 84° in the middle of the day. Mosquitos are about us again. In fact so thick tonight
that I must hold over until tomorrow for more jotting.
Monday April 12, 1875
Rain is falling gently as I sit down at Fred’s table this evening to add a few notes. We
had wanted it badly and the prospect is good for much more to come.
Half the sitting room is boarded over. More would have been accomplished had not the
boards been so warped by the triangular mode of drying. By stacking them in that way
the sun seemed to have more play and some were warped nearly two inches out of the
way—sidewise.
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Today was venison day with us. Breakfast: venison stew. Dinner: roast venison and
venison soup. Supper: cold venison. And such venison! It was about the best I ever
tasted—even in Florida.
Hot today. Thermometer at 7 o’c this evening 80°.
George’s trip to the Keys would make a nice article for some northern paper. Get him to
write it up—and you top it off.
I am happy to state that I have 3 bundles of shingles left—and 10 pounds of shingle nails!
Brenda has now eight orange trees in the boxes which she planted on the arrival of the
“Wild Eagle” and which were scattered among the “posies.”
And now for bed!
By the way—Capt Joselyn is now on the other side. But he has not been here yet. Fred’s
rifle and my pistol are in waiting!
Friday Saturday April 16 17 1875
For the past three days we have had lovely weather, cold and comfortable and good
working weather. Copious rains have fallen but not enough for sweet potato hilling. The
bananas have increased to 9 on my place and look quite green.
Today the windows were put in in my house; yesterday the floor was finished. The house
will be ready next Saturday night for occupation, and then Brenda and I will be happy. I
have concluded that it will be best to keep old man Curry one week longer and then send
him adrift. During that week he can do a little partition making, finish
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up the door facings, add a little planing; and do Fred’s work.
Day before yesterday Fred and I passed the day in building a raft and bringing it over.
We brought some of the timber for Freds boat house; a few facing boards for doors and
windows for my house and 50 rough edge. We have nearly, if not quite enough now for
the fence. We were three hours crossing and had no help in making our raft. Fred was
used up and I felt better when the thing was over.
The “Bonny” came in today noon from Key West. The wind was blowing very hard at
the time and we could not board her. She stopped at DeCoster’s however and Fred and
Baggs have gone over tonight for letters.
Fred has his six posts for the boathouse “in.” It is to be located by the side of the large
palmetto on the right of the path as you go to the water.
Baggs set a hen on 11 eggs today. She keeps her seat well and may continue.
Thursday April 22, 1875
Last Saturday evening we had letters from home and from you. We were all glad to hear
of your safe arrival in Key West and the near prospect of your reaching home. We had
heard by the “Robt. E. Lee” that there was no fever in Key West and so felt relieved on
your account before your letter came.
The pigs did not come. Phillip could not find them when the Bonny left. The tobacco
also was carried up the river and we are waiting for the return of the “Bonny” to get it.
At present we are “low down” on the tobacco question.
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I am extremely obliged to you for paying my little bills in Key West. It relieves me
much. This week work has progressed nicely. On Monday Curry and I finished the
boards for the back piazza. I planed 25 of them and he tongued and grooved them. On
Tuesday he put them down, while I prepared 40 more and made a pair of steps to the
kitchen also finished my little fences and filled up the well. Yesterday I planed 22 more
boards and Curry planed 8 and “matched” 30.
Last night we had a mighty fall of rain and much thunder and lightning. It has rained
nearly all day. This prevented the laying of the piazza boards. Instead Curry made the
frame and put up the door to Freddie’s room. It took him all day and I shall do the
remainder myself.
My bananas have now reached the respectable number of 12. Fred’s two that I gave him
have increased to 5. So the dozen count 17 now.
Brenda’s orange trees are the same and growing finely. Two are 4 inches high. Fred’s
oranges show well and the rain has made them green and healthy.
Last Tuesday Anna[,] Fred and George took the white boat and went for fish proposing to
spend the day at the “old wharf.” The wind was blowing strong from S.W. and after
starting we saw them turn and make for up river. They disappeared behind “Coon Key”
and did not get back until 9 o’c that evening. Then they told us that they had been 15
miles up Pease Creek! After getting under
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way they found the wind and tide too strong and George proposed they should try and
find the “Bonny” and get our tobacco! It was a grand hunt for tobacco! But such sights as
they saw up the river! You and I can have bit a faint idea of the beauty of Florida scenery,
judging from what surrounds us here. Up the river it was a small paradise. Dense
foliage, making a perfect wall on either side of the stream hanging vines, lofty trees, high
banks, beautiful flowers, with all imaginable perfumes—filling the air with incence [sic]
and at times almost overpowering the senses; rare birds—rich in plumage and sweet of
voice, beautiful bayous, gorgeous lilies, deer etc etc. Anna was in raptures and she
vowed she never saw nor imagined anything could be so beautiful. They found palmetto
leaves 6
feet across and with stems 9 feet long; cypress and maple, and grass 10 feet high. But 15
miles of rowing on a fever river was too much to pay for the sight. This was the price to
get back home. Still they enjoyed it immensely.
Tomorrow Fred and Anna go hunting. The result I’ll chronicle when they get back.
Fred’s boat house is getting on nicely. The rafters were placed on today. When finished
I’ll sent you a sketch of it.
During the storm last night while the lightning flashed and thunder rolled the gong
sounded. I was
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out of the bed in a jiffy looking out in the darkness through the sitting room door; Fred in
his nightshirt was feeling in the dark for his rifle and George was at the upper window
waiting to see Fred drop some one on the beach. A flash of lightning revealed a clean
coast and the boat calmly resting on her side. The rain had stretched the line—or rather
tightened it—and the gong sounded—but only once. The tight string prevented the back
stroke. We all went back to bed and listened to the “loud roaring of the awful thunder”
on the Bay of—Punta Gorda Chica
No mosquitoes this week for which—“thanks.”
All well except the baby and he is not sick—only fretful and perhaps getting teeth.
Phip often wonders where “Pop Pop” is and insists—nearly every day in ringing the bell
for “Pop Pop” to come to dinner.
Last evening Brenda, Freddie Phip and the baby—and I went out for a row. We had a
fine one of three miles. The children were delighted—So were all of us.
The “Santa Maria” went out today bound for—no body knows where. She failed to stop
for letters.
Just as I am closing up Brenda calls from her bed and says “Tell Grandpa if, when he is
sending or about to send any packages to us, he will let Mother or Mi--- know they may
something to send also and I will be much obliged.” I have done it. Good night.
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Friday April 23, 1875
Rains grandly all day at intervals of an hour. The ground soaks up the drops rapidly and
the rain gives evidence of a countinuance.
We hope soon to commence on potato hilling. I replanted my hills on the bank but my
potato vines were placed in dry sand. I find that the hills act as a shed and the water runs
down in the vallies [sic] between without soaking through. I cant hope for much success
in this way, but it will serve as an experiment.
Fred and Anna postpone their hunt.
Curry worries through the day laying piazza between rain drops and I board up above the
ties on the front piazza—so that I can watch over him.
Tomorrow I’ll give him a rest.
Saturday April 24, 1875
More showers and more piazza laying. Curry finishes—he supposes he will finish a
month or two hence.
We have just taken him over to the other side. Mrs. DeCoster gave us our usual glass of
milk and we came away biliously inclined.
Fred and Anna and the dog “Noose” went on the postponed hunt today. They saw 10
deer—8 in one herd—but brought back nothing. “Noose” followed the trail of one deer
nearly a mile and “opened” finely on the trail deer.
Thursday April 29, 1875
I have been so busy this week getting ready to move that I have not written any “notes.”
Today we moved into our new house and tonight we sleep on our own dung hill. I feel
pretty well
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tuckered out and must turn in early. Brenda is also a little under the weather from the
unpacking.
Sunday May 2, 1875
—Here sitting at my little table in our sitting room I write my few small notes. The
student lamp our Sunday dissipation is shedding a greenish twinge of bright light on the
paper and the “Bonny” will be down tomorrow! The children are asleep and Brenda is
opposite, happy and contented in her own home writing to her mother. About two
million enormous flies, each over an inch in length are buzzing up above among the
rafters and trying to “but” their green heads off. Their corpses strew the floor and we
have to sweep them out about three times a day. One or two mosquitos have managed to
get in and a few sand flies. But mosquitoes and sand flies are plenty out of doors.
We have had warm weather today. The mercury was up to 88 or 9 and a [word crossed
out] fine breeze blowing until the sun went down.
Yesterday it was warmer—about 1°.
Fred and Baggs pulled over 60 rough edge boards last night which Fred and I loaded the
day before.
We can now complete the fence and make our slats [illegible] deep.
I have broken ground [word crossed out] and staked my paths. The grubbing hoe turns
up some good earth. But as yet I cant do any potato hilling. I use my time preparing and
enriching plots for planting
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fresh seeds as I may get them. I have now space enough in readiness for 2,000 orange
lemon, citron, or other seeds in shady places and “soap suds” wood ashes, filth and such
like matter being worked in .
My bananas have increased to sixteen and are doing finely.
The well water is clear and sulphury like Fred’s, but so piney in taste that we shall not be
able to drink it for weeks.
Fred’s boat house and the skiff to be repaired are the laid out work for the week on the
other side of the rail fence. I shall continue to break ground and “cultivate.” My crop of
roots is a splendid one!
Freddie, Phip and the baby still in good condition and Brenda feeling much better since
getting into our house.
Eight pigs arrived at Fred’s ranch yesterday afternoon and various chickens are expected
next week. Phip calls the little pigs “cats.”
Monday May 3, 1875
It is 3 o’c and the “Bonny” appears coming down the river. I intended to add a letter to
these random notes but that will go by Pine Level I suppose. I have been busy and had
no time. Besides I will
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continue this style of letter and send with it.
Tell Mother and Em I will write to them before long. I seem to have very little time now
to do any writing at all except by fits and starts. Now we are in the house I shall have my
evenings to devote to such a purpose.
Give my love to them both and Brenda’s also.
We are all well and trying to bring order out of chaos and to make ends meet.
The warm weather still continues.
Today 90°.
But most delightful breezes accompany.
Hope you found all well.
Write often and so will we.
Ever yours
Jarvis
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Punta Gorda Chica
Charlotte Harbor
May 15, 1875
My dear Pa,
The “Santa Maria”—or rather Sainted Maria—came down the river last night. She is
anchored off De Coster’s. Fred and George go over in 10 minutes to take letters and find
out her destination. On the chance of her going to Key West I drop you a line.
Tomorrow I intended to devote to letter writing and have no extensive matter prepared.
We are getting along nicely. Yesterday I planted 225 orange seeds through kindness of
De Coster. Fred will put in today 256. His trees are making prodigious starts and if the
gentle showers
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continue as they have will double in size in the next three weeks.
The boat house is done and it looks picturesque besides being answerable as a protection.
I will write further about that and other things tomorrow.
Our house is extremely comfortable. While during a heavy blow Fred’s house was
flooded ours was able only to show a small leak. The rain fairly poured in sheets. And at
an almost horizontal angle. Thunder and lightning accompanies every storm.
I am now ready for potato hilling and commenced yesterday. It is easier
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work than I supposed. I first clear the surface of oak and paw paw roots and then go
ahead.
The bananas grow splendidly and offer at the same time a chance of fruit next January.
We are all well. Brenda is happy and contented. Phip is fat, Freddie anxious to go
constantly to Uncle Fred’s and the baby as good as pie.
Your letter from Kinderhook received on Monday. Glad to hear you got home safely.
De Coster did write and sent on Curry’s a/c with my letter from Pine Level. Bartholf
preferred to wait for his money. The draft was therefore
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destroyed. Send money therefore.
Curry has gone down on the Keys for a “shoot.” He went to Joselyns and he may never
come back!
My pigs are not to come after all. The mail male pig, Mr. Phillips writes was lost weight
“to the extent of about two stone” and would he thought be [illegible word crossed out]
useless. I shall take two of Freds and invest the $6 in some other necessity.
George has 4 chickens out of his “set.” Another hen is clucking.
Ther. lately has been about 89 and 90°. Today about 80°. Delicious breezes. No
mosquitoes for 3 days.
More tomorrow.
Hastily,
Jarvis
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Charlotte Harbor
June 6, 1875
My dear Pa,
On Thursday evening both the “Bonny” and “Santa Maria” reached here from Key
West—the former nearly two days ahead of the latter on the trip. Fred and I boarded the
“Bonny” and got letters and papers and the next morning went over to De Coster’s to
receive them. They were all enclosed in a bag to De Coster and Mrs D C had to open it
before we could hear from home. Among other things I received four different copies of
the “Sun” relating to “Lawrence, the Smuggler.” What a reputation the man is getting! I
found also a couple of letters from you up to May 21 and an enclosure of $5. Thanks!
Two weeks before Fred and I received the $100 and Fred this mail the $200. The freight
also came safely and opportunely. Freddie’s shoes fit a little too much but are just the
cheese. Thanks for all the good things you sent.
Mr. Curry has not been very anxious to get his money and therefore I think the remainder
can be put off some little time yet. Two weeks ago I had it ready for him. Last Monday
he came back from the keys, having been there hunting about four weeks. Capt. Joselyn
brought him up. The new party consisting of George, De Coster, Key, Waldron, and four
three others were about starting for a round
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hunting trip and Old Curry couldn’t resist the temptation to join. He therefore went. The
latest party turned up on Friday night starved and miserable. They had been on the gulf,
got upset and the last two days had very little to eat. George cut his foot on oyster shells
and they lost their load of lemon trees and limes and plums. Still they brought back two
300 pound turtles—“loggerheads.” Last night we had turtle eggs, for dinner turtle steak,
today we had more steak and eggs and have some left for tomorrow. The second turtle
still lives boxed up in De Coster’s dock and next week week [sic] we expect to try some
more.
The last week with us has been clam and fish week. That is considering the turtle a fish!
An A spanish black man about a week ago sailed up in a small boat containing 300
clams. We bought 150 for $2.25 and from that time until Friday—just a week I believe—
we had roast clams, clam soup, stewed clams etc alternating at each meal. The last
disappeared about the time George arrived from the Keys with the turtle. Each clam was
larger than any I ever saw at the north and very fine eating. Four clams would make a
meal for our family and the same would do for Fred’s. Their flavor was throughly [sic]
clammy and not at all coarse. I wish you had had some before you left us. But we will
hope for better luck next time.
While George was away Fred and [omission] finished up the new fence. Yes, at last, the
fence around both our places is finished. And we are surrounded! We were about two
weeks with other work, getting it up. It was
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a tough job and the place looks so much more civilized since its finish. The rail moving
was about the worst part of it. Our best day at Fred’s side was 302 rails taken down,
carried to their places and built into the new fence. On my side the distance was twice as
long—toward the last over 600 feet—and the ground uneven with palmetto roots. Yet we
took 170 one day on that side. Our rail portion of the 2000 feet of fence is 8 rails high
and the back part 3 boards deep—the former about 4:6 and the latter 4:3 or 4 high. It
looks quite fine with a gate for “wagons” etc at each corner and an entrance gate at the
end of each of our walks at the back.
Most of the time we were building this fence the thermometer marked from 85 to 91°.
Even at night it never got below 80°. Three days it was 91° from 12 o’c to ½ past 3. In
fact during the last month the weather has been about the same. The average noon mark
was 87°. And not one day has passed without a strong breeze blowing from morning to
night and often all night. Very little rain has visited us so far. We hear thunder and see
lightning flashes often but it is always just beyond us and we don’t receive the benefit of
it. But it will soon be deluging us I hope and the sooner the better.
Two weeks ago I commenced to potato-ise. But so far have accomplished little. The
ground has been too dry to rake up the hills. My only preparation has been to take up all
roots, paw paw “cumpty,” [?] oak and such, leaving the ground clean of
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everything but grass. I have managed to get out three enormous plies of roots and cleared
thuswise a space 50 x 200 ready for hilling. Some of the roots were as large as palmetto
roots.
My fence work and root work have put us behind in my “palmettoes six a day.” I have
one week’s worth to make up before I will be even.
My oranges planted two weeks ago are coming up nicely. The first one came on the 2nd
of June. Today I can count 20. In a week I hope to count nearly all.
Three weeks ago I transferred on of Fred’s large trees to the opening of my walk leading
to his house. It is doing well. Another one to match will be transferred when some
decent wet weather comes.
A month ago De Coster gave me 8 roots of different varieties of grape vines and the same
to Fred. They all looked dead, but we planted them. One of mine has sprouted and is
covered with a dozen leaves. What kind of grape it will prove I cant say, but I hope time
will show. The
The bananas have done splendidly but seem weak with lack of rain or something else. I
shall take them in hand tomorrow and revivify them. They have outgrown their strength I
think.
Yesterday afternoon, with the thermometer at 90° I started a road down to the upper
“head.” By tea time I had one 6 feet wide and 120 feet long. It is fully as hard and
smooth as that in front of Freds house, and will be just what we want for “muck” carting.
A six feet wide path runs direct from Freddie’s window to the back gate 130 feet long,
and a “circumbendilius“ stretches 6 feet wide
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from our house to Fred’s. On the other side of where the fence stood it makes a curve to
the river coming out at the wharf where one from Fred’s house curves to meet it. One 8
feet wide stretches with a gentle curve from my house to the water and passes up on the
other side—or rather both sides to the kitchen.
Just in front of the kitchen I have planted a rubber tree which is thriving splendidly.
Fred’s boat house is finished and leading from one side is a boat wharf 24 feet long. He
will probably write to you all about it.
10 new chickens appeared in a brood the latter part of this week. 2 the hen kicked to
death and one “Neuse” killed. So far the chickens do splendidly—but why should three
be “dominicks”?
Now to answer some of your questions. I refer to your letter of May 14. First: “How do
you and George get along?” George and I get along first rate. I never quarrel with him
and he don’t seem inclined to quarrel with me. As it takes two to make a good old
fashioned quarrel I don’t see how when neither had the desire how the matter can be
accomplished. I have won him by loaning him my gun and “fixins” whenever he want to
go for a deer. In fact I haven’t seen that double barrelled gun for two weeks. He takes
good care of it and tries hard to shoot something but with poor success so far as deer are
concerned. Two or three weeks ago I believe he did bring one buck to his knees but
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he got away. On the keys he was more successful and killed numerous birds bringing
home their plumes as trophies. But I cant help telling one of his yarns which upon Fred
doubting its truth he was vexed. George says it rained so hard on “Carry de Costa” or
some other key that a demijohn (2 gal) was placed out in the rain and filled by the natural
dropping of the rain in 15 minutes. Supposing the demijohn to be a foot high and the
diameter size of the nozzle one eighth the size of the diameter of the body 8 feet of water
must have fallen in that storm. Still, George and De Coster insist upon its truth. Great
country! But I get on with George simply by never doubting (openly) what he says, never
disputing and always giving him the greater part of the road. He rides along as smoothly
as pie then. But he is a queer youth, nevertheless. I am afraid Fred has to do a little of
the “ragged edge” business over at the log house. Sometimes I don’t see him for several
days except when he comes for chicken feed. You may rest assured, however, that Fred
and I both will try our best to make him comfortable and I see no reason why he should
not be as happy here as at any place else.
Every opportunity I can get to send a letter to you I take advantage of. Sometimes I get a
chance and miss it by not being able to get on board a schooner bound to Key West.
None of them stop now and we have to board them. Fred and George nearly swamped 2
weeks ago in attempting the “Bonny.” Fred and I will probably make the attempt
hereafter whenever feasable [sic]. I know how much
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you desire to hear from us all and will try always to send when a chance occurs. The
children remain well and hearty. Freddie wilts a little occasionally when he get the run of
the water pail and runs in the sun more than is good for him, but generally he is happy
and puckish and always ready to go over to Uncle Fred’s. Phip is as brown as a button
and fat as a monk besides being as hearty as he can possibly be. He is as fine a specimen
of a boy in perfect health as anyone could wish to see. He still works harder than anyone
else at Punta Gorda Chica and never seems to tire. He takes his nap every afternoon on
in the hammock swing on the front piazza and his eyes are as big as saucers when he
wakes up about 4 o’c. Rain may fall, the wind howl and changes occur in various ways
but he sleeps on contented and happy. He includes in his usual prayer “Pop Pop, baby,
shug,” every night. That prayer you are no doubt familiar with “Mama, baby, shug; Papa,
baby, shug; Pop Pop, baby, shug; ub=mama, baby, shug; ‘men, baby shug!” When he is
asked where Pop Pop is he answers “boon” “Pop Pop ‘boon.” The baby grows and
amuses himself at times quite nicely and then again he is a great care. The little mite has
not deigned to show his teeth yet and he causes much wonder therea-ment. Take the
three boys together they are well but don’t they make nuisances of themselves at times.
You bet. They are a great care, but neither Brenda nor I would be without them for any
money.
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As to Brenda, she is well and she is not well. At times she feels quite comfortable and
easy and then again quite under the weather. She is hardly strong enough for the task
allotted her in this far away country and still endeavors to make up in ambition and
energy what she lacks in strength. The cares of a mother necessitate much natural worry
and the little ones sometime seem to add to this natural worry by extra mischief. They
seem to watch their oppertunity [sic] and take her unawares when I am off somewhere,
then they make “Rome howl.” When in addition to the boys the weather is warm and
things don’t work smoothly matters creep ahead faster than she can follow. In steps Mrs.
and Mr. Mosquito to help and the result is sick headache somewhat similar to Mother’s.
Brenda won’t give up and as darkness comes sooner or later she catches up and always
commences the day fairly and squarely as Old Sol peeps over the upper head. I help all I
can and in various ways to make matters glide smoothly but the wheels of our Florida
chariot will often get into a quagmire. Of course in order to get meals regularly for the
sake of the children’s health; and to get the bread baking and other incidental matters
under weigh there is much generalship to be gone through with and so far we have come
through safely and comfortably always up to time. It is the outside dish washing and
other duties that have to be chased around “Robin Hood’s barn.” I hope no serious
trouble will happen of Ben or any of us and that we may pull through the summer nicely.
Out of the barrel of flour Brenda
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has made 52 loaves of bread, besides pans of biscuit, molasses cake and other little
delicacies. This is our item of statistics. And while I am about it I may mention another.
Our 9 hens laid 398 eggs in thee months ending June 1.
Lately Brenda has been fortunate in getting Teenah [?], July’s wife to come over every
second Monday and do some washing. This black specimen with the assistance of Wash
Bain her brother, manages to make considerable inroad into the dirty linen and flannel.
She takes her pay in corn pork and such things. She don’t object to bad bacon at times
and relishes such delicious morsels as would turn our more fastidious stomachs. When
Teenah arrives on wash day our side of the river seems quite densely populated. First
Teenah moves along with her baby 3 months old on one arm then follows Wash with a
boy and little Jamesy brings up the rear. For the last two months Fred has had John
Lomond’s wife Esther (or Easter, as Teenah calls her) and her two children. They rush
out all three and greet Aunt Teenah and 10 minutes for talk ensue. Then they all trot over
to our place for the day’s work—that is all our nigs. On her first trial Teenah washed
about 10 dozen clothes, our 3 months collection. Wash, her assistant Jarve Bains brother,
is a character. He tends baby, washes, (we don’t have any ironing or starching) chops
wood and goes for water. He is all mouth and white pantaloons. In fact his trousers
come up so high that his mouth seems to be the natural opening at the top. His legs
remind one of two upright pieces of rail supporting a pair of white pants. His feet are
peculiarly niggery and
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the nails enter them at the centre. In walking, one foot (or foot and a half) turns in and
the other out and his walk is very peculiar. Wash don’t like “Neuse,” nor “Neuse” him.
The richest sight on wash day is to see the white pants go over to Fred’s for water. His
eyes go first lobster fashion, looking for “Neuse.” Then the pants and pail follow. One
day “Neuse” went for him. Wash had got opposite the house when “Neuse” caught a
glimpse of him. Our opposite neighbors were at dinner. Fred was first astonished by
hearing a fearful shriek then the white pants darkened the doorway and Wash was an
uninvited guest at Fred’s dinner table. It took Wash 10 minutes to find out what he
brought over. Sometimes you will see a pair of white pants flit around the back side of
Fred’s kitchen, very much hurried, and then again some hours after see the same ghostly
attire making a detour by the back fence to get at Fred’s pump—but always accompanied
by a sadly frightened black face, with projecting eyeballs and a quickly moving pair of
spindle shanks.
Little “Jamesey” is 3 years old and the piccaninny 3 months. Jamesey has a man’s voice
and he sings a sort of cow holler to the baby’s ear to get him to sleep while he pokes
small sticks in the little fat India rubber mouth to keep him awake. Then naturally “Pie”
yells and Jamesey hollers; Wash joins in as a finisher and Teenah adds “Ef yer don’t let
that ar baby alone I’ll kill yer” and the lot furnish music for quick enjoyment. Oh we
have lots of fun in Florida. Brenda was quite astonished last wash day to
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[MS splotched] him Teenah order Wash to [splotched] give the infant a “ ‘tater to keep
him quiet.” and Wash rammed it down the little one’s throat until—well, until he was
black in the face.
It takes about two days of clean up after the nigs—get things ship shape—but we get our
washing done.
Esther, or Easter, over at Freds is a dying darkey. She has all the ails and aches that flesh
is heir to. Fred has used up nearly all his medicines on her already and I expect him soon
to commence on my stores. She gets Fred out of bed at midnight to see her die, and
relates most woful [sic] stories to him. She is quite a character in her small way. She
was a “heap poorly, ‘fore she came down yer,” but she is better now. Last week Anna
was getting out some dried apples when Easter said: “I’ve often heered on tother side
how you’se lived on fancy things, and now I reckon I b’lieve it.” She wears a dirty white
towel wrapped around her head and smokes a larger pipe than Teenah does. But she
manages to do some washing and cleaning up—the dirty kitchen work—and is much help
to the deacon and Co.
Yes—we are in our own house and “going on six weeks.” It is just lovely—the situation
considered. Most of our meals we take on the back piazza and only occasionally within.
The kitchen has become too warm and “mosqutery” and it is a pleasant change for
Brenda to get out of her hot kitchen with them at 90° and sit in the breeze on our shady
piazza. The little house
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is almost mosquito proof and will be fully in time. By proper care we can enjoy our
nights much needed rest without any extra buzzing. But one of these days I’ll show it all
in a sketch—when I get time.
B. B. is a “bully brick” and a real friend in need. I am sorry though he has such a poor
opinion of Florida as I hear through George.
I probably owe Mr. Curry yet about $55. I thought I wouldn’t figure up until he became
anxious for the money.
Now to turn to your letter of 21st.
You say you received my diary and a batch of letters. I intended to keep up that diary
afterward but have been so busy. Now I have time I will try to continue at odd moments.
I was afraid you would think it too much of a good thing. However you shall have it
from this time forth: full and explicit.
Your advice about the pigs Fred and I will endeavor to follow. I shall take two of his
instead of those Phillips did not send and try to get a boar or sow to mix up matters when
the time comes.
I’ll watch the two heads as you desire. Last Thursday Fred and I went in the white boat
to the upper head to look after a couple of hundred white cranes and some pink curlew
that alighted there. We entered the tide creek and actually went to the end of it. When
we reached the end we found we had serpentined 2 miles back and were over a mile
directly back of our shanties in the woods. We found no birds
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but plenty of fish. In the afternoon we got grains and went back for fish. I speared a
sword fish and a shark, but the eating fish had left. The sword on my fish was 20 inches
long.
So far as weather is concerned we have had the best I have yet experienced in Florida
since you left us. It was warm but not sultry and a month ago we had frequent rains of no
great value except to make variety. Cool and strong breezes blow almost constantly and
we manage to enjoy life, when we have leisure to do it, with the greatest pleasure.
It is getting late and I will defer until tomorrow some added notes.
P.G.C. Monday June 7, 1875.
This morning I was out of bed at daylight, took breakfast at sunrise and was at
DeCoster’s wharf when the sun was nearly an hour high. DeC. was in bed but came out
soon after I had got Teenah, Wash, and Jamesey stowed away. Then I rowed back and
got my freight landed just as Fred was sitting down to breakfast.
Six dozen pieces was the day’s work at washing. For pay corn and coffee sufficed.
This evening I have taken back with Fred’s help my black freight.
Mosquitoes fearful. Worse yet. But don’t trouble us much in the house.
The “Charry M” came in from Key West Saturday. She is expected to go to Cedar Keys
on her return trip.
Curry denominates a hand basin “palm-pan.” How is that?
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Threatens to rain at intervals during the day but only a small shower comes to a head.
Every thing is dry and parched.
Made some more paths—took up some palmetto roots—others.
Find 30 orange trees up all told of the new batch. Fred has only 5 yet and De Coster
none: Out of 4000 De C. planted none have yet come.
Thermometer today about 89° for the highest.
George still laid up with a lame foot.
Brought back from De C’s cake made with turtle eggs instead of hens. Oh, tasted quite
good.
P.G.C. Tuesday June 8, 1875
At intervals during the day rain has fallen but in small showers. Earth dampened 1 ½
inches. It brought up six more oranges. 36 all told. Fred has 9 now. His come slowly.
Tide very high today, but don’t cover swamp in upper head.
Gave my bananas a bucket of water each yesterday and more today. They like it and look
better. Some of the leaves are a yard long.
Unbuttoned and buttoned up Phip’s drawers 19 times today—Item for statistical column!
Fred has “sox” [?] another hen.
Lately we have been having the most gorgeous sunsets you can possibly imagine. Such a
wealth of color I’ve ever saw anywhere. Tonight was a glorious specimen.
Mosquitoes beastly tonight. Can’t write any more.
As the “Bonny” is expected soon I’ll seal this for shipment and place it ready for sending.
Brenda sends love to all and so do I.
Jarvis
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Charlotte Harbor
June 9, 1875
My dear Pa,
In anticipation of the “Bonny” soon appearing I finished my letter and diary to go by her.
Fred has written a long letter to you which I suppose Capt. Archie has taken to Cedar
Keys, George having just gone over (noon) to give it him. It is a matter of doubt which
letter will reach you first. Let us know. And now I will continue my diary.
Noon Wednesday June 9, 1875
Phip is in his hammock, the baby is asleep and Brenda is washing up the dinner dishes.
Anna has just sent over a small batch of biscuit. George and Freddie are over the river,
Fred is resting as I am for our nooning. The sun is warm and ther. about 80°. A
delightful breeze blows in the double window and the air seems cool and refreshing as I
sit at the table in what will be one of these days our sitting room.
The “Santa Maria” and “Charry M” have just gone by, the former a mile ahead of the
latter. The S-M goes to Punta Rassa and the C.M. to Cedar Keys.
About daylight this morning Mr. Curry came over with Key for his ducats. I gave him
the $60 and got his receipt. He was delighted and said nothing about the remainder. I
however told him to make out his bill up to date and I would send north for the balance as
I feared I should not do any more work on the house “until fall.”
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He took most of his tools away. Key and he used up considerable of the nearing [?] on
Fred’s roof fixing his shingles where the rain found entrance in an easterly blow some
weeks back. No charge, of course.
Curry says he had a good time hunting. Old Joselyn got him on his place and made him
build a house and make a deck to his boat. Curry says he never heard a man curse worse
than Old Joselyn. It made his hair stand up! And now Curry talks of going off again
hunting.
I hear that the mill is to be moved to Ogden. Mott has asked Key to help do the job. The
mill has been for sale for several weeks and De Coster was expected to buy, but it seems
this last move is to be the programme.
Haven’t seen a snake for a week!
The last one, a seven foot gopher, gave me a call as I was dressing. I fired at him out of
the window with my revolver and missed. He has been missing since.
We had a 10 minute shower this morning.
Last evening George found that the hammer of the right hand barrel of my gun was out of
order. On opening the lock he discovered the cause. A small catch connecting with the
hammer spring had broken in consequence of a flaw in the metal—rather spiked that
barrel. I send you a drawing of the inside mechanism in hopes that you can get the little
piece belonging to the gun duplicated in one of your trips to New York. I also send the
broken pieces, and all information as to bare --. There was not the slightest speck of rust
in the works, and it would not have been broken had it been originally perfect.
Page 35
42 oranges up in their little bed this morning.
Phip wants “more pork” every day.
Thursday June 10, 1875
Yesterday afternoon Bags and I took a sail down the bay. We took the “single-barrelleddouble-barrelled gun and the white boat. We went nearly to the old wharf and George
shot a “golding” (a large blue crane). We brought him back—reaching house about ½
past 6. While George and Fred were debating whether the bird was good to eat or not
“Easter” appeared “uh de do” and remarked: “Mr. Howard I’ve seen a heap of white folks
eat dat as kind of crane, taint us nigger food, taint no nigger food.”: On the strength of
that Fred cooked it. We had some and it was quite good. Anna sent it over for our
dinner.
Ther. 91° today.
50 oranges up today and bananas looking better.
Friday June 11, 1875
—Weather warm and sultry; very little wind this morning but a good strong one this
afternoon. This afternoon rain fell for 15 minutes quite strongly.
62 oranges up today.
Fred’s have commenced. 15 is his count today.
De Coster came over with some more turtle today. He took a cup of tea with Fred and
afterwards called on us. Curry came too. Freddie was delighted. So was “Brown Phip.”
The “Bonny” is now to come Monday.
Fred and I are fixing up the old skiff. George with a lame foot can’t help. Made a center
board box this afternoon. Also commenced and nearly completed steps to the house.
Added some gardening and
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digging, and various other little chores.
Saturday June 12, 1875
Warm again today and very little wind. Ther. at 91° from 1 o’c to 3.30.
68 oranges up. Still they come.
Put a keel on the skiff with Fred’s help and the center board in, besides over hauling her
bottom.
Almost too warm for work.
Accomplish something.
Go to bed early.
Mosquitoes fearful.
Sunday June 13, 1875
One of the finest days of the season. Warm, high temperature but a most delicious
westerly breeze.
Brenda feels real well today. Freddie ditto, Phip the same, and the baby just “first best.”
Do considerable letter writing for the “Bonny.”
Weather approaching 90°, seems like 70°. A wonderful day.
Washed myself all over; then Freddie and then Phip—very usual Sunday custom. Place
the dirt thereby obtained on bananas.
Had some cake for tea made by Brenda with turtle eggs instead of hen’s eggs.
No hen’s eggs last night on the weekly summing up. Brenda over drawn the bank two
eggs. All hens setting or about to. Can’t supply setting hens fast enough with eggs.
The “Bonny” hereafter will load cattle at Camp Whiffle—2 miles from here. Good for
us—if true.
75 oranges today. Fred catching up He has 45. More to come.
We have just had tea on the back
Page 37
piazza. Off to the eastward bearing clouds have shown occasional lightning flashes and
the distant mutterings of thunder were heard. The sun (golden) is setting in a gorgeously
tinted sky. The wind which has been gradually dying out is preparing to follow the sun.
Brenda is clearing up the tea things for me to take over and Freddie and Phip are
helping—in the usual way. The baby is lying on the floor with a spoon in his mouth—
“plated silver one.” Over at Fred’s I see “Easter” in the doorway; her husband—on a
visit from Pine Level—sitting outside; the two small nigs running after chickens trying to
get Fred’s last watermelon; Neuse and George trying to howl on the piazza, the cat
“Maitley” just visable [sic] as a white spot chasing Anna from house to kitchen and old
Deacon Fred gazing learnedly at his orange trees to find out which next will need
watering. And as I write this the sun drops behind Key’s house, the wind dies out, and
the betokening rain, don’t show half as many signs of visiting us as it did.
John Lomond will soon go over to the other side and all finished letters will go with him
for De Coster to place on the “Bonny” should she come tonight.
This I’ll “wind up” to go with the rest.
Today “Florida is the Italy of America.” Tomorrow it may be a sort of Florida of Italy.
I’ve several more letters to write and the baby is crying.
With much love to Mother and Em and with Brenda’s love to all at home with a little
particularization of “Pop Pop”
I add
Yours ever
Jar Vis
Page 38
Charlotte Harbor, Monday June 14, 1875
Today has proved to be a very curious one for Florida. Rain, hard, have fallen in
considerable quantity with much sunshine and a great deal of strong wind—a sort of
mixture of the elements rather unusual. The day opened fairly and pleasantly. Heavy
clouds appeared circulating about us and then a lull succeeded. It was extremely war.
The thermometer graduated between 85° and 91°. (By the way yesterday at 3 o’c it was
92°.) Very little breeze greeted us until we had finished dinner. Then as Brenda was
clearing up the dinner dishes and I had just put up 70 feet of potato hill—a small shower
having given me an opportunity—the big storm came. The wind howled the rain flew
and I quickly raked [?] Phip out of his hammock and shut doors and windows. Two of
my doors are not hung yet the material for facing being only now ready to put up. I
braced these doors and waited. With a rush rain and wind came and the house seemed to
rock with the intensity of it. The wind was north westerly. Immense waves, white
capped, could be seen on the bay, and each shower traced along them as it came toward
us. So fierce did it blow that the rain came through the shingles, lap boarding and even
seemed to come through the window panes. Then I began to hear amid the shower of
drops on the roof odd crackling sounds. It rather astonished me for I thought the roof was
giving way. Then I felt easier as the sounds increased in number and out in front I
noticed little white pellets dancing along the path and over the grass. Presently these
pellets came faster and large and an old fashioned hailstorm bore down upon us. Thick
and fast they fell and the noise was
Page 39
deafening. And when you consider that the average size was ¾ of an inch in diameter,
with some as large as the bowl of a tea spoon, the noise must have been great. I am not
exaggerating in the least. They looked very much, these hailstones, like the “China
allies” that I used to play with when I was a youngster—if any thing larger .The ground
was quite tinged with white. They fell so rapidly. Brenda and Freddie in the kitchen got
a soaking—or rather the rain came in in plenty—and Brenda managed to collect
hailstones enough to furnish herself with ice water. After the shower I learned that Fred
and Anna did likewise. And for a wonder no panes of glass were broken, no orange trees
damaged as far as we can find out and in fact nothing injured. My banana leaves which
looked so pretty were cut to ribbons but that was all. “Easter” says she “never saw nuffin
like it over yore,” and I have no doubt it is a Florida novelty. The rain was very thorough
and it gave me considerable sweet potato hills before dark.
I also transferred with Fred’s help another of his big trees and I have now one on each
side of my walk where it commences to twistificate over to his house.
The “Bonne went out just before the storm and we could not determine whether she
managed to get letters on board or not. John Lomond took them all over at daylight this
morning as De Coster was sure to board her and the schooner ran in close. She was
loaded with cattle.
To night there are no mosquitoes and the weather is cool for the season. Thunder and
lightning are seen in the distance as I write this preparating [sic] to going to bed.
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Punta Gorda Chica, Tuesday June 15, 1875
It is now afternoon. I sit holding the baby while Brenda gets tea and improve my time
making a few notes.
This morning I got up some more hills and planted some potato vines. By 10 o’c it
became too warm to continue and I gave up. Not a breath of air was stirring and the bay
from sunrise until that time had been like a mirror. Not a ripple was visable [sic]. The
mercury marked 88° as I left off.
George and Fred worked at the skiff and Fred did some hoeing and planting.
George now talks of getting up some potato hills and Fred has given him ground where
he can plant and reap the profits.
Freddie and Phip are bothering Brenda and have just been turned out of the kitchen.
They are coming like wild Indians with yells. So more anon.
Evening—Fine weather this afternoon and a beautiful sunset, as usual.
Excitement over at Fred’s! Fred bitten by a scorpion while fixing skiff. George picks it
off Fred’s neck and calls it a centipede. Fred rushes for snake medicine and after taking
it discovers that it was only a “scorpy.” He threw up and did every thing else to excess
and the result is he has gone to bed early.
Brenda has just come over from Fred’s with the news.
Moonlight, thunder, and lightning as I turn in.
Punta Gorda Chica, Wednesday June 16, 1875
More warm weather without a breeze. From daylight until 10 o’c the bay was like a sheet
of glass. The fogs seem to be reaching closer. Every morning lately we see, as the sun
gets up, dense banks of fog lifting 2 or 3 miles above Coon Key and over beyond De
Coster’s. This morning the fog was on Coon Key and shut out a portion of the opposite
shore.
Mosquitoes quite lively to-day.
Page 41
Fred better this morning, but still feels as if he had “made a night of it.” George’s foot
also improving.
George in fixing up skiff run short of tar and Fred and I had to go to the woods for
lightwood and build a kiln to give him more. Hot work! Thermometer at 90° again.
P.G.C. Thursday June 17, 1875.
Another sheet of glass and extremely warm weather. Thermometer reaches 92°—of
course in the shade. In the sun I should imagine it was about 300.
We hear that very little rain has visited up country contrary to custom and the crops are
suffering there from.
Put a deck on skiff today with Fred and George to help.
Tar rampant!
Bad day for work of any kind.
Baby fretful—undoubtedly he is going in for a few teeth.
Phip into mischief today. Filled up my well with palmetto roots grass shingles and dirt.
Of course he was spanked—but I was all the evening clearing the well out. I took out a
small cart load.
90 oranges today and more to come.
Bananas look fine—although two shoots died. Two more have come and we are still
even.
Oh! Could you but see the gorgeous sunsets!
Mosquitoes fearful!
P.G.C. Friday June 18, 1875
Warm still. Thermometer 91° at 2 o’c.
Finish up skiff today and get it into the water—with seams covered and tarred new
deck—center board and made new. Many hours were spent on the old craft to make her
new and to enable us to get an occasional fish. She took to the water finely and filled in
two hours. But such a swell of a boat
Page 42
we expect to swell sufficiently to overcome all leaks in a day or two.
I also today made Brenda a pair of steps for the house. It took me almost two days at odd
moments to make it out of “rough edge” and it is an object of interest to the entire
neighborhood this evening.
Phip tries a new dodge to day. He upsets my inkstand on the new floor in the sitting
room. I believe sometimes the boy is possessed with “pure cussedness” at times. Both
Freddie and Phip have lately become so enamored of “Mandy” and “George
Washington” over at Uncle Fred’s that we’ve had to deny them the blessed privalege [sic]
of going to “Aunty’s.” Naturally there is trouble in the house of J.C. It is astonishing to
me why white children always favor blacks for play mates. Freddie particularly seems
perfectly infatuated.
The “Saint Maria” came in this afternoon from Punta Rassa and as usual run aground
opposite on the bar. Perhaps the skipper considered it a “good place to stop and take
supper!” This reminds me of a little story, as the “late lamented” would say. Mr. Mort
[?] of the mill went to Key West in her. He described the trip to Fred and me lately. The
trip lasted 9 days. They run aground no less then 8 times going out of the harbor. When
the wind blew freshly Captain and crew would hold council and decide upon the course
to pursue. The result generally was: “Well, we are safe now, let’s anchor. This is a first
rate place to get dinner.” Then it would in due time appear to be also “a likely place to
take supper,” and as darkness came
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“There couldn’t be a better place to stop all night.” Captain and crew would turn in and
at daylight, Captain, crew and passengers would rub their eyes look about, snuff the
weather and perhaps proceed. One of the fairest breezes possible greeted them outside,
and after running until noon, they all concluded that Punta Rassa would be a “first rate
harbor to run into ----.” There they stopped another night. Then they got under way and
reached Marco inlet, where they concluded to anchor again as it “was a first rate place to
pass the night” and so on for 9 days until they reached Key West. Mort told it all in such
a jolly way that it was quite interesting. When the wind was fresher than usual the
Captain and crew would canvas the possibilities and three captains would run the
schooner. All was hurry and fuss on board. If a rope was to be hauled the proper man
was not at hand and perhaps all hands would rush and so all through the trip. Coming
back Mott says they laid in for stores a barrel of salt junk and another of hard tack and
eked out their trip with such fodder.
So I suppose as they are on the bar they conclude that it is also a good place to pass the
night on. Especially so as the tide is falling and they can’t fall with it.
We learn to day that our letters to go by “Bonne” were not put on board ------- landing.
De Coster’s positive promise that they would be so placed. He was off cow hunting and
Joe and Fanny started to board the boat but became afraid and backed out.
95 oranges today. Fred catching up. He has 65.
Quite a squall tonight but very little rain.
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P.G.C. Saturday, June 19, 1875
In looking for my gold pen to write a few notes tonight I fixed it with the points turned at
right angles and Phip says: “Me, nar, nar, nan.” So I suppose he has tried to improve it for
me. I have straightened it out and it seems to work all right.
Do some potato hilling, some grubbing some carpentering, some digging, some planting
and the usual chores.
George and Fred go fishing along shore thermometer at 90°. Catch a 6 pound red fish.
Ben and I eat half of him at tea time.
By the way, at daylight this morning see the “Santa Maria” passing up with the tide and
no wind. Later in the day toward noon Freddie calls my attention to a sail up the river.
The Captain of the Sainted Maria undoubtedly found another place just right for dinner
with a bar barely at his keel. About 4 o’c the sails disappeared and the Sainted Maria is
doubtless pursuing her winding course up Peace Creek.
The wind to day of any account until afternoon. A real warm day. Hot as peaches.
Then, at 92° when the breeze came it was like a good drink of ice water; so very
refreshing.
Baby Harry quite under the weather, with his teething I suppose. He has none visable
[sic] yet, however.
Rain needed badly.
Fred does a large amount of watering every day. And I too begin to have some of that
kind of work to perform.
George tells me he has 48 eggs under 6 hens “all a settin’ nicely.”
Anna has her little cat and Fred his little dog now to follow them. When they come over
here their faithful
Page 45
attendants follow. It looks very funny to see both cat and dog together peacibly [sic] then
and fighting like mad when master and mistress are not at hand.
Fred’s big orange trees are doing nicely notwithstanding drought and his yearlings doing
as well. He’s little ones have increased to 75.
P.G.C. Sunday June 20, 1875
A delightful day with plenty of breeze.
Very little sleep for Brenda and me last night: Baby restless as well as toothless yet.
Wash up children in time for a jolly shower which gives life to vegetation and makes
things look quite green afterward.
Take our breakfast on the piazza and dinner and tea within doors.
Have to take care of baby nearly all day. Ben and I both feel like going to bed early and
therefore, having very little to say, say it quickly.
De Coster and family called on Fred and on us. He brought some green corn. They came
at tea time and we had it as much to eat after they left, as before they came.
Another slight rain after they left and a beautiful sunset in the midst of it.
De Coster was astonished at the look of my young orange trees and said that I had more
up than he. Today I have 100 out of 226 and he 70 out of 4000.
I have just noticed that Phip always sleeps with his feet on the pillow or in the
neighborhood of Freddie face and tonight I find him with both legs around Freddie’s
neck.
One of Fred’s watermelons furnished good dessert for us to day.
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Punta Gorda Chica Monday June 21, 1875
This morning Fred and George volunteered to go over for Tenah—the great American
Wash. The baby had been very restless all night and was so fretful and sick that I could
not leave him. Therefore Fred and George relieved me of the nigger duty. They came
back at 7 o’c without the “help.”
Toward 10o’c as Fred and George were attempting to spear some fish and while I was
doing field duty July, Tenah and the immortal Wash arrived with the piccaninny in De
Coster’s yawl. Tenah’s cows had to be taken to pasture and she was too late for Fred and
the white boat. They all ate heartily of the bad bacon and coffee—even the 3 month old
baby and then July took the boat back.
I continued planting until 10 o’c when I had to give in and take the baby and give Brenda
a chance at the rugs.
The washing proceeded well until about 4 o’c.
About that time there was a complete lull. The water was mirror like and the horizon
topped with heavy clouds.
George and I went up in the skiff as far as the “head” for fish. We had been gone about
½ an hour and struck at perhaps a dozen good ones—George did—without success. Then
I took the grains a ripple came and I was dished. A few waves followed and then a
mighty wind broke over us. It was in our backs and we made for our house. The rain
was following rapidly as I snatched Brown Phip from the hammock and shut up doors
and window. Then the shower broke over us: It rained
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it poured; it fairly squelched us. It was about as hard a rain as we have at the north in a
severe thunder shower only prolonged. For an hour and a half it came down like mad
without any intermission accompanied by wind at first and then thunder and lightning. It
came faster than it could sink in the ground. Fred’s house disappeared. The chicken
house, our shore and woods were faintly outlined and the green and gray were the
fashionable colors. The roof made a noise such as a thousand rattle boxes might make
and the rain set my potatoes finely.
George stopped to tea.
The niggers necessarily have to stop all night and Fred’s plants and trees are benefited.
So far each rain storm is ushered in by strong fierce winds and kept about us by thunder
and lightning. The thunder rolls in true theatric style and the lightning is not as fierce as I
have seen it else where.
Our corn at dinner was good—for Florida. But it was not Kinderhook corn!
We are a large population on the side of the river tonight.
Jaime Bains who shot a man near Manatee and was shot in return is back home with his
arm in a sling and only of use when lifted with the other. Tother [sic] man not damaged.
Quail in plenty, with little ones troop about us. They still keep in pairs.
The bay is getting to be quite fresh. Naturally queer grasses, weeds and plants are
sprouting along shore.
It is still raining as I turn in.
Baby seems better. Paregoric!
“Brown Phip” latest is trying on all the shoes he can find.
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Brenda dropped a dish and broke it today. Tenah looked up and said: “Mrs. Howard, why
don’t you get a snake shed and rub it up in your hands. You won’t drop no more dishes
nohow. Me and Wash used to be always a droppin’ em and we got a snake shed and
never dropped none since.” Upon inquiry find “snake shed” is the skin Mr. Snake throws
off when spring time comes. I advise Ben to try it!
George Washington is troubled with worms! That is the black infant by that name at
Fred’s. Fred has been doctoring George Washington and the child has been delivered of
several varying from a foot to two feet long. The boy is better!
Two more young chickens exploded from their little shells today and frightened Bags as
he was in the hen house. 46 more to come. The five hens “setting all in a row” look
quite cute as seen through a crack in the hen house.
And now to bed for an early start at potatoes tomorrow morning.
Punta Gorda Chica Tuesday June 22, 1875
A lovely morning greets me as I rise at daylight. The nigs have slept well and get to
work as soon as it is light. Wash has wood chopped and fire lighted as Brenda goes out
to get breakfast. I dress “Brown Phip” keep the baby quiet and hurry up Freddie. We all
sit down to breakfast soon after sunrise. Cool for the season and a gentle breeze on the
back piazza. Got at the hills early. Am wet through by the time the first half hour is
over. Accomplish considerable during the mornings and knock off at 11 o’c. As I go up
to the house my white shirt reminds
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me of old Dusolle and his strawberry marks during August.
By the way we have all had to come down to white shirts this warm weather.
Tenah gets through washing by noon. She takes pay in beef and pork and buys 50c worth
of corn.
After dinner we have more rain but not in such quantity as came yesterday. Still a great
deal. Much thunder and lightning the usual accompaniment.
Fred yesterday erected a platform at the hen house and today he is making ventilation
holes for stable parents’ young brood.
Fred’s orange and lemon trees have taken another big start since yesterday’s rain. But
wait a few days yet.
P.S. Just as I am taking the nigs over I see the Santa Maria and haste to get this on board.
Fred says tell Pa both Anna and himself have letters partially finished for home but
hardly time to finish.
Brenda says, she has a letter to Em commenced and is in same fix. She wants (please)
Mother and Em to write. She sends lots of love and hopes to be a good correspondent
one of these days.
And now for the schooner
Ever yrs
Jarvis
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Punta Gorda Chica
Charlotte Harbor
June 23, 1875
My dear Pa,
Yesterday during the shower I had just finished my “statement,” drawn out like “linked
sweetness” and laid it by until today to add a few wild notes. Then as there was no let up
I gathered my nigger forces together to dodge the rain drops and get across the river.
Just as I was entering the white boat with Fred and his little over coat who acted as
volunteer help, the sails of the Santa Maria were discovered just the other side of Coon
Key. I rushed back, added a line to my diary and ran over our serpentine pushed off the
boat and we were on our way to De Coster’s. There we found the “judge” up to his
elbows making a coop to send chickens to Key West. Of course he had plenty of time as
the schooner was beating down against a head wind. But presto! a little calm and the
wind changed showing the Sainted Maria, wing and wing, ”moving like a thing of life.”
The chicken coop was postponed and letters got ready. Old Joe was ordered out to get
the yawl ready—which he accomplished with breeches off—and as Fred and I were half
way over we could just discern De Coster and the old man making for the schooner to
head her off. We also made for the Sainted Maria and spoke the craft giving information
that the government official was somewhere along shore desirous of holding
communication with the outward bound boat. We learned that she was only bound for
Punta Rassa, but that letters and packages would be transferred to Capt. Yaut’s
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boat for ----- ----- which was rou—ing with cattle there.
Today we have a repetition of yesterday as far as weather has been concerned. Clear and
calm nearly all the morning thunder and lightning all the afternoon. It gives us good
chance for planting in the morning and saves us the trouble of watering during the
afternoon. And, as yet, I see nothing disagreeable connected with the rainy season. We
have a good mixture of weather during the day and plenty of cool fresh air at night. The
mosquitoes are not as troublesome as they were when you were here, still, we have
enough and to spare. We all go to bed so early that by the time they are sailing about
seeking whom to devour, we are safely dreaming under out canopies. Fred has been
troubled at his place much more than we have. Our house, even unfinished as it is, serves
generally to keep the mosquitoes from entering, even when we have a light, in any large
body. At the kitchen however they swarm. Sometimes it is impossible to stop in there 10
minutes after sunset.
This afternoon the rain was more prolonged than usual and as I “pop in” it still falls but
quite gently.
Eight more chickens hatched out to day. One is black—or seems so.
No more orange trees up. Fred counts 81. We shall probably get a hundred each from
our plantings.
Fred is making a little square grass plot in front of his house for protection to his fruit
trees and to try the effect of a growth of grass on Florida soil.
He tells me that he had some ripe tomatoes yesterday for dinner grown on his place—
some 4 inches in diameter. They were excellent Anna says.
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Punta Gorda Chica Thursday June 24, 1875
Still another clear morning and rainy afternoon.
“Make some potatoes” in the morning and let Nature water them in the afternoon. My
hills begin to look green with the sprouting vines. I have already out some 300 or more
and made 75 today. It is not quite so easy to break up new soil as to turn over old. But it
can be done. You would hardly know the place since I have dry up about the house and
got my various trees started. By October it will, if nothing happens, look quite
“potatery,” and very much advanced. I am preparing to set out some one year old orange
and lemon trees and have several holes dug for other trees. Under my double window I
have a nice little garden spot and shall shortly set out roses and such beautifiers. When I
get a chance I’ll try to show you a view of how things look. The banana trees show two
feet of stump and shoot up 2 feet higher looking so thrifty that people from the other side
are talking about the exceedingly rich soil at Jarve Howard’s place. Which pleases Jarve
Howard immensely!
But the rain is stopping and I will try to get in a few more ‘taters before tea time.
Evening.—Put in 20 more potato vines—of course building the foundation for the
purpose. The mosquitoes nearly finished me in the attempt.
Little Harry Landon seems much better to day but he shows no teeth. Brenda feels pretty
well this evening, but she, as well as myself, feels considerably tired.
Therefore “Good Night.”
Punta Gorda Chica Friday June 25, 1875
Last evening I arranged with George to “go a fishin’.” We had breakfast soon after
sunrise—George taking a few bits of ham with us—and were underway.
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for the old wharf by Joe in the revivified skiff, with a good wind blowing us “thataway.”
As we moved on, the “Bonne,” which came in during the night, was beating up past the
places and rapidly making her way up the river. Before starting Fred had agreed to go
after letters and George and I thought best not to make any other arrangements but to get
our fish which we needed badly and wait until dinner time to read home news. One we
went and in an hour or perhaps a little more, we loomed up beautifully at the wharf.
There on landing we started over 20 big stingrays from their sandy beds and saw
numerous fish, big and little, shooting out from shore. We left the sail near the spot
where George said you “enjoyed” the mosquitoes on your last trip there—found nary one
this time—and then George poled while I stood upon the new deck pole in hand ready to
strike for appetite and fish. The water was very “cruikly” and full of ripples and my luck
was poor. Fish were plenty but hard to get at. Still I persevered and was gratified finally
with a 4 pound “Jack.” which I hit in the head. Then I tried again and struck another. He
scooted for the wharf post and curled around one so nicely that he tore loose and left the
line and grains entangled among barnacles and oyster shells. In 10 minutes I succeeded
in disentangling it and George tried. He struck a few dozen times and missed, but finally
he got a 4 ½ pound “Jack.” Then as the fish were too thick George wanted to go further
in where he could do better. We went to shore and back and only found one: 8 pound
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red fish to strike at which unfortunately he missed. Then we went first on one side of the
wharf and then on the other and then out again; first George trying his hand at striking
and then I doing my best, but we got nothing. We saw some 8 or 10 big Jew fish—one 5
feet long—but did not dare to tackle them. Still we couldn’t resist tickling them with the
grains to see them jump. Out at our old spot I struck at two large “snooks” and missed.
They were in 6 feet of water and the grains had such a tendency to go just a foot or two
ahead of where I struck at. Then up jumped a school of Jacks. I struck at one I singled
out and missing him, my grains went down to bottom and stuck in a log so jolly fast that I
couldn’t move it. Both George and I pulled this way and that, without result. It was fast
and strong. I got over the edge of the boat and bobbed my head in the water to see how it
was fastened but only got my nose full of water. Then George tried, with same result.
Then somebody said “damn”—but there was no necktie to rip off. Then we moved the
boat off and pulled, only to pull ourselves back to the spot again. Then I took the oar and
dropped it down along the string and pulled and it came up just as easy as if it had not
been caught. I waited for nine fish and lost two. George lost one and finally a hundred
or so of angel fishes rushing by in a school I struck at random and pulled in one weighing
about 2 pounds. Well, we got three
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“Jacks” and one angel fish and then pulled up stakes for home. We got our sail up and
the wind having changed started with a fair wind.
By the way the “Santa Maria” came in while we were fishing and as we started we got a
glimpse of her just disappearing up the river.
Well, we got off with a fair wind and made a few hundred yards when the wind fizzled.
Then half an hour’s calm succeeded. Clouds, heavy and light, were all about us and no
less than four different showers thundered in the distance. Then we had wind from every
quarter by jerks, and then a good pull toward home. Then came another calm and for
variety’s sake a thunder shower. The lightning flashed, the thunder called, wind came
and rain fell. Great heavy drops came first, then increased in number and finally dropped
with a vengeance. One heavy storm passed within half a mile on its way down the bay
and the hissing sound of the falling drops was plainly distinguishable and yet we got no
wetting from it. We were two hours getting back, reaching home at 2 o’c, instead of 12
as we promised—and George found his dinner waiting for him and I found Brenda with
hollow stomach and three children yelling for dinner. We had it duly, I read your letter,
and we all felt better.
We saved the fish for supper and while Brenda was preparing it I managed to get out a
good cartload of little roots in readiness for more potato beds.
This, today, is Anna’s anniversary and I believe Fred’s too. They called on us this
evening and Brenda presented Anna with our first rose—a beauty.
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I have just read your letter over your dated June 11. It makes me feel good, to know you
are all so well at home and look so often toward Florida. I am sorry to hear that you have
lost your appetite and still glad to learn that you yearn for the fleshpots of Florida. I
would be willing to change appetites with you just now. So would any of us for it is quite
a bore to satisfy those we have. We all from the oldest to the youngest—nigs included
particularly—have unusually large ones and it takes so much valuable time to fill the
vacuum made by the various kinds of work we severally do. We can’t get enough. And
it seems too bad sometimes to see how rapidly we cause a vacuum in our stores by filling
the vaccuum [sic] in our diaphragm. We have given up the idea of eating butter this hot
weather—so very unwholesome. And we make no more bread. That is wholesome
enough but—we prefer not to—it takes too much time—besides we haven’t any flour.
We have elegant corn bread instead. Pork slips down greasily, and easily. Salt beef is
our Sunday luxury. Fish on Friday, ditto—when we can get it—and we are going to try
for it every week now. But those fearful appetites of ours consume sweet potatoes,
hominy, and rice without hesitation and in large quantities.
I had no idea you would think so much of my “daily summery” during the hot days. It
seems about as monotonous as the Beecher trial when I read it over. But if you like it
you shall have in extenso, properly and explicitly.
I would have sent to you when George did, but I did not know of the movement. I
always endeavor
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to take advantage of each opportunity as it appears, but sometimes I hear of a chance
when too late.
It is now said that the “Santa Maria” will run regularly between this place and Punta
Rassa, connecting with the schooner “Florida” for Key West. That gives us one more
show, and when I can I’ll send via Pine Level.
The New York debts better be crossed off. Bad Eggs!
Poor “Sunday Frier [?]”—“Died on July of 1875 in her 36th year after a long and painful
illness, this poor old lady.” Lawrence the ----------- and his associates must have sunk
about $12,000 in the old craft. So glad it were not we!
Don’t let Dean come to Florida next year. I’ll write to him one of these days.
Poor Chamberlain. The present is his second wife. He was divorced from the first. He is
certainly having a bad run of luck. No. 2 always seemed a perfect lady, in all her actions
and only being in her company for a month I supposed her a well behaved, ladylike,
lovely little body and the last one in the world to turn out badly. The fruits of Beecher
and Tilton is in!
Brenda has lately felt much better and has had fewer head aches. The rainy season has
seemed to invigorate us all to a certain degree.
I am as hearty as a buck and can do a good days work—when the sun is under the clouds!
But old Sol has a sharp way of telling one to quit work down here when he thinks enough
has been accomplished. If I had a skull as thick as a niggers I believe I could go it better.
I shall not overdo, but
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try to do all I can toward making Florida a more valuable state to the Union than it has
been. And now, I’ll wait until tomorrow.
Punta Gorda Chica Saturday June 26, 1875
Exceedingly warm today. About 92° and plenty of wind from N.E.
Lately I have noticed a peculiarity in the sun. It “shines for all” sides of our house. It
rises in the N.E. goes to the south and sets in the N.W. For instance, take the following
diagram
N.W.#
N.E.#
west A _________________________________________________B east
[Dotted line stretches from N.W.# to N.E.#, dipping below straight line, rather like a
loose jumping rope.]
AB represents a direct line from east to west. The Sun comes up about N.E. works over
and across the line, makes a circumbendilius and after shining on the back of our house,
finally drops down behind De Coster’s instead of going to bed down the bay. Why is this
thus? The moon acts rather wild also. She sometimes rises in the S.E. sometimes E or
then again E by N. It looked quite funny to see the moon coming up back in the woods
the other night.
Key says “the tooth dentist” will be down our way soon now!
Fresh fish for breakfast, bacon for dinner and hominy for supper.
Keep at work all day without much work to show for it. Carted up various loads of earth
for my garden patch and holes. Removed some piles of roots that interfered with my
growing potato beds and puttered and fussed around generally.
Fred still at work preparing for rain. His grass plot is given an inclination from his house
with a ditch like line at the
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outside. It was much needed as a water shed for his house drippings during storms.
Today we have had no rain to speak of, but it has threatened. Without much warning two
fearful crashes of thunder greeted us this afternoon. They resembled the usual sounds we
used to hear in the City Hall Park when Tom Jones or Bill Smith had been elected
Governor.
One year ago today George went to the north.
The baby is much better; quite himself today—and yet no teeth.
By the way it is a sort of ant season with us now. Ants from an inch long down to little
flitting specks, bother us like smoke. They build nests in trunks, carpet bags, bureau
drawers and such places, get into covered dishes into the molasses, sugar and sweet
things and even make an occasional raid on the water pitchers. We eat ants, drink ants—
and damn ants. One sweet little fellow is an inch long black with a yellow saddle and his
after extremities tipped with gold. He seems to be a harmless sort of a critter and
generally keeps clear of the house. Brenda found my carpet bag filled with little half inch
fellows today and she gently chucked the whole concern out of the window.
George went over to De Coster’s. D.C. was at it again. Mrs. D.C. said “Nut was off a
cow huntin’.” He is to hang a white flag up when he gets a piece of beef for us. Then
won’t we go for it?
By last mail I had a letter from Jenkins and another from the dentist. The latter individual
is a fraud. Fred’s teeth were badly fixed and mine ditto. The filling comes out and he
had charged us fearfully. I think what Fred paid him should do for both bills—I’ll divide
with Fred.
And now, How are you off for “goozle”? Fred was asked the other day if he
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liked goozle. Goozle? Goozle? queried Fred “What for goodness sake is goozle?”
The explanation was satisfactory. It is cracker for sweetbreads!
Freddie feels quite “peaked” as Grandma used to say. I think he has worms and Brenda
seems inclined to believe so too.
Punta Gorda Chica. June 27, 1875
A perfect day. Thermometer at 93°, for high, and 80° for low. Delicious breeze from E.
blowing all day. No rain, although heavy storm clouds appeared all about us at different
times after 12 o’c.
Freddie with diarrhea to day. Give him some powders, used when similarly trouble in
Williamsburgh, with good result. He sleeps all afternoon.
Fine day for sketching. Make one sketch of kitchen and bananas in the morning and one
of boathouse and harbor during the afternoon. In both cases sat under my sketching
umbrella in hot sun—ther. from 88° to 93° and felt cool. I didn’t even perspire. What a
country! Copies will be sent before long to Kinder—of all sketches!
Fred cuts my hair this afternoon.
Clear, cool and “mosquitery” as we go to bed at 8.30.
Punta Gorda Chica Monday June 28, 1875
The day opens well with a stiff breeze from the eastward.
Fred commences work on an enclosure about his oranges, George crosses to De Coster:
for beef and I drop down quietly to the poetic work of making a pig=pen. By noon I had
nearly finished my job. George had accomplished trip and Fred had got his enclosure
well underway.
I have just had a roast beef dinner Phip is in the hammock, Brenda is sitting opposite with
the baby, George is up the shore in the skiff and Freddie on
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his bed fretting from effects of his looseness of the bowels. We have tried various things
for our sick youngster but they don’t seem to have as good an effect as we would wish.
Today we were fortunate in getting some beef tea for him and Brenda has made some
drink of burnt rice and we hope he will feel better by and by.
Thunder rolls in the distance, the thermometer marks 93° and the stiff breeze blowing
makes it seems about 70°. It grows blacker in the S. and S.W. and rain may fall. For two
days our usual storms did not come; but I think we will get it today.
Baby seems perfectly well day—and no teeth have come.
As I write, down comes the rain in heavy drops, and fast and furious they fall. The
thunder approaches, and the wind howls. Now there is a lull and now it commences
again. Down it falls. A battle seems to be raging below the lower head. There is one
continual string of thunder peals. The baby lies on the floor and takes a great amount of
pleasure in the sounds of the falling drops. The thunder also seems to please the mite.
And yet while I have been writing it the sun comes out and the shower crosses the river
and gives De Coster a wetting.
Evening. Shortly after I had written the above and while I was holding the baby I heard a
fall on the piazza. On looking out I saw Brenda lying at full length motionless. I rushed
out and picked her up with her hand all bloody. When I had got her in the house I found
that feeling a little faint while washing the dishes she accidentally cut her finger. The
blood gushing out added the finishing stroke and she made her way rapidly to the house
and fell as she came up the piazza steps.
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In a few minutes she was all right but a headache followed that seems to continue.
To add to her pleasure Freddie is troubled with a bad diarrhea. He is now in our bed
having taken some of Dr. Schapps powder and a little burned brandy. If he is not better
in the morning I shall give him some of Fred’s “cholera mixture,” which helped you
when you were so troubled.
So much for the dark side of the picture. Now for something Fred told me today.
“Easter” is responsible for this. Her Mandy came in with some paw-paw fruit today from
the woods. Anna remarked: “How sweetly that smells.” Tenah laughed and said: “Mrs.
Howard did you see a smell-melon?” “A what?” asked Anna. “A smell-melon?” “No,
I’m sure I never did, what is it?” “O, de Lord, never see a smell-melon; why all de ladies
takes ‘em to church up country and day smell so pretty!” Fred is anxious to know now
what a “smell-melon” is!
Freddie is awake, and Brenda already turned in and I’ll follow.
Good night!
Punta Gorda Chica. Tuesday June 29, 1875
Freddie better today—but my turn comes. One of my old blind headaches lifts the top of
my head off at breakfast time and I have an attack of “bile” for the day.
Weather lovely in the morning and showery in the afternoon. In fact quite a heavy
shower fell toward 3 o’c. It served to brighten up everything but me. I was “low down”
all day.
Fred and Anna both gave us a little help during the morning and George came and looked
in at the others.
Made no progress in my work today.
Slept most of the time and ate nothing.
Take 3 pills in this evening and go to bed.
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Punta Gorda Chica Wednesday June 30, 1875
Uneasy lies the stomach that carries Ayers pills. Through by daylight! I calmly
considered life from a new standpoint before daylight this night. The result of my
musings was satisfactory. By breakfast time I was very hollow but felt better afterward.
Fred chopped some wood for me and life moved on smoothly.
Freddie is much better today and gradually improving.
The weather is pleasant, and cool for the “climmat.”
Fred has John Lomonds at work potato hilling. He has John 2 days and then I take John 2
days and John is expected to do much for 2 of us in 4 days. He works well, this John, and
ought to be a retainer of House of Howard. This man can put up more potatoes in a day
than I can in three. It is their natur’ too.
The mill was at work yesterday and today for the first time in weeks.
As the “Bonne” may go out by 11 o’c I have hurried and added the above lines and sealed
my letter—or will—for the purpose of greeting you with some more linked sweetness.
I intended to write to Mother again but shall not be able to this time, as I feel a trifle
dizzy and find it rather bad work to write.
Give my love to her and Brenda’s also. Say that we will both write soon and that we are
enjoying Southern life “bullily”—and it is glorious here when your “bile” don’t get the
best of you.
With this I send a letter to Em.
Tell her to write often.
Ever yrs.
Jarvee.
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Punta Gorda Chica
Charlotte Harbor. Fla July 1. 1875
My dear Pa,
Yesterday my collection of notes, on the “climate and Health of Florida,” went over to
De Coster’s. They are there still, for Mrs. Bonny has not shown her white sails yet above
Coon Key. When you get what I sent I have no doubt you will be satisfied with the
“quantity if not with the quality—of my remarks.” They are jotted down at random
moments, sometimes when in shelter from shower sometimes when the baby is fretful
and I am called to hold him while Brenda does something she can’t put off—and
oftentimes in the evening when “Jaspers work is done” and the bed lies so invitingly open
for the quiet repose of the old mans legs—if I may mention ‘ein. But whenever jolted,
they collect in time to vastness and then they go to you for your careful consideration and
for what you can make of them. It seems to take no time that could be devoted to
anything else and if you can gain any comfort from them I will continue until you cry
“peccary-.” [?]
To return to our discourse: It rains! That is at the present moment 2 o’c P.M. The
thermometer has been low down all day. The last look I gave it it was at 85°. This
morning it was at 80°. We shiver! Just think of it. It was actually chilly this morning.
And when I tried a few potato hills I found the wind was so cool that I was compelled to
go in and get my Cardigan and wear it even while working: The breeze came from N.E.
and that may have accounted for it.
John Lomond put up about 200 feet of hill yesterday for Fred from sunrise until sunset
and expects to repeat the chore today. I got up 50 feet this mg. but was rather weak in the
knees
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from yesterday’s cleaning out process. I feel first rate this afternoon, however. Brenda
has taken a new lease of strength from the cool day, Freddie is able to sit up and is
improving and Phip and baby are as hearty as usual. George seems a little low down, but
the rest of the Punta Gorda Chicians seem to be puckish and healthy.
George brought to the house another batch of chickens yesterday; half black and half
white. His coops arranged along side of the path over to the “other house” look like a
small menagerie—admission free. They can chain up the two nigs for elephants and add
Neuse for a dromedary to make it more complete.
Our usual bright morning was succeeded by the heavy after dinner shower.
Yesterday it was much the same only more so. George and Fred got a ducking and
almost a blow over on the trip to De Costers. A squall struck them when half way over,
coming back, and the skiff after much perilous wrenchings of her ancient timbers reached
land. But Fred and Bags were soaked through.
The “Santa Maria” came down yesterday afternoon and we hear that she will “put up” at
the mill and be fixed over. She is opposite still.
Phip took dinner at Uncle Fred’s today.
He, Phip, has not been in any particular mischief lately.
Punta Gorda Chica, Friday July 2, 1875
It seems today as if the rainy season had really set in, accompanied by enormous
“gallinippers” to add variety to the usual torments of this Italy of America.
John Lomond having “put up”—or made—800 feet of potatoes for Fred, made his dusky
appearance at day light in readiness for an attempt for me. I showed him where
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to commence and at it he went like a good fellow making the dirt grass and roots fly.
Already, 3 o’c, he has put up near 300 feet and is now sheltering from the rain with a
handful of vines ready to put in the ground. He is a brawny specimen of a nig and uses
the heavy hoes with as little exertion as I would a switch. It fairly makes my head ache to
see him yank out the roots. He is about as black as they make ‘em and his beauty is not
skin deep. I can always tell when his line of battle approaches the house—providing the
wind is westerly. He will certainly earn his two dollars with me, as he did, fully, with
Fred. And as usual with all nigs he is a decided character. He is deep in the mystery of
“nigger heads.” “highly yams,“ “West Injes,” “nigger killers” and “Spanish,” besides
many other varieties of taters I can’t remember, and he talks learnedly of their various
qualities. In regard to the rainy season he says: “De rainy season am jes’ abou’ setten in,
de rain will fall pretty lively till tord de latter part of de monfth, den you can’t ride in de
woods, dey will be so rotten. “Bout de fust er August dere will be a letten up and den der
sketers [sic] will go back to de woods agin. But fore dey go dey will be so thick dat you
can’t see your hans fore your face.” Pleasant prospect!
To day, however, seems to bear out Johns idea of the rainy season. The day opened
cloudy and windless. A drizzle made it damp for a few moments and mosquitoes and
gallinippers held high carnival. Such whoppers are these giant mosquitoes and how they
do bite! Then the air was coolish and not so pleasant as it usually is in the morning.
Then toward 9 o’c the sun came out and the mercury went gradually
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up about 10° and rested about noon. A fine breeze blowing meanwhile. Our usual
weather was their giving us a greeting. We had dinner and gradually a misty rain began
to creep around us and finally settle over us and it became extremely wet out of doors.
Everything was hidden from us at any great distance and the rain increased in power and
size of drops fairly deluging us. But this time the rain, which is still falling, is
unaccompanied with thunder or lightning and it was ushered in with very little wind. The
tide in the bay is high, but not enough to get into the heads—nor has it yet been this
season. Outside the prospect is uninviting. Rain, mosquitos, and gallinippers make it
anything but lovely. Within doors, we are dry and not worried with pests, except it may a
few house flies. The giant flies have all disappeared and even those of a larger build than
the ordinary fly are few and far between. Frogs of all colors and kinds, grasshoppers
occasionally, tumble bugs in quantity, and red, blue, green and yellow dragon flies, with
smaller insects inhabit the lower life of Florida still—and the sand-fly (that great
drawback to comfort in Florida) is a non est inventicus—just now. To be sure we have
ants, cockroaches and sich [sic] like game but we don’t count them! Brenda and I have
discovered a very handy way of collecting ants just any size we wish. If we want big
ones we arrange a covered cup, molasses jug, or other utensil with a large hole; if
medium sized ant, a medium sized hole and if it our desire to obtain wee ants we leave
the smallest possible hole. Our taste in ants is therefore always varied and graduated
sizes, give us well variety in flavor. And again, by extra
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care we can do away with the ant family entirely.
The “Bonne” has not yet appeared why, we cannot imagine, as her load was ready last
Sunday.
I have just been out in the rain with John and together we have put in about 200 vines—
which he says is good for 9 or 10 bushels of “West Injes.”
The chickens are increasing so rapidly that Fred had to put a new wing on the hen house.
He has been at it all the morning.
J.C. has passed his morning helping John and finishing the pig pen.
Sometime ago I replanted the two hills on the shore with potato vines but only one vine
“came.” I waited until 8 or 10 days ago, when they were thoroughly soaked and tried
again. On looking today I find all the vines growing as thrifty and rank as can be. It only
shows that hills can be put up at any time, if properly hilled and the vines can be planted
in the rainy season. Whether they will show as many potatoes as the other way time will
show. As it is it makes a nice experiment for us all.
Everything grows in this wet weather especially grass and weeds. I found some “spears”
of grass 7 feet high—but only ½ a doz. “Bunch” grass crops up luxuriously and very
rank swelling weeds are collecting among Fred’s potato beds.
Evening.—About sunset tonight the “Bonne” came down with a load of cattle and she is
now I believe on her way to Key West with our letters. A boat was seen to put out and
she was heading down bay as darkness gathered round.
The frogs are setting up a terrible hullabaloo up to the upper head. Crickets
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“twitter bugs” are disturbing the stillness and one old hoot owl is making night hideous in
the distance. A few mosquitoes have managed to get in during the day and as I sit
beneath the “Argand”—or rather student lamp writing their dulcet tones pipe a miniature
concert to the orchestral accompaniment outside.
Brenda has gone once to call on Anna and all the babies are fast asleep. Ben heard that
Anna had found a new way to make corn bread and she is anxious to know, you know.
This one is without eggs, milk, or flour. In time she will be able, from her collection, to
edit a cook-book on an entirely new principle –
But Ben has returned and she and I must go to bed.—Good night!
Punta Gorda Chica—Saturday July 3, 1875.
As I have frequently said before it rains! And it is 2 o’c P.M. as I say so.
This morning we had a repetition of our usual delightful mornings. The weather was
pleasant—the sky not exactly cloudless but covered with what are known as trade wind
clouds. The sun and a clear field through which to shoot forth rays, and a most delicious
breeze was blowing most of the time.
The usual afternoon storms is now on hand and nature looks exceedingly damp, moist
and unpleasant.
John Lomond is hard at work on his 800th foot of potato hilling and prefers working in
the rain to pursuing the same gentle exercise in fair weather surrounded by gallinippers
and mosquitoes.
By this evening I expect he will have “put up” between 900 and 1000 feet of hills and
planted them in vines for the potatoes to follow. These potatoes are all “West Injes” and
will “make” fully by the time you come down.
The chances are also that I will
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have some ripe bananas to give you by that time as my trees are doing remarkable well.
The leaves are strong, healthy and plenty coming rapidly one after the other and as the
increase in size—being nearly four feet long as they come forth—the trunks become
rotund and tree like. Numerous little shoots are now cropping up through the grass and
chips that surround them and I am thinking of starting a new patch on a low part of my
estate and see what nature will do if let alone. Still I may not. My principal object now
is to get in all the potatoes I can. I suppose I have now, perhaps 1500 feet of hills and
they ought to yield about 3 bushels to the 100 feet. But Fred thinks if I get 2 bushels I
will be doing as well as he is. All the vines take as soon as planted and the white hills are
already topped with green and looking well.
The little 100 orange trees are increasing rapidly. Several are 5 inches high, and putting
forth new leaves every day.
Today I enriched and dug once a spot between the kitchen and the house containing about
600 square feet, which I expect to double and try to prepare for a strawberry bed—or
something that may need rich soil.
By the time I expect to plant, however, next year I shall have the used up potato beds for
extra purposes of agriculture.
During this month I shall set out a number of orange, lemon, and lime trees and a few
guavas, anything else that may come to the surface.
Tomorrow Mr. De Coster will go to Pine Level and I am preparing a few letters to go by
him, this among the number.
If you are sending down anything to Charlotte Harbor—could you manage to
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to put in half a dozen packages of Bakers brahma. It seems to be a necessity for Brenda
in order to furnish the mite with sufficient milk. A package lasts a week, and Ben has
only 1 left. Supposing she had three boxes of it, she was a trifle more liberal in having it
occasionally all round instead of coffee for lunch. Finding the two other boxes were
starch she shut down on this sort of thing and it is now kept entirely for baby.
Freddie, I am glad to say, is convalescing rapidly. He has a good appetite and feels first
rate.
Phip is well.
Brenda also, feels quite well and has for the past few days. We are all looking for a
change when cooler weather comes. Could we sit still and enjoy the delights of Florida
at this season it would be very pleasant, but with all kinds of work to attend to cooler
weather would be preferable. So far as I, myself, am concerned I seem to be able to stand
it hot or cold and only the little billious attack I had the other day has been my drawback
so far.
Fred and Anna expect to lose Easter and family tonight. Jarve and Bains is at the bottom
of the trouble I believe. Up to the present time Easter has been willing to take medicine
and doctoring in pay for her services, but now she has conceived the idea of wishing to be
paid for her work. Of course, Fred says, that won’t do and they will go.
Give my love to all and look out for some sketches soon.
Ever yours
Jarvis.
P.S. George has just brought me two letters from Kinderhook (via Pine Level) one from
Ma dated May 13. and one from Em dated June 3. What they were doing up there I can’t
imagine.
[Pages 72-76 out of place in photocopied material.]
Page 72
Punta Gorda Chica
Charlotte Harbor, Fla.
July 4, 1875
My dear Pa,
I am now about to commence where I left off, and on the 99th anniversary of our glorious
independence etc. etc. drop you these few lines. Hurrah for 4th of July! For the first time
in many years I shall get through the day without hearing a pop of any kind. What a
blessed relief. Perfect freedom—from crackers and such like nonsense—is the kind of
independence I go in for. The day is a lovely one and not too warm. A splendid breeze is
blowing and we celebrate the national birthday by keeping in the house and undergoing
rest and quiet.
Our black Hercules got through his work yesterday and departed for his home up country.
My place looks quite potatery now. How I wish we could afford to keep such a worker
on all the time! But it will come one of these days I hope.
His family concluded at the last moment to “stop a little long” with Fred. Especially as
said family had no other place to go to. John therefore went off alone and “Easter” can
be kept by Fred every day for some time to come.
Only one small shower visited us to day and lasted about 10 minutes. The mercury
touched 92° but it was not too warm.
[Words surround a drawing of a black man with a hoe, labeled John Lomond. Esq.]
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Freddie has so far recovered that he made a call on Aunty Anna today. So did Phip—and
so did I. At one time I found them all Fred, George, and Anna undergoing the bobbing
process. We are now all of us looking like a small colony of prize fighters. While over
there I tried to get a chance to sketch “Easter.” She was as wary as a 2 pound trout and
evidently knew what I was about. But here she is as near as I could get her. Her chief
diet is Castor oil and Fred expects to buy it hereafter by the gallon and feed his faithful
dependents with it as old Squeers did treacle to the boys at Dotheboys Hall. Easter’s
latest was—after the going away trouble was settled: “Mr. Howard, if you aint mad with
me, will you give me a little castor oil!” She doesn’t look much like starched and
trimmed Mary, does she? She hasn’t had a dying fit for some time, but perhaps she is
only awaiting a good oppertunity [sic]. Her husband, John Lomond is as stout and hearty
as she is lean and scraggy. I find that his peculiarity (particular one) is to wear his hat a
different way on each potato hill. When he strikes a new line he changes his shape of hat.
And it is astonishing how many different ways and shapes he could put it in.
Punta Gorda Chica Monday July 5, 1875
As usual it rains. And it drops down in a very lively mood. Time 3 o’c P.M. Just
opposite the house, the Charry M., which came into view while we were at dinner, is
aground on the bar and she appears and disappears as the showers
[Words surround a drawing of a black woman with a head scarf and long dress and
apron, carrying a tray with tea dishes, labeled “Easter.”]
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are heavy or lighter. George has just made his way out there in the white, but that was
before the shower got fierce. What news he brought back I will find out later.
This morning I crossed the southern Rubicon at sunrise, and brought back Tenah, Wash
and the piccaninny for a day’s washing. They are all at it and the lines are being hung
with washed clothes which only in Florida would Brenda call clean. The rainy season
has colored my well a beautiful wine color and now instead of Wash drawing water with
his teeth from the well back of the kitchen he has to “tote” it from Fred’s pump.
Generally we manage to catch enough water for our usual purposes but wash day makes
too much inroad into our supply. So Wash carries the pail over and back on his head and
offers himself as a picturesque figure in the landscape.
This morning after I had established the blackies I went to work potato hilling. I put in
about 60 vines and then the deluge came. It is letting up and I may have a chance to try
again, before long.
Fred has now finished his watershed around his house and the rain instead of settling
gradually soaks away. And it is a good thing for the deacon’s residence. One can walk
dryshod about his house now. It don’t seem to trouble my shanty in the same way.
I counted 108 orange trees in my little nursery yesterday.
Evening.—The sun has gone down grandly and the eastern sky is clear, while the western
teems with heavy clouds of the thunder and lightning order. The washing is done for
today and Tenah hints that she don’t think she can come again. George and I
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will soon take her and family over to the other side.
The “Charry M.” has concluded to anchor off our place, while the new captain goes up to
Ogden and back. Then he will go to Key West and take letters for us. He says that he
left Key West last Friday, stopping at Fort Meyers on the Caloosahatch’ before coming
here. As he goes back he will leave letters at “Pinta Ross” for the schooner to Key West
to take and if there is no schooner, will take it or them himself. He says that yellow fever
was quite prevalent there when he left and that’s 5 or 6 funerals a day were taking place.
The doctors, he says were trying to keep the matter quiet and no one outside of them
seemed to know much about it. He also says that Capt Yant’s boat the “Florida” will be
here for cattle this week and the Santa Maria is to bring the cattle down from up river.
Another chance to send letters.
Potato hilling was a fizzle this afternoon. I managed to “list” up a hundred feet,
preparatory to making up, and then was forced to give up. The gallinippers came down
on me like a thousand of brick. I thought I had broken out in a pair of fur pants they were
so thick on amy legs. I never saw anything to equal it. I really think if anyone should
sleep out on our shore tonight that person would be tormented into fits—if not devoured
alive—before morning. With this letter I’ll try to send you a few samples of the critter.
It is only in calm weather that the imp makes himself heard and felt.
Punta Gorda Chica Tuesday July 6, 1875
Last evening George and I pulled the family of Tenah and Co. across, stopped in at De
Costers
Page 76
long enough to get a glass of milk and learn that “Nat” was still at Pine Level and then
rowed back. The pesky gallinippers made a flank movement on us as we arrived and
almost cut off our (r)ears.
On the passage across I arranged with Tenah to do our washing across the river every
other week. She will get her pay at the rate of $1.50 for the days washing and run it into
two days if she wishes. When she came over I paid her $1. for her days work and she
generally managed to clean up about 6 or 7 dozen. So far I have been able to pay her in
beef, pork, bacon and corn. I hope she will keep up the same kind of an arrangement.
To day we have one of nature’s best rainy season days. It is now about tea time and only
a small shower of 10 minutes duration has dropped its dew over us. From early morning
the wind from N.E. has been blowing briskly and white caps on the bay have been visable
[sic] all day. The trees roar with wind rushing through them and everything looks fresh
and lovely out of doors. The thermometer is up in the nineties yet without a look at the
little instrument we would imagine it to be about 78° or 80°.
The “Charry M.” is still opposite and the “Santa Maria” having had her bottom scraped
on De Coster’s beach has gone up the river to engage a load of cattle for the Florida soon
to arrive.
George has taken the skiff and gone over with my gun, to the other side for some game.
Today all our family are well, and exceedingly puckish.
Quail are beginning to flock again and run about the house like chicken.
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In a day or two I shall try to trap some. They are splendid eating and are known
hereabouts as “partridges.” White cranes and blue goldings are quite plenty along shore.
A crane (white) alighted among our white clothes yesterday and begin to clean up his
plumes. Good example, no!
It was such a good day for potatoes that I started my up and down hoe moving early. So
far I have made up 140 feet of hills, but it was tougher work than usual. I have got over
the spot where I cleared out roots and made my hills this among those I had not tackled.
There was a perfect network of pawpaw, oak and others. The grubbing hoe had to do
most of the work and the hinge in my back has got rather stiff and needs a little greasing.
Fred I have noticed with hoe in hand hunting for his orange trees in the high grass. Such
weeds and grass as spring up about his trees would astonish you. Fred thinks it was
weeds more than water that choked his trees last year. Water certainly has not harmed
them yet.
Yesterday I saw a ten foot snake go into the hole you watched so faithfully. I struck at
him with the hoe and made him a foot shorter. He looked exactly like a copperhead and
was the longest snake I have seen here yet. Tenah said he was a “gopher” snake. I have
watched for him since but he is undoubtedly nursing his narrative and can’t come out.
There must be two or three other snakes with tales shortened in the same hole. But the
big one is the first I have seen for a long while.
A few nights ago Fred “dropped” “Maitley” between here and De Costers. Neuse still
steals chicken feed. And
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anything else he can get hold of. He is a miserable hound in every sense of the word, but
a good watch dog. He won’t even stop still long enough for me to sketch him.
De Coster went to Pine Level Sunday and took July with him for the purpose of bringing
back a yoke of oxen.
The mill has been running quite regularly of late. But no vessel has taken away any
lumber. And what is done with it I can’t imagine.
Punta Gorda Chica Wednesday July 7, 1875
De Coster came back from Pine Level last night and brought us some tobacco. We learn
from him that
“Natty, he belongs to the mill
and the mill belongs to Natty still.
For Natty he belongs to the mill
And the mill belongs to Natty.”
In fact De Coster has bought the mill and is running it now. Old Curry is engineer and
little birds do say that Philbrick and the Key West Collector furnish Natty with means to
pay down $2500 for the mill. The whistle at sundown sounds quite civilized.
Fred, Anna and George called on us last evening. Bags was accompanied by his banjo.
The “Charry M” left at daylight this morning. As I had only three days note I concluded
to wait for the Florida and perhaps won’t lose much time anyway.
More potatoes to day, but only about 80 feet. In addition I put in a hundred and twenty
vines and “listed” about a hundred and 60 feet, as preparatory to more hilling.
Weather to day warm as usual temperature about 92° or 93°, but a stiff breeze has been
blowing all day. Only one pretty brisk shower
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toward supper time. Mosquitoes not visable [sic]—nor gallnippers—until after dark.
Then they swarmed.
Freddie thoroughly well but looking pale. Baby ditto. Phip part ditto—rest brown. This
latter mite is still fat and hearty and calls for “more pork” and “white-tea” as natural as
ever.
Fred has found his orange trees, transplanted quite a number made his water shed
improvements and now he and George talk of going at potatoes.
One of Fred’s “bayonets” on the beach is in blossom and looks extremely tropical.
George has eight more chickens and tomorrow will add another cage to his menagerie.
Punta Gorda Chica Thursday July 8, 1875
With little Harry on my lap I sit down to write up the day, while Brenda, Phip and
Freddie are washing the dishes over to the kitchen. The thunder is rolling in the distance
and the sun shining brightly. Heavy black clouds are in the west but they don’t obscure
the sun because our sun don’t set there. A new schooner, as white as a bride’s new
bonnet is trying to find the channel above Coon Key and the baby is mauling me all over.
That is the picture at 7 o’c this evening.
This new schooner comes from above. When she gets here I shall know more about her.
Our usual temperature and the usual breeze have greeted us to day. It has been pleasant
Page 80
weather for anything. The mosquitos have not worried us and we have been able to get
about our various duties comfortably.
I first put up an eight hole trap for quail. Then I went to hole digging for trees. Besides I
did a little work of various kinds that hardly counted for anything. I felt tired and did
lazy work for rest.
George and Fred expect to go fishing to morrow. They went over to the mill creek for
bait but got none. George previously made a bait box—for live bait—and they were
disappointed.
Burned up a lot of roots today. They make excellent saltpeter and ashes for my orange
holes.
Bed time—A heavy thunder shower with oceans of water has just brought us a second
deluge for an hour. It has saturated terra firma nicely.
The new schooner disappeared in the squall. She was about 9 tons.
And now as I drop in the moon is shining brightly and the air is cool and pleasant.
Mosquitoes outside are lively as chickens; inside, not any.
Punta Gorda Chica Friday July 9, 1875 Another lovely day with a lovely breeze. Just as
fine as they make ‘em. Warm of course, but not seeming near as warm as at the north.
Besides in working as late as 12 o’c I never find the sun affect me as it used to at
Southold or in the walk over from Kinderhook to the house.
We have had no rain up to 5 o’c, the present moment, but it is only a short distance off
and will furnish
Page 81
roof music while we are at supper. And it looks like a “buster.”
100 feet of potato hill was the extent of my run today. The roots are more trouble to get
out than the mere banking up and I find I can’t do as much as I could where I had
previously cleared roots out. But they come!
Fred and George went fishing today. It was too windy and they only got one “Jack” and
two “angel fish.” They had to pole all the way back from the old wharf. If we ever have
anymore calm weather I think I can rake in a few along shore. Red fish trout and
“snook” are running by constantly.
A “game leg” today interfered with my labors pretty muchly. The usual Florida sore
from a scratched mosquito bite was all—but enough to bother.
Punta Gorda Chica Saturday July 10, 1875
Another day similar to those that have gone before. We got no rain last night nor yet
today (noon). It is more sultry to day than I have yet felt it. Perhaps because my “sore
leg” pains me so and I am unable to get up a penchant.
This afternoon George and I will go over for the Bonny’s letter as that schooner is below
and coming up. I shall leave this much of my notes to go by any chance goes and begin
again tomorrow.
In the meantime we will plod on and enjoy as much as we can and put in a large “lick” of
agri and horticulture as circumstances will permit and try to live as well as the climate
will permit let us.
With love to all at home I am
As ever.
Yours
Jarvee G.A.G.
[Pages 82-85 missing]
Page 86 [?]
sunlight, still it stunk. Instead of food for family use I fed it to the bananas. These trees
will take anything of the kind and the more the better for them. Thus bad meat “stinking”
fish and muck and truck will in time—I hope—be transmited [sic] into lady finger and fig
bananas. And when they do—if they do—may you be there to partake of their
lusciousness.
As I am putting down my notes Freddie rushes in with “Popa, the “Bonne” is coming!”
“Where away my lad?” “Just above Coon Key.” “All right.”—I have gone and eaten my
corn cake and rice pudding and washed it down with two cups of tea. The “Bonne” is
rounding the Key above and I have sent Freddie over to Uncle Freds to see if any one will
board her as she comes. I might even be tempted to do so with my game leg.
Still I cannot imagine how she can have loaded besides unloaded since daylight this
morning and got down here again. She may “stop a leetle” and load with lumber.
The “Santa Maria” has “histed sail” and is preparing to take her lumber to “Pinta =Ross.”
She and the “Bonne” can keep company.
Freddie is just back and yelling out 50 feet away from the house. “Get your letters
ready!” “Get your letters ready!” In he comes. “Papa, Uncle Fred will board the Bonny;
get your letters ready.”
I guess I’ll try and board the boat with him.
So far today we have had little rain. A slight shower this afternoon only. Warm and
breezy. Ther. still in the nineties..
Page 87 [?]
The sketch on the first page is a duplicate of the one I took last Sunday week. It will
show you the boat house, the wharf—Fred’s new one—and the “cabbage” on the shore.
In the distance the “Bonny”—or any other boat you wish—is coming from Key West and
doubtless has letters from home. How does it strike you for view?
I intended to send a letter to Ma by the “Bonne” and her early arrival shuts off my steam.
She is almost here and I must close.
So Good bye
from Your Son.
Jarvee G.A.G.
Page 88
Punta Gorda Chica
Charlotte Harbor, Fla.
July 13, 1875
My dear Pa,
Again, revignon a nos moutons; The last batch has gone—the present batch is being
commenced and like the auctioneer’s article will be “going, going” until the “Bonne”
comes back from up the river and then it will be knocked down to Key West and “gone.”
Mrs “Bonne” gave us a false alarm last evening. Instead of going to Key West she only
came down for lumber and will go back to Fort Ogden for a load of cattle returning in a
few days. The “Sainted Maria” will—so the captain says—leave for “Pintaross” this
evening and take what letters we have ready. She will bring us back, we hope, quite a
batch of home productions.
To day we have fair weather and no rain. Plenty of breeze and a fresh feeling in the air.
It is only 5 o’c as I write, and we may have a little wet weather yet, but so far the day has
been “perfectly lovely.” Freddie has felt well Phip hearty, and the baby, as Phip says:
“Good, pie.” Brenda’s back bone was stiffer than usual and everything moved along
swimmingly—except the boil on the calf of my leg. It is in such an awkward place that I
can hardly get about with it, but it “draws to a head” and then having rested so well I feel
that I can make up for lost time.
As it is I can be of great use to Brenda, but it makes me feel miserable not to be able to
take advantage of such splendid planting weather.
The mosquitoes were not so bothersome last night as the night before. Only a few got in
the house before sundown and a northerly breeze at dusk drove
Page 89
them back to the woods. We therefore slept comfortable, and take our corn and bacon
with an increased relish today.
George went over to De Costers in the skiff just before dinner and brought the news of
“Bonne” and “Santa Maria.” He steers with a paddle he made himself.
Fred and Anna both have been setting out stakes for oranges and oranges=themselves.
Now is the time, if ever strawberries today and a tomato or two. A few green peas would
go handy, as a topper off. I suppose they still flourish at Elmlawn.
Don’t forget to save me some tomato seeds and also some strawberry slips. I think I can
start these [?] latter nicely, when they come. Save me any other seeds that you think I
could make useful.
Fred has named his shanty “Gallinipper Lodge” and I mine “Bald Head Villa.” The fist
name is easily accounted for. The second is a cast on Brenda’s cranium which I shaved
on top yesterday. She now looks like one of the Franciscan Friars. Still, she is only a
Punta Gorda Chica fryer!
Pease Creek is to have a steam boat! It is built and waiting for a freshet to float it down.
It sounds big, this steamboat business, but said steamboat is about 2 cow power and is
merely an engine and paddle which’s attached to a large sized skiff. And why such, I
hear you ask. According to the laws of Florida any parties who will open Peace Creek to
navigation as far as Fort Taylor (180 miles) will be entitled to every other quarter section
on the river in payment for such a boon to the state. To properly open the creek it should
be dredged and dug out—an almost impossible and expensive job. The steamboat has
been prepared to overcome
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the trouble and by a little Tweedism to obtain possession of so much at so little outlay.
The origination of this scheme therefore will, when the river is high run their “steamboat”
down to De Coster’s and then up as far as Fort Taylor and having done so make
application for the land on the basis of navigation on the river being open. It is a nicely
gotten up speculation and may work. De Coster, I think, is in it, and is backed by certain
Key Westers. At least Fred and I suppose so. We are looking for the “steamboat” with
great anxiety and shall be glad to see how the little game eventuates.
Some time ago Fred received from De Coster a dozen small pineapple shoots. He planted
them down in front, and this evening he tells me they some of them are growing and
putting forth new leaves. Will you take some pineapple, next winter, in yours?
George has now 28 young chickens and he expects another batch on Friday. There are
only 3 hens laying and they do their duty. The product of their joint exertions yesterday
was 4 eggs. Either our hen laid two eggs—or the old cock himself is responsible for No.
4.
Punta Gorda Chica Wednesday July 14, 1875
Last evening Fred and Anna were over, to get away from mosquitoes and make us a call.
None were in the house and we slept comfortably.
Today is the counterpart of yesterday up to noon—the present. Clear and not unusually
warm with a delightful breeze. Lately at this time of day the mercury has seldom
registered below 90° and never above 93°. There is less sunshine now and the clouds
seem to be “bunching up.” The prospect is we may have rain. Yesterday we had none.
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Our ----- today is varied by a piece of a 10 pound red fish that George caught between
Fred’s two wharves, and only 20 feet from shore just after breakfast.
And I am now called to partake of it.
2o’c P.M.—The breeze is stronger and a shower is evidently approaching from the
eastward. I have just hobbled over to Fred’s and cut about 50 vines and planted them to
catch the shower. My game leg is throbbing and it hurts. But all my hills are planted. I
have now, about as near as I can calculate, 2200 feet of sweet potatoes. If they yield at
all up to time I shall be able to live on half and send the rest to market. And I [have]
several weeks yet remaining in which to increase my stock. The vines already planted
are over a foot long and growing nicely. Some are 2 feet.
Last night I set out a guava tree back of the store house. I have three holes more ready
for lemons. And when my leg gives me a chance I shall put out about 15 year old lemons
and about 50 other trees. It will make the place look civilized. Everything I plant seems
to prosper. I only wish I had some of Fred’s improved ground to practise on.
Phip has just gone to hammock and is sleeping soundly and quietly, with immense beads
of perspiration covering his face. The baby is fretting on the floor at my feet and, if
you’ll excuse me, I’ll get him to sleep: Au revoir!
Tea Time—5 o’c PM. Brenda is cooking a fish—or the remains of what we not used for
dinner. Since dinner I have managed to grind 2 qts of corn at Freds mill and to take a
jolly sail with George. The old skiff behaved splendidly.
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Thermometer 91° as we took the boat and left shore. Should take it for 75°. The breeze
was a strong one from W.S.W. We beat against it nearly to Tuckers and came back with
the wind aft. It set me up finely. The prospective shower did not turn up which
threatened at 2 o’c. And this is the “rainy” season; no rain for over two days.
Evening. Ben has gone over to Fred’s to make a call. The chickens are all abed and I am
holding the baby who seems fretful and feverish.
We have had no rain today.
The “Santa Maria” went out this morning, stuck on the bar until afternoon and finally
disappeared around the Punta Gorda.
The “Bonne” took her lumber up yesterday afternoon. She will be down about Thursday
or Friday.
Punta Gorda Chica Thursday July 15, 1875
More fine weather. Give me the rainy season in preference to winter—that is, and leave
mosquitoes out. It is certainly more enjoyable, these pests not considered.
Last night was not a pleasant one for Brenda and me. The baby was sick all night and
Brenda was awake most of the time trying to sooth [sic] him. I can’t think of anything
else but teeth being the matter. He was feverish and had a constant desire to “throw up.”
This morning the same symptoms continue. The little fellow is pale and his passages not
good. I hope my supposition as to the cause is correct. The little mite is 9 mos old and
has ‘n’t the sign of a tooth yet.
Fred is getting quite an orchard set out at the back of his house. He has a dozen already
and expects to set out
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lemon trees, of one years growth.
George almost got another fish this morning early. But he didn’t quite do it.
Evening. Only one slight shower—a species of scotch mist—(in Cracker dialect a “fog”)
visited us today about noon. It dampened leaves and potato vines but did’n’t sink into the
earth very far.
Tried a little “listing” this afternoon but the leg tired me too soon. Changed to other
work, but had to give up. Rushed for a chair to sit down quietly and trim up some
palmetto roots for the stove. As I take it down from the piazza I slip and the chair
follows rapidly. Sufficiently so, however, for the leg of it to make a lightning stroke
fairly on my boil. Did I holler yell and “screech? You bet!
This palmetto root dodge is a new one introduced by “Easter.” It answers well. I
improve on her plan by shaving off the loose portion with a hatchet and leaving the solid
wood for the fire. It takes no longer than to chop wood. Besides what is peeled off the
roots is the finest stuff in the plantation to use as manure—and to encirculate orange trees
with.
The water in my well is 6 feet deep and within 2 ½ feet of the surface. It can’t be used it
so discolors everything and for cooking purposes it is nix.
One of the most gorgeous sunsets imaginable is now in progress. Brenda is gazing at it
and going into raptures.
Baby has felt better all day but seems sick again to night.
Fred almost stepped on an alligator in front of his house lying on the beach.
Jarve Bains and July have just come over with some bear meat
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as a present and July has “borrowed” some salt. The bear was shot just by July’s house.
J.B. can’t use his lame arm yet. The whole matter seemed so suspicious to the deacon
that we all concluded we had no desire to take the chance of being poisoned. We
therefore will not try any bear meat tomorrow. A nigger who will allow himself to be
hired to kill a white man would just as soon poison another he has a grudge against. Still,
we may be over particular.
Ben took a nap on the front piazza of an hour and felt much better after it. It made up for
much loss of sleep last night.
The moon is shining brightly as I turn in and the festive mosquito is tooting merrily.
Punta Gorda Chica Friday July 16, 1875
A sunrise similar to last nights sunset, gorgeous and golden, ushered in this day. Calm
weather lasted until almost noon. What breeze there was came from the N.W. –but of
very slight texture. Hazy clouds collected in the W. and N.W. about 11 o’c. Mosquitoes
moved about eager for blood. The sun cast his heated rays down with force and the
grasshoppers—that hopped off the “sweeteater vine”—chirped wildly. These dense
clouds grew denser and rolled up in heavy masses as noon approached; the bay looked
like a vast mirror and the opposite shore came a mile nearer and repeated itself upside
down in the water. Suddenly the opposite shore grew vapory and disappeared, and
rushing across the mirror came the storm. White caps mist and rain drops were soon all
that remained—and then the rain fell about us, but not so very rapidly
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after all. 20 minutes of rain drops and the storm passed, leaving queer masses of grey
and white clouds just above the horizon—some rolling heavenward in immense bunches
and as the thunder which all the time has been in the distance, is rapidly growing fainter,
the white caps disappear and the bay of Punta Gorda Chica drops gradually back to its
mirror-like appearance. Before this is fully accomplished the breeze freshens, the surface
of the bay is further disturbed and while the white caps again appear, the refreshing
breeze settles into a stiff one and continues. It is now 3 o’c P.M. and it as much as I can
do to keep my papers about me as I write. I have just put our sick baby to sleep in the
hammock and Brown Phip is taking off his shoes preparatory to occupying a portion of
the same berth. Lately I have had the hammock hung indoors from the beams overhead.
As Fred say: it makes my house, all in one room, with mosquito nettings beams, rafters,
shingles and bare boards look like some East Indian bungalow.
The sun is shining brightly and the outside look is a fresh one. There are thunder
mutterings still up the river and there may be more rain before dark.
4 o’c the “Bonne” appears coming down and I will try to get this on board.
No more rain today. Clear again.
With love to all
Ever yours
Jarvee G.A.G.
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Punta Gorda Chica
Charlotte Harbor Fla.
Saturday July 17, 1875
My dear Pa,
Last evening the “Bonne” came and went and my few days notes did not go with her.
The wind was blowing rather briskly and the “Bonne” was loaded with cattle. In that
condition she would not “luff” and so as we could not board her safely we thought we
would just “luff ‘em.” So I have a letter on hand for you which I will drop at De Costers
and let it go by first opportunity.
Fred and I last evening planted some lemon trees on my place. It was fearful work. The
sand flies at last came around and made a short call—and they brought all their friends
and their friends friends. They came by millions—a la De Coster—and they occupied
reserved seats on nose, eyes, ears, mouth and other locations. In fact they came so
thickly that it felt as if some one was throwing dry sand in our faces. But we planted two
trees, and after Fred went home, the flies took themselves off. I felt no more while
watering up.
This morning George and I took a turn as far as the “head” for fish. We missed some fair
sized ones, the water grew “crinkly” and we came in. As we did so we noticed the
“Bonne” just below Punta Gorda, making slow progress toward Boca Grande.
Planted and hilled about 60 feet of potatoes today. Started with a poultice on the boil on
my calf—found it afterward on my heel. The heel is doing well! So is the boil.
Thermometer 92° again to day.
Fine breeze during afternoon, and latter part of morning.
Fred, Anna and George tussle nightly with
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Miss Squeeto, and Mrs. Mosquito. Fred Anna and George get the worst of it. “We-uns,”
at Bald Head Villa manage to do a little fight with them but our house being smaller
don’t hold so many as Fred’s! Fred and Anna say they haven’t slept for a week, without
getting wakeful spots every 15 minutes of half an hours duration.
These torments are plenty indeed now; about as thick after dark as anyone would wish to
find them. Ben and I and the mites go to bed and get rid of them. Only once in a while
we will find a few stowaways after we get well abed, and off for the port of dreamland.
July and Keys skiff came over this afternoon—perhaps to see who “Kerflum-muxed”—
from eating Jaime Bains bear meat.
A crimson sunset, with crimson reflections and silver ripples in the bay was our picture
tonight. Beutiful!
George took the gun and went hunting about tea time—with his usual luck. He saw a big
buck—the largest he ever saw in his life! But he didn’t shoot him! I wish he would
bring that buck in.
Punta Gorda Chica, Sunday July 18, 1875
How the weeks roll round. Another commences gloriously with plenty of sunshine,
plenty of breeze, plenty of warm weather and plenty of rest for the weary.
Sunrise was glorious. The breeze came in with the sun. Then it slacked off a little and
brought up on another tack. Then came clouds, — “trade winders” — but no rain
followed. For a rainy season matters of a damp nature are getting played out. The
ground is getting dry again, and Fred and I have recourse to the watering these
mosquitery evenings. Fun alive—but it makes us nimble.
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Washed up the mites and had dinner at 2 o’c then sent Fred and Phil to Uncle Fred’s,
counted out clothes packed them in bags, took them over to the white boat, cut both boys
hairs, dressed the baby—not I, but Brenda, get ready and off we Ben baby and I went
with our dirty clothes to call on De Coster. We had a warm passage over with very little
breeze. The thermometer marked a peg higher reaching 93° and it was as warm as warm
could be.
We passed most of the afternoon at De Costers. Natty showed us his lively growing trees
and told us how he had bought the mill and was fixing it over. He also said that Curry
was up at Lettuce Lake building a house for Addison.
We reached P.G.C. at 7 o’c. Hunted around the kitchen for something to eat. Nobody
invited us to tea! I made tea, warmed over some maccaroni [sic], eat some cold hominy
and molasses and lit my pipe. Darkness set in. The moon came up. I in the midst of
mosquitoes dressed my “bile,” then watered trees, visited Fred’s pump for a pail of water
and collected some “kindlin’s” for the morrow and having done all this I prepare to
undress amid the hum of a thousand or two mosquitoes and to turn in where a stray one
or two I expect will toot their shrill yet mellow hours ‘till daylight doth appear.
Punta Gorda Chica Monday July 19, 1875
Almost another rainless day. A rainy season without rain is—or would be—a rather
curious anomaly.
Extremely warm all day and breezes slight.
The hardest working day yet. Almost impossible to stand the sun rays and exert oneself
to any great extent. During the day I managed to only get up 50 feet of potato hills
besides my other “chores.” Thermometer 95° at 3 o’c.
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Mosquitos last night were “cloudy.” They sang in concert early in the evening and
presented their “little bills” before the performance was over. Their tones are shriller
than usual of late and when a couple of thousand of these minute sopranos strike the
upper C it brings down the house with a “d – m, the mosquitoes.” The sand flies don’t
come into my shanty although they give Fred a midnight call occasionally. Those that
come to us, stop out all night in the back garden.
By the way, yesterday Brenda found a letter from Em at “Jedge De Costers.” It was
dated June 10 and is the latest news we have from your part of the country. It came via
Pine Level.
De Coster now thinks of running a schooner to Key West to carry his lumber for him. $7
a thousand for logs delivered at mill. $8 per thousand feet for freight and other
incidentals such as sawing and loading and wharfage and auctioneers fees wont exactly
pay if lumber don’t bring more than $20 per thousand in Key West. By saving freight
and establishing a lumber yard in Key West Natty may be able to run the mill.
George went “shootin’” to day back to “Burnt Hammock” and Alligator Pond. He saw
that same old buck, but it was too near this time. It frightened him so when it “got up and
got” that George didn’t know he was out “shootin’” at all—until the white flag
disappeared in the tall saw grass!
Mosquitos so thick we all go to bed early tonight. As Brenda is popping in Anna and
Fred call and we converse through the window screen, Anna and Fred dancing a sort of
Floridian Highland Fling and I going through a scratch polka. We could not ask them in
and back they went to their shantee.
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Punta Gorda Chica Tuesday July 20, 1875
A slight breeze springs up with the sun. This gentle zephyr dies away and is succeeded
by one of more strength. The wind grows and the sun gets higher until the warm rays
gradually get the best of it and the zephyr remains a gentle one up to noon time.
Another shower, such as we had last evening would be very refreshing just now. About
an inch and a half of water fell just about sunset. More to day will cause the “arth” to be
very grateful.
The weather is having a peculiar effect on the children. They want to sleep all the time.
Phip slept from 2 o’c yesterday until 8 o’c in the evening narrowly missing his white tea
and hominy. Freddie managed this morning to sleep until 9 o’c and he was up and
dressed and filling up with hominy and sweet potatoes about 10 o’c.
I have just now taken a nap, so overcome with sleep did my morning’s work make me—
and yet I did not accomplish very much.
It is now high noon and the mercury is over the 90° line trying to see how high it can get.
George has been after that same old cat—I mean deer—but as his hands were empty
when he came in I judge he saw him—but played it alone.
“Easter” had the toothache last night. So she remarked to Anna this morning:
“Mrs. Howard, I got an awful toothache all last night. Them snags,” pointing to her
mouth, “them snags ached awful. I wish Mr Howard would pull ‘em all out. Can’t he?”
“He hasn’t any instruments to pull teeth with, Esther” said Anna.
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Why, I thought Mr. Howard had some pullikens.” quoth Esther.
“Had some what?”
“Pullikens, to pull teeth with. But I’m afraid it aint all toothache. I reckon I got some
moraligy too.”
This was too much for Anna and she asked no more questions.
What has become of the Sainted Maria? Her week is up today and she was to go to Punta
Rassa, then to Fort Myers and then back here. She could do it all easily in two day—and
yet she does not show up.
4o’c—It is beastly warm and no breeze. While the little quicksilver ball has got up to 93.
Fred, George and I have been down to the lower “head” for palmetto leaves to shade the
little lemons and oranges and we have returned warm and lazy like.
I haven’t the strength of a louse at the present moment. Fred and George are indoors
trying to cool off and Brenda and the children and I are trying to do the same over on our
place. The last “hair” that broke the camels back for me today, was grinding 2 qts of corn
in Fred’s mill. A little breeze is springing up now and the clouds are “bunching.” I hope
we will have rain.
Evening—But we haven’t had any and although the thunder mutters across the bay and
the sun has just gone down behind a purple rain cloud no welcome drops have scattered
over the surface of P.G.C.
I have just been over to Freds for water. The mosquitoes there were thick and musical.
Here, at home, I find only stragglers from the ground army and they seem to be anxious
only to get out of the way.
Brenda feels quite miserable to night from over work, heat and other bothers and we will
all turn in early.
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Punta Gorda Chica Wednesday July 1, 1875
Cooler and pleasanter this morning. Yet very little wind. Trade wind clouds cover the
sky, but leave loopholes enough for an extremely warm sun to shoot rays on our devoted
heads.
It is just 10 o’c and I have rushed in to get rid of the heat. I am wet with perspiration and
indoors this “wetness” acts as a cooling apparatus. The bay is like a mirror with only
occasional streaks of ripple. George has gone across to the mill and the white sail of the
old skiff has been ½ an hour getting up from De Costers to the mill.
Fred is out in front of his house engaged on his “street opening.” I expect every moment
to see him “go in out of the sun. When finished Fred will have quite a nice looking front
to his log house. And all the rain that may fall will run off without any chance of
standing.
Freddie has just come in from “Auntys” and claims to be very sleepy. So he takes a
pillow to the front piazza for a nap. And now Phip tries the same dodge—but the baby
between the two is fretting and Brenda drops her sewing to give him what Phip calls
“titty-ten” and then to place him in the hammock for a nap also. All three youngsters are
looking well this morning and Brenda isn’t near so low down as she was yesterday.
Evening—Phip taken with vomiting. Can’t imagine why. He has no teeth to get. He has
no fever, but looks pale and listless. Besides he is restless when put to bed and wanders
from head to foot and back again constantly. A bad diarrhaea accompanies his vomiting.
Not a pleasant look out for the night.
Brenda worries a little over this new sickness, as we have so little variety of food to
choose from for the
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children. However I hope the boy will be better after his nights rest.
No rain to day.
Thermometer 92° for the highest.
Punta Gorda Chica, Thursday July 22, 1875
A restless miserable night for the whole of us was last night. Phip rolled about all night
and moaned and called “Mamma.” Baby cried and was nursed 20 times. Brenda got
used up. I lay awake, jumped up, tried this thing and that for quieting Phip and dropped
asleep from extreme weariness toward morning. The night was warm and mosquitoes
bothersome.
About midnight I heard a rushing of wind and I looked out toward Freds. The moonlight
was shining on his houses but just beyond a dark mass of black cloud seemed to rest on
the surface of earth hiding every thing beyond. It was a horrid looking cloud and as black
as ink. The wind roared overhead and a big rumpus seemed going on a hundred feet
above our shanty. There were other clouds in the sky but this looked just awful. A half
hour afterward all was serene again.
This morning Phip seem better and takes to his rice and a little lemonade Brenda made
with a relish. Toward noon his color came back and as no bad “passages” have occurred
I trust he will keep so. The hot sun and free use of rain water undoubtedly upset him.
But we are all so allfired sleepy!
George has just returned (2 o’c) from the old wharf. He brought back 2 drum fish,
weighing respectively 20 and 15 pounds, 1 “snook” —a species of pickerel weighing 10
pounds and some smaller fry. These fish he struck alone. No one went with him.
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Evening—No rain today. Thermometer up to 93°.
Phip sick again this evening. Same trouble. Acidity of stomach and a desire constantly
to change his location.
“Anodder night on ‘er mountain:”
Had our “snook” —or caballo—for supper. The finest fish yet. Hard flesh good grain
and fine flavor. Drum fish proved wormy. Fred will cook them for the pigs.
Potato hilling hard work to day. Accomplish only about 50 feet and dig holes in the
shade instead.
Brenda has another nervous headache to night and she feels pretty bad.
Punta Gorda Chica, Friday July 23, 1875
More sleeplessness and more sickness. Phip rolled again and went on voyages of
discovery, incessantly, all over the bed and crib, crawling over Brenda and me and
waking the baby. Brenda was almost crazy with headache and matters were not very
lively all night. This morning we all feel like “dirty dish cloths.” I feel like the devils rag
baler. Phip is better this morning and Brenda, after lying down in the breeze on the front
piazza feels a little restored.
Yesterday baby Harry went fishing with a button hook and caught himself. I heard him
cry and looking for cause, saw the button hook fast in his tongue and he, holding the
other end, was drawing his tongue out of his mouth. I hastily unhooked him and the
wound may have caused his uneasiness through the night.
During the night Nuese barked long and furiously. This he often does. But soon I heard
a pistol shot, and saw a white figure standing in the path between the houses. This
morning Fred tells me that he got up in his night shirt and drawers about midnight and
rushed
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out in the wake of Neuse’s bark. The dog was shaking with fear and his bristles stood up
like “quills upon the fretful --.” An object coiled up lay in the path which the dog would
approach and recede from and bark at vigorously. Fred thought it a rattlesnake coiled up
and the dog, perhaps, thought so too. Therefore Fred fired and the shot took effect for it
never moved. An examining his game he found it was only a tuft of grass! Poor Fred, he
was “sold” dog cheap!
A schooner is in sight below at a distance of 7 or 8 miles. Perhaps the “Santa Maria” —
as the “Bonne” has had hardly time to make the trip to Key West and back.
George and Freddie are out in the skiff trying to make her out.
When she comes up Bags and I will go over for letters and such freight as she may have
and then I will leave this batch of notes to travel 1500 miles toward the north pole.
The day opened fairly but with little wind. Later it breezed up and now in “fitful gushes
it cools our fevered brows” —or words to that effect.
But there is little evidence of rain.
It is now 11 o’c as I write and the sky is blue, flecked with fleecy white clouds and the
wind is blowing more briskly.
It is a splendid day to stop in the house and enjoy life, for mosquitoes are non est and all
nature here abouts seems pleasant to look at from beneath a shaded piazza or roof. In fact
mosquitoes seldom bother in the house day times.
With love to all
Ever your
Jarvee G.A.G.
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Punta Gorda Chica
Charlotte Harbor Fla.
Saturday July 23, 1875
My dear Pa,
We are being deluged by schooners as I commence my diary again.
Yesterday came the “Santa Maria” with some freight for Brenda and Anna—the latest
spring fashions from New York—(old dresses and waists and new stockings and things)
and several letters, the latest date being June 16…. George and I boarded the schooner
and got our things. They “luffed” and acted quite decently. Then we tried to work the
old skiff over to De Costers for more letters. She wouldn’t go and we went ashore to take
the white boat and row over. It threatened rain and we waited. Then occurred a row
between Fred and Baggs about the boat and the result was I rowed over alone and got our
remaining mail.
At De Costers I managed to get a nice junk of beef cut from a quarter of one of De
Costers new ox team that unfortunately broke its neck that morning and then with clean
clothes, beef, a pound of tobacco and little Fred rowed home. The thermometer was 93°
going over and 90° coming back with a nice breeze on the second cruise.
But after all no rain fell. Yet it seemed for 3 hours to strike all around P.G.C. and yet no
drops fell that we could feel.
Early this morning the “Guide” of Marco—a pretty schooner painted white and very fast,
of about 15 tons—came in and went up the river. She had no sooner disappeared than the
Cracker from Key West “hove” in sight and reached De Coster’s about 5 o’c. George
gets her letters.
It seems odd that of the many long
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statements I have sent to you none have reached you. But I shall keep on and hope that
they will turn up one of these days.
So far the latest date I have from you is July 2, which may account for my not hearing of
your receipt of my letters.
No rain to-day. Thermometer 95°. In fact it is warm today and not the most invigorating
kind of weather for work. It is now in the height of the rainy season (?) and we have not
much rain to speak of for 2 weeks. Why this thickness? as Artemus Ward might say. A
funny country this!
Beef steak for breakfast and dinner. Quite a relish after tainted bacon. For we have had
to go that latter occasionally lately. If George will only kill that old buck and stop
fretting about “the amenities of civilization” —and some girl at the north who sends
letters in an envelope with a black border—we should be happy. But he wont!
Key West is being terribly afflicted just now with yellow fever, small pox and congestive
chills. There have been as many as 60 deaths in a day. The doctors seem desirous to
keep matters as quiet as possible. Over ½ a dozen persons that I knew in the place have
died and others are very low. Mr. Phillips has written me quite a long account of the
sickness there. It must be awful. Everyone that can go is going north. The stores are
many of them closed and Cubans are leaving by the schooner load.
Punta Gorda Chica Sunday July 24, 1875
Another schooner arrives to day! The “Bonne” shows up during the forenoon 26 hours
from Key West.
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She reaches De Costers after dinner. Supposing she can have nothing for us, as she left
so soon after the other crafts, no one felt inclined to row over and back to find out. But
toward evening Anna and Fred call upon us. The “Bonne” crosses over and seems stuck
on the bar, for as darkness covers us we see her stationary just where the bar rises. After
the call Fred gets almost to his house when a Conk shell horn sounds. This Conk horn, at
intervals had been tooting for an hour. But with it Fred hears Pepi’s voice to “come out,
we’ve got freight.” Fred goes and in he comes a half hour after with 2 barrels of flour. In
additions to this Pepi said was a box also but was covered up with freight for Addison
and Morgan that he couldn’t get at it, but he would send it down by one of the other
schooners or bring it himself shortly. The mosquitos were so thick when Fred got ashore
that we merely put the barrels in the boat house and let them rest there until tomorrow.
What is in the box we shall probably know tomorrow also, as there are letters across the
river.
It has been warm, as usual, but an elegant breeze has tempered the heat. We have not felt
warm except for half an hour after meals. The breeze at times would take any chair left
on the piazza on a voyage across it and drop it over the edge.
The day has been remarkably pleasant—but we have had no rain.
Brenda, Freddie, Philip and the baby all are as well as can be. What wonderful effect the
mere knowledge of flour in our stores has.
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Punta Gorda Chica Monday July 25, 1875
At daylight the “Bonne” is visable [sic] making slow progress up river. By breakfast
time she has disappeared.
George goes over to De Costers and gets back before “Church=time!” He brings one
letter for Brenda and none from you Mother or anyone else. Brenda’s is from her mother
and dated July 17. There is one letter from Floyds. Some time ago Fred wrote to them
about our spoiled bacon. They return answer that they cant make up the loss, but they
send a hundred pounds of hams as Fred wrote for, and add that he can forward the
amount $15.92. We shall use the hams, of course; then make the proper deduction for
spoiled bacon and manage some way to pay for what should be paid for. And these hams
are up at Lettuce Lake! Such confounded luck! They may come to us in as good
condition as the bacon did.
Thermometer 94°, no rain.
Brenda makes bread to day for the first time in 7 weeks. It seemed like a relish.
All well.
Old Curry “down with the fever” at Lettuce Lake. He and “Newt” Walden are building a
house for Addison there.
No potato hilling today. Clean up about house. Almost too hot to work in the shade.
Punta Gorda C. Tuesday July 26, 1875
A repetition of yesterday until towards afternoon and then we had rain. And such rain. It
made things look fresh again and soaked the dry surface. Just before the storm broke I
had put up 40 feet of potato hill and as I saw the clouds coming in such threatening array
I hurriedly planted…some
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120 potato vines. These all took the benefit of the welcome rain drops.
Fred’s “water shed” and street opening work like a charm. All his excessive water was
drawn off.
Thermometer had just touched 93° when the storm sent it down to 85° and left us cooler
atmosphere thereafter.
The “Guide” of Marco sailed by the house this morning and capi--- worked her way in a
light breeze out of the bay. She is one of the prettiest boats we have had in here.
We hear nothing from the other boats up the river.
De Coster, Mrs D.C. and the children are ailing. D-C.—dyspepsia; Mrs. D billiousness
[sic]; and the little D.C.s—prickly heat.
Punta Gorda Chica, Wednesday July 27, 1875
Warmer and more quiet as regards weather. Toward noon several showers seem about to
break over us, but after much thunder and lightning, they trot around us without result
and finally go up the river.
Get to work early at the potato hills and put up 100 feet during the day.
The rain yesterday filled three tubs and I had no water to bring from Freds.
George takes the skiff and grains and goes aspearing just before dinner. He gets tow fine
red fish and we take a fish dinner.
Orange trees starting again today. Some of Freds are showing leaves at every pore.
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Fred and Anna this evening have gone to De Costers. George is making a call at our
house and Brenda is giving him some good advice. Mosquitoes are quieter than usual
and the world wags quietly on.
“Easter” thinks Freddie is the “pittiest” boy she has ever seen and that Master Phip’s eyes
look like “great black gooze berries.”
We still dine, breakfast, and sup on the back piazza—our open dining room—
notwithstanding the rainy season and mosquitoes!
Fred feeds the chickens and takes entire control of them vide. George resigned. Result
of a little brotherly affection on George’s part. Lately George has been undergoing the
pleasure of an over flow of cussedness. He thinks he is in prison and that Fred is his
keeper. Under this feeling he sometimes forgets himself and says more than is
gentlemanly to Fred before Anna. Hard words sometimes follow and naturally too. Then
George goes wildly into cussedness and “goes home on the next schooner.” When he
reaches his extreme point and retires within himself he gradually works his way over here
and Ben and I talk to him “like a father and mother” and “grace, mercy and peace” follow
until the fit comes on again.
I haven’t had a sharp word with George since you left and I don’t intend to.
Still, last week when George in a fit of cussedness, foolishly took the hatchet to stave the
white boat in—and I really believe he would have done it—I stopped him positively and
decidedly—and
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calmly—and the next day George came over to my shanty to thank me for interfering and
preventing what would have been the worst piece of foolishness he ever contemplated.
George is a queer fellow and yet he has many good traits. —and some of the opposite
quality.
Referring to your last letter July 2. received by schooner last week I notice you ask what
has become of the long letter I promised in my hurried one of May 15. That promised
letter was commenced about the 1st of June and has been in process of continuation ever
since going to you at the same time in 10 to 12 page installments. Since commencing I
have tried to give you all the information each day that I could and let you make your
own summing up from the mass of evidence I give. And I shall continue until you get
enough of it. But don’t publish it all in book form! By this time you must be flooded
with my “diaree.”
I hope most sincerely that you and Ma can come to Florida for next winter. I really think
it would do Mother good as she would be free from housework and in a good climate and
among her children.
You also ask my opinion in regard to mortgaging your house again for our benefit. So far
as Brenda and I am concerned in this venture in Florida you may content yourself with
one fact. We are both better pleased with the country the more we see of it. And I am
still of the same opinion
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that, our usual health granted and we are not deserted, that we shall keep to Florida for
many years to come, in the full expectation that in time we shall reap many fold what we
are sowing now. Brenda is more contented and although she has the hardest season of
work she ever had, she is spunky enough to say that as long as Anna and Fred remain in
their house she will stop in hers and endeavor to see the end of the grand experiment. I
feel as I did when I came here in regard to the value of the climate and its adaptation to
fruit growing and the raising of many kinds of vegetables. With more help in tools or
muscle I feel that we must push ahead and make our way. And yet it seems terribly hard
that both Fred and I should be as it were dependent on you. As the years roll round I
know we shall be able to both of us be of less burden, until the boot will be on the other
leg and we can make some return to you for all the good you have done to us. I wish
there was some way that you could help us without resorting to the manner you intend.
Both Fred and I appreciate most sincerely all you have done and are going to do for us
and we shall so endeavor to merit it all and lighten the call as we best can. I think the
climate of Florida wonderful. The more I see of it the better I like it. But if I had my
choice I would have fewer mosquitoes around in calm weather. The country gives
evidence of a good return for all labor spent on its soil. With more muscle and
implements of agriculture and such
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I see no reason why we shall not, by being strictly economical be able to be self
supporting fully in another year.
The only drawback I find in our location is the extreme newness and sourness of the soil.
Wherever it is enriched and prepared and the sourness taken from it, there nature is
prolific in action. But from time to time I will add my views etc.
At present I have up about 2600 feet of potatoes. I may make a little spec on them. I
expect pigs one of these days and every pig will make a return of $7 for his keeping.
Then we hope to get some little income from eggs and chickens. And that is about all I
can see for this coming winter.
Every chance I get I put in a lemon or orange tree or something that will prove of value
and dig up potatoes as long as I can stand the heat of the sun.
When I get a little more time when the children are not bothersome and there is quiet
around I’ll go over your letter and with in answer to your questions critically and to the
point. In the meantime I will close up for this evening, go over to the wharf and pull the
boat up and then go to bed.
10 o’c P.M. The boat is up, mosquitoes are rampant, Anna and Fred came over safely.
George has gone to bed and so Good Night!
Punta Gorda Chica Thursday July 28, 1875
The day opens as usual with plenty of sunshine a moderate breeze and the prospect of
rain. The rain did not, however, come until 3 o’c and then
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only a slight shower visited us.
The weather was extremely warm all day and there were fewer breezes.
I tried potato hilling; hole digging, listing and various other modes of exercise and gave
up. It was about too much of a good thing. The thermometer kept about 94° and 95° too
long for comfort.
This evening it is quite pleasant with only a few hundred mosquitoes enlivening life as I
write. The air is cool as it comes in the open window and Brenda and mites have all gone
to bed.
And I have just thought that the bed is just the place for me.
“So long.”
Punta G.C. Friday July 29, 1875
Another warm day with small showers.
The “Bonne” appears at 3 o’c.
This letter will go with her if I send right away.
I send you two Charlotte H sketches. Wash, and a specimen of my bananas.
Brenda is sick abed with a slight attack of chills and fever. She was taken this morning.
Fred and I have succeeded in getting the best of the chill and also the fever and I think
she will be all right tomorrow.
It rains now.
Fred is getting ready to go.
I must stop.
More next time.
No work to day.
All the rest well.
Ever and c., with much love, to all at home.
Jarvee G.A.G.
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Punta Gorda Chica
Charlotte Harbor Fla.
Sunday July 31, 1875
My dear Pa,
It seems that my letter to you which I hurriedly finished to go on the “Bonne” on Friday
afternoon did not go with that fickle craft but did go yesterday by the new schooner
“Laura.” This “Laura” is the same boat that began life a few weeks ago as the “Cracker”:
then changed to the “Julia” and now is known as the “Laura.” What it will change to
next I can’t imagine…
Both Fred and George started out Friday afternoon in the white boat to board the
“Bonne.” A squall came up as the schooner “luffed: It was lively work but the boys got
the box of hams from on board and then made for shore. Then the rain came down in
torrents. Fred and George got wet, but the hams did not. In the hurry of boarding and
unloading they forgot to give Pepi the letters and during the evening George Fred and
Anna went over to De Costers to take them as the “Bonne” had anchored about dusk just
beyond Platts Point. They learned from Natty that the “Bonne” had no load ready up the
river and therefore came down for a load of wood, after which she would return up river
and cover her deck with cattle. Then she would be ready for Key West, yellow fever, etc.
Yesterday about noon the “Laura” showed her white hull to us and she passed a few
hours opposite De Costers under full sail. The wind was “nix” and she just floated down
and around the stake. She did not get out of sight until near dark.
I wrote you that Brenda was “down with the fever.” It was a preliminary
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attack to what might have been a serious illness. Fred used his knowledge of physic to
ward off the chill and to stop the fever. But as the sweating process attending the forcing
out of the shakes weakened her the trouble broke out in a new place and yesterday and
today she is very weak and in bed and trying to overcome a bad diarrhoea. It seems also
that this last phase is the result of a preponderance of worms in the stomach, as it was
with Freddie and Phip and as both Fred and I believe we are occupied with. There is
nothing serious about Brenda’s illness, only it is disagreeable and acts as a drawback to
work and pleasure. And with the children to look after at the same time it comes rather
hard. Fred and Anna have been very kind. They have invited us over to nearly every
meal. And Doctor Fred has made many professional calls. The baby don’t seem to be
affected at all and is as happy as a clam at high water.
Mr. and Mrs De Coster called on Fred today, were caught in a shower and stopped to tea.
The “chickens” and I took breakfast and dinner at Freds and I got tea for our family.
Brenda rode over in the phaeton and walked back. (Said phaeton consisted of a steamer
chair, with an umbrella attachment, rigged up in the hand cart—very stylish indeed.)
Yesterday was a regular rainy season day. It rained, drizzled and poured at alternate
intervals from early morning to late evening. Of course seasoned with dashes of sunshine
between changes.
Today we had no rain until toward evening. Thermometer down a little.
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Punta Gorda Chica Monday August 1, 1875
Brenda passes an uncomfortable night and feels weak and listless. I get breakfast after
much trouble then attend to chores, look after children, baby, Brenda and don’t get a
chance to do much work. In fact I only try to keep the machine running.
We dine at Freds. Brenda improved by the walk over and back. Most of the afternoon
passed there and we also take tea.
Fred in digging potatoes finds one that beats the one I sketched last fall. That weighed 5
1/2 pounds. The new “find” weighed just 8 pounds. And it was one of the best brands—
a West India. It was without blemish and remarkably clean looking and healthy. Fred
has boxed it and proposes to send it to Crane, editor of the Key West “Key of the Gulf.”
This evening we sat on the shore until almost dark without the sign of a mosquito there.
Three weeks ago, in the same spot, there were millions. I believe the pesky critters are
letting up.
Cool and pleasant. Thermometer 83° at the highest.
A goodly amount of rain came today.
The “Bonne” goes up for her load of cattle about noon.
Punta Gorda Chica Tuesday August 2, 1875
Brenda still weak, but much better. The diarrhoea gradually disappearing. Take
breakfast and dinner at Freds. George goes a fishing and catches two good ones. A
snook weighing 21 pounds and a jew fish weighing 20 ½.
I get tea in a fearful rain
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storm and with my old army coat carry the tray to Brenda. She feels better after a nice
little slice of “snook roe” which Anna cooked and sent over by ‘Mandy.
Rain fell nearly all day. And plenty of it.
Very few mosquitoes tonight and none visable [sic] during the day.
Low temperature—about 85° at the topmost.
A small amount of Liebig essence of meat gives Brenda strength. She is gradually
mending.
The baby left to himself more the past few days has commenced to creep and he goes in
regular alligator style.
Punta Gorda Chica, Wednesday August 3, 1875
This morning the air is a trifle warmer and more sultry. Brenda slept very little all night
and feels all gone like this morning. She is nervous and weak and anxious for
nourishment to increase her strength and to give the youngster something beside. I try
several things, but Liebig does it again. A small piece of George’s snook adds to the
dose and a spoonful of brandy caps the climax.
Toward night Ben was quite lively and with an increasing appetite.
Fred and George row to the old wharf where Fred dives for Bags knife he lost overboard
yesterday. He gets it; they both have a swim and they get back in time for dinner.
Ben helps me a little with breakfast but gives up on dinner and again tries to do a little
help on supper.
More rain today. A shower in the morning and several in the afternoon.
The evening proves cool. Thermometer 82°.
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Punta Gorda Chica Thursday August 4, 1875
This morning the atmosphere is quite cool not causing the mercury to rise above 84°.
This afternoon it went a point or two better.
Rain fell at noon, not with any sharpness and the clouds hung over Charlotte Harbor
nearly the rest of the day.
Brenda feels quite pert and chipper today. She and I got breakfast and we also got
dinner, but supper hasn’t come round yet and I suppose I will get that. A little more
Liebig did the strength getting business and a little less tea took away nervousness.
This morning I gave Fred an hour at potato digging. We got out one barrel of beauties
and Fred is at it again this afternoon. He is anxious to send some good ones to Key West
market and try his luck. The price there a few weeks ago was from 85 cents to $1.65 per
bushel according to quality. Fred ought to bring $1.75 for they are the finest I ever saw.
George has turned over a new leaf and several potatoes. He is at work with Fred getting
out “West Indies” and “Polanders” and with white pants and shirt makes a picturesque
figure of himself.
I have tried several kinds of work to day but cant yet get sufficient time to do much. By
tomorrow I hope to be able to add a few more potatoes to my stock.
I don’t know as I mentioned to you that the corn we got in Key West last ----. became
heated some time ago and broke out beautifully in “weevils.” They fairly generated from
the corn and after using most of it to pay for washing, I gave the remainder of mine to
George for the chickens. A smaller quality of the same
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bird we discovered lately in the rice. But he seems to lack the fecundity of the larger
species and don’t increase rapidly enough to alarm us. The weevil gros managed to get
in the flour, but only a small quantity of him. As we had but a bucketful left at the time it
made very little difference. Lately we find that a small worm (about so big xxxxx )
perambulates through the hominy, but we eat him cooked and seldom bother ourselves
about him. Then the maccaroni [sic] has shown worms lately which are inbred and seem
to grow like young chickens, and feed upon the inner substance, and then having satisfied
themselves, break the shell of their prison and come into the world for a change. But the
funniest worm yet is the ham worm. He is about the size of the hominy worm, but flealike in his agility. While you are looking at the white little object—snap he goes
snapping out feet until he is lost on the kitchen floor. Any new varieties that turn up I’ll
write you about at some future time. All these critters can be prevented as soon as
experience teaches us. We have prevented weevils in corn by keeping it cool. We keep
our flour barrels headed and in a cool place. The hominy we shall also do likewise with,
as the hominy worm is a new arrival. Our motto is “Experience does it.”
By the way I haven’t included several other kinds of worms that feed on the individual—
I’ll leave them for future telling when I know more about them.
Cockroaches are abundant at Anna’s but fewer here. Three different kinds of wasps have
set up housekeeping behind
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trunks and among the rafters. One is the “news teller,” George says—in consequence of
the noise he makes telling the news as he comes in out of the sun. Having retailed “all he
knows” he goes out again and over to Freds, and relates the same story there and so back
and forth, continually. But enough of the insect tribe. I’ll proceed to help Brenda with
supper.
After—Brenda felt well enough to walk over to Anna’s while I stop at home and take
care of the babies. She has just come back with Fred, Anna and Little Fred. The evening
is cool, and the sunset just faded was lovely. Mosquitoes swarm and rain threatens. But
rain threatens often and don’t come.
Punta Gorda Chica Friday August 5, 1875
The sun arose at sunrise, as did we all of us—babies included. The air was clear and
mosquitoes thick. Not a great amount of wind greeted me as I took a few roots and pine
sticks and started the fire. But the mosquitoes did. When it was under good headway
(the fire) and tea hot aboiling Brenda came upon the scene. In due time we both turned
out a good breakfast.
After breakfast I took Brown Phip and George and we rowed across for the clothes that
Tenah had to clean. It was warm and we took it quietly. We found Mrs. De Coster
sick—Rachel said: “Down with the fever” —the clothes we got and then rowed up to the
mill for a few moments and more particularly to enquire about the incoming schooner
which was becalmed below Platts Point. De Coster knew nothing of it and we all sat
around for ½ an hour and rowed home again. Old Joe was working at the mill and I
sketched him hurriedly
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a copy of which individual I send to you with this. He was imglittly [?] pleased when he
saw his phiz and said “Dat’s me; but you haint got enuff ankle.” I only send you his
upper work. If he is a trifle fat blame the artist.
George has been over to the new schooner. She is a trader with salt for sale. Coming
from Pensacola.
Fred and Anna are calling now and it is after dark.
Nothing particularly new.
Punta Gorda Chica Saturday August 6, 1875
The “Bonne” appears while we are at breakfast this morning.
Fred has barreled up his potatoes and will soon make off.
I therefore close up notes.
Before next schooner I’ll try to write you a good reviewing letter with my opinion,
learned of experience, in Florida and to answer your questions in last letter received.
I thank you much for the barrel of flour—for I suppose you sent it and we shall make it
last even longer than the other.
Brenda feels better every day and all the children are well.
I would write to Ma and Em but I have been too busy.
To day we have delightful weather. The sun shines brightly and yet it is cool and
breezy—
No rain yesterday afternoon.
With love to all
Ever yours
Jar Vee G.A.G.
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Punta Gorda Chica
Charlotte Harbor Fla.
Sunday August 8, 1875
My dear Pa,
Up to the present time I have managed to do a considerable amount of scribbling, and
long lines of Charlotte Harbor matter, good, bad and indifferent have traveled toward
you. Have any of my notes reached you? By this time I presume you have done much
wading through such masses of pen and ink scrapings as I have got over. And here she
goes again! I hope you will manage to get some idea of a summer in Florida without
partaking thereof.
You would enjoy it here to day. It is warm of course; for old Mercury has bobbed up into
the nineties again. But the air is not sultry and the breezes are delightful.
Just after breakfast Fred and George and John Lomond and Esther and Mandy and
George Thomas all went across the “creek” to De Costers. It was a final clearing out of
darkies from this side of the creek. We are (the Howards) left alone in our glory and
hereafter we shall—or rather Fred will—do without black help.
Yesterday Fred used John to good advantage. He went into the swamp with him and got
some buttonwood. Then John chopped some up. Then he brought some lightwood and
between times as the “Bonne” appeared Fred George and John boarded her. Fred sent off
two barrels of sweet potatoes to Key West and the 8 pound “West India” to Editor Crane.
Everything was favorable. The Bonne only drifted by and the boarders had it all their
own way. The “Bonne” took letters and will go direct to Key West as usual.
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During these days of sudden showers we dine, breakfast and sup in our dining room, “i.e.
within doors.
Brenda gains strength every day. Freddie is getting quite hearty again and Brown Phip
and the baby are well and peckish. Fred and Anna keep remarkable well—although
Fred’s eyes trouble him considerably lately with a sort of gummy inflammation over
night. George Bags seems quite happy lately as “he has finally made up his mind” about
his future. He has undoubtedly written you full particulars.
This afternoon it threatened rain. Fred and Anna were over. Dense black clouds hung
over the woods. Then with a mighty rush the wind came. Before we felt the force of it
we could see small pine branches and leaves dropping like rain off in the woods. Then
with a howl the breeze struck around the store house, tore the banana leaves, broke down
some castor bean trees and struck a full broadside on the back piazza. Its force was
immense. But the threatened rain did not follow. Anticipating a deluge Fred and Anna
rushed over in advance of the blow. But the breeze blew itself out and quiet and
mosquitoes reigned during the rest of the day.
Punta Gorda Chica, Monday August 9, 1875
To day little Fred is 5 years old and he has gone to every one on the premises with the
news. He feels much bigger and promises to be a man in future as regards action.
A slight easterly breeze in the morning wafted George to the old wharf. He brought back
a red fish and a drum fish. The latter furnished shoe laces and we had no desire to eat
him. The red fish we cooked at both houses; but he was rather
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slippery. Drum fish are not very good table fish. They are nearly always wormy.
Today we have had rain in vast quantity -. It came in a regular pour just after dinner and
kept coming most of the afternoon. Large puddles formed everywhere and there was a
spot in Fred’s back garden where the ground was positively “pompey.” It was very warm
all the morning and very wet all the afternoon. I managed to do some odd jobs but no
very telling work. It was just the weather to lie on a lounge in the shade, with a little
nigger to fan away mosquitoes and wait for mealtime.
Potatoes look well and are making rapidly.
Quails are plenty, but they won’t get caught in the trap I set for them. Can you give me a
hint?
It is now proposed to send De Coster to Brookville as the delegate from Charlotte Harbor
in regard to the Florida RR. It seems to be a pretty positive fact that the South Florida
people intend to insist upon Yulee finishing up his charter—which originally compelled
him to run a road to Cape Hayes on Charlotte Harbor. Having property at Cedar Keys
Mr. Yulee preferred to make that the terminus to his road. But the matter has proceeded
so far now, (so De Coster says) that it has resolved itself into a nutshell thusly. The
railroad will be finished to Tampa with a branch road to Charlotte Harbor, or the main
road will go to Charlotte Harbor with a branch to Tampa. So De Coster has been
proposed as delegate to represent the interests of Charlotte Harbor and Pease Creek
people. Should the road be
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inaugurated and finished it will cross the Miaca and Alligator Creek and come within 5
miles of the De Coster plantation. And this railroad will naturally be a benefit. But more
when I hear more.
This evening after supper I took my briar wood siesta on the “little red lounge.” and
gazed (“poetically”) upon the gorgeous sunset. Upon the window bar congregated a
camp meeting of the festive mosquito. To experiment I raised the frame and the camp
meeting adjourned sine die. I further experimented by counting the camp meeting as it
dissolved into the air. That I could easily do as the small specks were relieved against the
bright sky as they exited. I counted 1000 mosquitoes who left our house for parts
unknown. “Oh, us; we have no mosquitoes here (slap) but (slap) just two miles (slap)
above here (slap) they are pretty thick (vigorous slaps).” Any way we felt no bites under
our canopy and rested peacefully.
Punta Gorda Chica, Tuesday August 10, 1875
Today has proved another rainy season pepper and salt day. It was a mixture of rain,
blow, and sunshine. First it sunshined and that vigorously until noon. I put in some
potatoes. Fred put in some hills! I ran in occasionally to take care of the baby. Fred ran
in often to take care of his pants. We both accomplished much. But my hill was the
largest! I got in about 50 West Indias, and then it became too warm to do more.
Sunshine lasted until the bread pudding went down. Then clouds obscured his
downpelting rays. I tried to take advantage
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of the coolness, but the deluge came too soon. Down came the torrent, but the greater
part of it bothered De Coster and his side of the creek.
Then gallinippers and mosquitoes set in for a festive holiday, and sang as gently as
cooing doves. Sand flies ventured to add their meek little voices and there wasn’t much
paradise laying around loose for the rest of the day.
Again this evening I counted the camp meeting as it “let out.” I opened the door rather
late and only counted 250 before it was dark.
As I sit writing under the green shade of the student lamp sand flies are dropping, after
cooking themselves against the hot chimney, and forming nice little piles on the table
beneath, mosquitoes are buzzing and tooting around any ears and occasionally nipping
my legs and arms; in the distance myriads of frogs are making night hideous and aside
from this there is intense quiet.
Brenda underwent another short cut today. Her hair is as short as I could get it and in the
center of her cranium, where the heavy braids,—during opulence, —pulled the hair out
and left a partial bald spot I shaved a beautiful diamond shaped spot for ornament. Ben
and Anna have set the fashions for Charlotte Harbor, Mrs. De Coster is going to have her
hair cropped! The children have already been through the mill.
Speaking of mills, Natty is going to devote Saturday afternoons to grinding corn for those
who wish to pay 4 qts to the bushel toll.
And that is all for today!
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Punta Gorda Chica Wednesday August 11, 1875
Another pepper and salt mixture as regards weather. All sorts we had today. Rain came
in better quantity than usual. Sunshine was meager, and clouds plenty—even when not
raining. Most of the showers were just beyond us and yet we gathered considerable wet
on our plantations. Among Fred’s potato beds numerous long puddles with dipping
potato vines gave evidence of rain having fallen. But about his house the sand was dry.
Weeds are springing up all over Fred’s place among his potato beds and on mine where
any clearing has been made. The grass near the palmetto bunch where you used to sit on
windy days is as high as your head and individual “spears” can be found that will reach
seven and eight feet. In fact everything seems to be growing to grass—and weeds and it
needs a strong arm to arrest such progress. In this grass mosquitoes collect and stay there
while the wind blows—but when calm comes out they sally in force. Gallinippers,
mosquitoes and sand flies make up the gallant army of torments. The only thing that
bothers them is breeze and when we have that the army go into barracks and wait for a
change.
Fred is doing wonders in the “worm” line. He removes “cartloads” every day. George
will try tomorrow and see what his luck will be. And a table spoonful of raw turpentine
followed by a tea spoonful every morning for a week clears up the entire system. After
George my turn comes and then each will follow in regular order. Ugh!
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Punta Gorda Chica, Thursday August 12, 1875
Thunder at intervals during the night and rain at intervals during the day. A sort of quiet
rainy day without the usual outbursts of nature. It rains because it wants to and it lets
down gently and without effort. The sky remains overcast, with occasional patches of
blue, all day. It is the nearest approach to what I imagine a rainy season rainy day to be.
But it was not a disagreeable one except so far as mosquitoes were concerned.
Yesterday I put up about 75 feet of potato hill and to day I added about 40. To day was a
lazy day and I think owing to my worms not having had the proper supply of chyle. [?]
have eaten heartily but they were not satisfied.
George took his turpentine this morning and Fred his smaller dose. Both look very
“peaked.” The result on both stomachs was satisfactory.
All our folks (worms not considered) are well and enjoying after the usual fashion, this
“Italy of America.”
This evening I let out about 700 mosquitoes from my double window. I can write quite
comfortably therefore before retiring.
Fred gave me part of his buttonwood that John got last Saturday. It burns better than
damp roots and I am thankful.
Twice today George marched up the creek and then marched back again. A crane each
time—but he missed each. How the “skeeters” nipped him as he was preparing to shoot!
It is raining as I turn in—very gently, but vastly refreshing to the taters.
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In the new dispensation Anna gets along quite nicely. It seems quite good to have no
niggers on our side of the “creek.” Fred has to put in a little more kitchen work but he
has his regular hours and it all moves on “slick as goose grease.” I also have my regular
hours now and Ben and I work into each others hands nicely. Our two plantations—what
there is of them—work along as regularly as clockwork now. Both Fred and I have our
outdoor hours and indoor hours and we accomplish quite a muchness.
But Ben wants me to “rub her back” and I must “draw to a close.”
Punta Gorda Chica Friday August 13, 1875
The day opens finely. Cool. Sunshine and a light breeze. Dampness surrounds us and
mosquitoes are plenty.
It is 8 o’c A.M. De Coster and Jeff Daniels have come over for a call on Fred and Mr. De
C. goes to Pine Level this afternoon. As it is a good opportunity to send my notes I rush
over to the house get there and post them off by him.
We are all well without exception—baring worms!
Hope you all are ditto.
By first schooner I’ll write to Em and Ma.
Enclosed I send you card—visits of Pepi.
Give my love to all at home and Brenda adds hers too.
And believe me
Ever Yours
Jar Vee G.A.G.
Brenda has been trying to write to Ma and Em for several days past. So much intervenes
in the way of work and guereding [?] that the result has not been accomplished. She’ll on
next schooner.
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Punta Gorda Chica
Charlotte Harbor Fla
Sunday August 14, 1875
My dear Pa,
On Friday morning Mr. De Coster took a weeks notes to Pine Level for the purpose of
starting them northward to you. Friday proved to be a warm day with one shower, plenty
of clouds, and much calmness. Yesterday it varied the rainy season variety by being
rather warm all day; threatening rain but dropping none and today it is warm again with
breezes and calms alternating. Still the average temperature of this month is some 8 or
10° cooler than July up to the present time.
Yesterday George and I went down to the old wharf for some tarpon. We poled the skiff
through the calm surface of Charlotte Harbor starting after breakfast and got to the wharf
about 9 o’c. A squall came up over Cape Hayes and just as we were ready to do some
tall striking the squall struck us. George had his grains in a big fish which had wrapped
itself around a post but in the endeavor to get him the grains came out or Mr. Fish went to
his cabinet. The ripples first obscured the bottom of bay, then the sun popped under a
cloud and by the time he popped out again the ripples had increased to waves and in ten
minutes white caps were added. Without fish and mad as hops we put up sail and took
advantage of the squall to get home in a little over half an hour. As we started from the
wharf the “Bonne” rounded Punta
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Gorda and came along nicely toward Platts Point. We were just having a good race when
she ran in at Platts and hauled down her jib for a stop.
After dinner the wind gradually slackened and as Brenda took the dishes in hand the
“Bonne” came out from the Point and up to De Costers. There she came to an anchor
hauled down all her sails and she remains there still.
As the mainsail dropped George and I got out the skiff and deliberately worked our way
with a light wind to the schooner for letters and freight. No one was on board but the
cook when we hauled up alongside. He informed us that there were no letters and no
freight; that the “Laura,” alias “Cracker,” alias Julia, had left a day and a half before the
“Bonne” with letters and freight. Also that Pepi was ashore and on his way to Pine Level
“to go to chuch.” As he gave us the information we could see a little figure in white coat
and black pants on a sorry looking nag moving rapidly along shore. “There’s Pepi now,”
said the cook pointing to the small object. We headed for shore and reached De Costers
wharf just in time to say “good bye” to Pepi as he was riding off with “talkative Cash” on
foot for Pine Level.
By the way De Coster borrowed George’s rubber boots when he went as his horse was so
“low down” that his feet dragged in the puddles.
We sat awhile and talked with Mrs De Coster until a threatening mass of clouds with
flashes of lightning
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worked round to the nor’ward and then jumped in the old skiff and beat back to our side
against a head wind. We anxiously looked for the “Laura” off toward Cape Hayes but we
shut out Punta Gorda without the glimpse of her double mainsails—for you must know
the “Laura” has a jib and two mainsails instead of the usual complement.
Fred was disappointed at not getting advice concerning his taters: George was
disappointed at not getting his “welcome home” and all the rest were disappointed at not
getting any letters. But “sich is life!”
As I was awakened this morning by two little feet poking me in the back and a
diminutive voice repeating “dah! dah! dah!” I gazed out of the door sash upon the sails of
the “Laura.” I dressed hurriedly and made the fire and had breakfast! The boat
meanwhile in beating against tide and with a head wind was making a few yards on each
tack and gradually drawing nearer. By 8 o’c she was opposite and Fred and I took the
skiff and went out to her. When within hailing distance we asked for letters and freight
and the answer came back that they had all been left at De Costers, as the schooner came
in during the night.
Some time after a breeze sprung up and George took the skiff across reaching this again
near dinner time, awfully glum, and vowing all sorts of horrid things. He had freight,
letters and no money from home. Fred and I advised him to think matters over quietly
before saying anything, to keep in good humor and wait events. He is evidently trying to
do so. Well, we got $3.00
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worth of corn from Key West, and Brenda a small box from her mother, and Freddie a
package of note paper and envelopes from his Aunty Minna. Letters were plenty and
satisfactory to all of us except Mr. Baggs. Your letters of July 15 and 23, Mothers of July
16 and Em’s of July 23 were for me. Fred got one from you a week later date. Brenda
had one from Mother and Em and one from her mother besides others. We are all as
happy as clams (with exception aforesaid) at one piece of news. That news is that you
and Mother will be with us about October. We will all look forward to that season of the
year with pleasant anticipations. This information has brightened up Brenda, Fred and
Anna and the children amazingly and we are even now making plans which will be
eventuated “when Pa and Ma come!”
I really think Mother will enjoy her winter here. She will get rid of cold weather,
housework and worry and it will be the main endeavor among us all to make it pleasant—
as far as we can for her during her stay in Florida.
In one of your letters I was astonished to see a $5. greenback. It looked immense to me!
Accept my thanks for the same. It was awfully acceptable as I had but one dollar left in
my pouch. Also Brenda, baby and I thank you for the Broma. It came in a box from
Williamsburgh. In the box also were half a dozen cans of tomatoes, (three of which
Brenda sent to Anna) a
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small box of peppermint candies four small picture books for the children and several
pounds of prunes. These “extras” came from Grandma Reeve.
I am quite pleased to know that at last some of my “scribbles” have reached their
destination. But they seem to drop on in a bunch like and from odd quarters. Have you
had any postmarked New Orleans, Galveston or Australia?
And now to go through your letters and answer questions. George has just been over and
cut my hair short and after the Sing Sing pattern and I’ll try with uncovered brain to do so
faithfully.
We didn’t ask for bread—or rather flour to make it with—because we knew you had
bother enough and as long as we could stand it without asking we did. Still the flour was
extremely acceptable. Bread is certainly the staff of—even Florida—life.
I expect P.A.C will astonish both you and Mother next October. It is changing—and for
the better.
You say: (In regard to nigs) “Don’t you think it a good idea to substitute some others in
their place in accordance with a suggestion in my letters to Fred and Mr. Phillips?”—
Now Fred has not noticed any such suggestion and Mr. Phillips has not signified anything
on that head. What was the suggestion? I really think we ought to have here on the place
something arranged thusly could it be so did: A small negro cabin just back of our places
and an invitation sent to some such
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bundle of nigs as John Lomond, Esther and company. To alternate their work, one week
at Freds and one week at my place. John could do the heavy out door work and Esther
the heavy indoor work such as washing and such. Fred and I could put in some of the
lighter touches and Anna and Brenda those that would come in their department. Some
such arrangement as this could be made easily enough. It is better if we can afford to get
a man and wife to get some that are accustomed to the neighborhood and will work than
to take chances with the Key Westers. Still some good ones must be get-at-able in Key
West. Brenda says that she would like such a plan vastly. And that she has no wish to
have any girl to take care of the children. The principal bother is the washings. If that
were assured she could easily get along without any other help. She is anxious to have all
the cash power possible wielded for the benefit of the producing portion outside. Besides
the children are getting sufficiently advanced in life now to be of some help to
themselves. The worst of the trouble with the children will be once when Master Harry
takes food from the natural instead of the maternal “fount” and each mouth will increase
three power to look out for themselves. The baby has commenced to creep and is about
cutting his first teeth. Phip is a mischief, but gradually becoming civilized while Freddie
has passed his 5th birthday and is becoming quite a help. Of course we expect them all to
be “children” for some time yet and to give trouble, but they will in a measure be able to
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shift for themselves as time progresses.
The water in my well has turned out bad and the same result seems to follow other
shallow wells during the damp season. At present the well water comes within two feet
of the surface, is the color of weak coffee, is also one mass of “wriglers” and only fit for
washing pots and kettles and such trash. Fred’s driving weill, however, holds out
splendidly and continues to furnish the same quality of water as it did when you were
here—with the same taste. After the rainy season is over I shall clean out the well and
hope it will be in better condition. During the rainy season we have managed to catch in
tubs and pails almost sufficient for use. A cessation of three days in the fall of rain will
generally use up our supply and then I have had recourse to Fred’s driving pump. If the
expense is not much greater I think a driving well pump and about 25 feet of pipe would
be more serviceable than the one you refer to, as we could depend on it the year round to
furnish good clear water. As it is now I can get water from the well for plant watering
purposes much faster than I could pump it up and with less waste of muscle. On the
whole I think I could manage our present well better with a bucket and good stout rope
than with a pump. If the driving well costs too much and you think it will be a little
extravagant just scratch out the other pump on your list and bring me a good stout rope
about 10 feet long. I can make that answer famously.
Fred wont need a lawn mower just yet I am afraid—but I think he wouldn’t object to a
scythe. That will be rather
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a necessary article if grass continues to grow as luxuriantly as it has since you went
north.Among serviceable things, if you can get me, add to your list a steel rake and a
couple of planters hoes. Our hoes are worn out. You might, if you could, add also a
watering pot about the size of Fred’s largest. Now I have to borrow his smaller one and it
travels back and forth as Anna or I wish to make use of it. Axes, grubbing hoes and such
we have in plenty, but a spade for digging holes of this pattern: [drawing of pointy-nose
shovel with D-shape handle] would please your humble servant immensely. Fred has one
but it is often in use.
In regard to ceilings I will measure up and let you know the situation. What I want in
addition to that already on hand won’t be much.
There are some little necessaries which I will make a list of and send you and you can get
or not as you think best.
Fred and I have often canvassed oxen and mules and we have thought much of their
varied merits: A pair of mules, with harness and all the fixins would cost us delivered at
P.G.C. perhaps at the lowest calculation $400. Bartholf offered his for $300. We can’t
discover whether his are in the market or not. Leaving out cost mules would undoubtedly
be the best animals to have for farming purposes. But—a good yoke of oxen can be got,
so De Coster says, for from $60 to $75 per yoke. They need no harness but the yoke and
are not “costive” to keep. As regards cost the oxen take the lead in our calculations.
But—(again) oxen are hard to keep within call and rather hard to manage. I doubt
whether Fred or I could “gee haw” them sufficiently to get any work out of
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them. A nigger accustomed to driving such animals could get more work out of them
than he could out of mules. Now nearly every able bodied dark down here can manage a
couple of oxen. It seems to be their nature to do so. John Lomond can! July can and I
suppose any nig we might get to work for us can. Therefore, considering that you and us
and co. can get a nig to help turn the soil of Punta Gorda Chica, both Fred and I would
vote the whole ticket and go in for oxen. They can be let out to pasture and a nig could
hunt them up when wanted. And with a nig to look after them and drive we could do as
well as with mules. Oxen in Florida have to be talked to in a different manner from that
used by northern farmers. The nig talks to the critters like a father and explains his
reasons why the animal should do this and that and enters into long conversations. They
need this constant talk and “come yer” and “what did I tole yer” and sich with the
assistance of a whip that will always touch the right spot to make them do their work
correctly. And it is this sort of business that the deacon and I don’t understand. Given a
nig on the premises oxen would be best. Without nig I suppose mules could be used to
advantage. Have I made my meaning plain? With oxen, a smaller plough would be
necessary than the one Fred has and one of the “Manatee soil breakers” to be had in Key
West. The grubbing and planters hoes would do the remainder of the business.
As to black raspberry vines I think they can be made to yield fruit
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here but not this year. The soil on Fred’s place even is not in condition for such roots. In
another year I think we can manage it well.
So far as inheriting Curry’s leg as I thought it was only a bad boil in an awkward place
that troubled me and that has finally died and left no sign. Peace to its ashes! Flaxseed
poultices cured it.
It pleases Brenda and all of us to hear that Mother is getting together goodies for Florida
use next winter. But it pleases her and all of us most to know you and Mother will be
with us.
Natty don’t expect to do much with his mill this summer, but by fall he intends to add a
planing mill and do considerable business. As Fred and I think he is backed up by
monied men in Key West they will see that he makes money out of it. He proposes
sending his lumber to Key West and storing it on George Phillips ground, making that a
sort of lumber yard, and as prices get up (as they do sometimes) then to sell. He proposes
to wait and not to take the market as he finds it. If he can so manage it he will make
money for lumber often brings as high as $28. per M. If he can send planed and seasoned
lumber he can do still better.
There I believe I have answered all your questions. Now for news.
De Coster came back from Pine Level and the grand railroad convention this afternoon.
It proved a meeting of the right sort. Some forty crackers representing the interests of
their various sections supposed to be affected by the proposed road were on hand and the
meeting was quite an unanimous
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one. Some of the crackers were ready to step aboard the cars and go on a trial trip
immediately. There were only two dissenters and they were Morgan the store keeper at
Fort Ogden and a brother store keeper from some other locality. At the former meeting
some time ago, opinions were divided almost the other way—the cattle interest opposing.
Men with large herds of cattle objected then because it would open up the country and
interfere with the pasturage of their thousands of cattle. Now the case seems altered and
nearly all favor the immediate building of the road. De Coster was elected with one or
two others to represent the feeling of the majority at some spot on in some way—I forget
now and the meeting dissolved to await events. We are all therefore immensely pleased.
Fred and George brought “the good news” and previously left my clothes for Tenah to
wash. July and 6 nigs were sitting on the wharf as they pulled up in the white boat, and
July has sent word that Tenah can’t do any more washing unless she has another tub.
Hers has “’gin out.”
And here endeth todays notes.
Punta Gorda Chica Monday August 16, 1875
Warm and quite sultry today. Ther. 92°. Squalls in the distance but none come near. No
rain.
After breakfast Baggs and I go over to De Costers taking a tub to Tenah. Mrs. D.C. sick.
Mr. D.C. implies that the good wife is troubled with one of those peculiar troubles which
married ladies often undergo where “coming events cast their shadows before.” We
found Nat at the mill playing engineer and trying to burst his boiler
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with fat pine knots. Key was superintending the sawing and four coal black nigs were
carrying and lifting lumber. Jeff Daniels “the smartest shot in these yer parts,” a white
cracker with a white soul—a la Tilton—was attending to the log department. The mill
was working rather by fits and starts. Too much steam one half hour and too little the
next. We loafed a little and in the infernal heat with little wind rowed home. But George
said never a d – n. Should he stop here a few years I think he would be quite a selfcontroller.
Just after dinner the “Bonne” hauls up mainsail for’sail and jib and works over to the
channel and around the stake preparatory to “going up the river.” Opposite our shanties
she sounds her “conk horn” and then “come to.” George boards her at this signal and
when I go over for news, Fred, George and Anna are smelling greenbacks alternately. It
proves to be the “return” from Gwynne and Phillips for the “taters” Fred sent. The West
Indies brought $1.75 and the Polanders $1.60 per bushel. His two barrels netted
somewhere about $6.40—Freds eyes which have been rather gummy since he dug them
felt better after being rubbed with the greenbacks. As I return home Fred turns to Anna
and says: “Anna take this ‘tater money and put it with the hog money.”
Punta Gorda Chica Tuesday August 17, 1875
Again the day passes without a visitation of rain. Although warm there is much breeze
and I consider it such a good working day that
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I go in for a few more potato hills. During the day I get up 110 feet and feel happy. This
in addition to chopping wood; pulling water and helping Brenda. I found roots in plenty
and chopped them up for firewood. There is very little waste of material nowadays on
our places. The roots furnish firewood; grass that is taken from paths is used for
mulching, and the tops of roots made into manure for the bananas.
The breeze kept away mosquitos and the rain did not interfere in my work. Result—
good.
Fred’s eyes have troubled him so that he could do little toward improving the land. He
has been so for a week or more. He has a sort of distemper that is quite prevalent at Pine
Level and thataway. But he has cleaned out the chicken house and prepared the way for
more eggs. It is nearly two weeks since any have been laid at all. Freddie was wishing
there was a hill to chase them up, so that they would lay.
The “St Cecilia”—salt and trading schooner came down about dark and departed for parts
unknown.
Punta Gorda Chica. Wednesday August 18, 1875
No rain again. Warm and sultry. Cant do much work for mosquitoes are awful. They
actually swarm. Besides I feel rather low down from yesterday’s pull at potatoes. We
all, at P.G.C. rather take matters easy to day. Ther. 92° and 93°.
During evening Fred and George go over to De Costers. Beef signal visable [sic] as they
start. They get back about 8 o’c with a splendid fore quarter.
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It seems that De Coster had the signal up all day and we never saw it. Anna is at our
house as “the boys” come in. I go down to wharf for news. Mosquitoes 50 to the square
foot. Afraid of the meat spoiling if kept over night Fred starts a fire and puts two roasting
pieces in the oven and enough stew for two families and half cooks his supply. We retire
as Fred’s fire makes a light through the double window.
Mosquitoes lively about the table, overhead in the rafters, and all about the bed. Such
quantities!
Punta Gorda Chica. Thursday August 19, 1875
During the night rain fell in considerable quantity. It came down powerful hard and as if
it meant business. Therefore I had no water to bring from Freds to day.
At sunrise I started fire and Brenda the biscuit. Bread fails us lately on account of yeast
cakes being no good. Fred starts his fire and the stew is started. I go over at the sound of
the bugle and bring over to our shanty a nice lot of stew (rather salt accidentally) and in
return make another trip and carry a pair of biscuit to Anna from Brenda. All uncooked
beef bad and full of worms.
A heavy shower drops upon us about half past 10 and of[f] and on we have rain during
afternoon. After dinner a most terrific storm comes upon us. We get more rain than we
wish. Mosquitoes absolutely awful. Wrapped up in a silk handkerchief visit Freds potato
beds for vines. Manage at odd moments to put in
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about 150, but it proves to be awful work. Pass the time during the rest of the day
scratching the bites. The rain seems to have started up an immense army of gallinippers
mosquitoes, sand flies, blind mosquitoes and nuisances of all kinds. They waged savage
warfare upon us all. Fred vows he will get a dispensation for all of us to say “damn.”
George replies it isn’t necessary in his case! He can accomplish it easily without.
The rains today were accompanied by much thunder and lightning and very strong wind.
Temperature low. 80° at times.
Part of this morning helped Fred dig some ‘taters—and took the best for table use.
Roast beef was our dinner dish. One of the best pieces we have yet had and just as good
as it could be. Tender, good flavor, but not juicy.
In the afternoon the 1st egg of the season is laid. Anna sends it to Brenda. 1st in 2 weeks.
Mullet are running. The first schools were noticed to day. They are good eating but are
not of sufficient size to warrant any great exertion in catching them.
Anna, Fred, and George visit us this evening. They depart in a hurry when thunder and
lightning and heavy black clouds come over the sweet spirit of conversation.
And then we go to bed.
Punta Gorda Chica Friday August 20, 1875
Of[f] and on today is an extremely rainy day, with mosquitoes in plenty.
The beef still holds out and furnishes
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two good meals. Water stands in immense pools on Fred’s place. His “pagoda” (with
three bottomless seats) is afloat. The water surrounds it. His well near it is in like
condition. In fact it is a deep hole in the center of a pond. The pigs have a small pond
also to wallow in. Nearly all his potato beds are elongated puddles. The chicken house is
high and dry and before next year Fred knows where he will dig drains. Around his
house it is dry and clean. About my place I can find no collections of water and my well
is yet a foot and a half from the surface of the ground. All is dry, on the paths and about
the house within half an hour after a heavy shower. Fred thinks and so do I that my place
is drained naturally.
Toward evening Fred shot two gators. Amid millions of mosquitoes we managed to drag
one ashore. George proposes to skin him and have the skin tanned and put into boots—
when he goes to New York.
P.G.C. Saturday August 21, 1875
The air is cool and refreshing this morning. No clouds visable [sic]. George attempts to
skin his six foot ‘gator and gives up. Fred proposes crossing at 11 o’c with letters. I add
a line or two. About 75 buzzards visit Fred’s ‘gator. The gun has started them skyward
twice since I commence writing. 40 feet of potatoes already up. Ground very moist. All
well at both houses—with exception of a looseness in Freddie’s bowels and tightness in
Freds eyelids. Baby Harry has two lower front teeth.
I will send list and amount of ceiling required by J.C. in next batch of notes.
Love to all—Ever yours Jar Vee G.A.G.
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Punta Gorda Chica
Charlotte Harbor Fla.
Sunday August 22, 1875
My dear Pa,
Yesterday George and Fred departed for the other side of the “drink” with a bag of corn
to take to the mill for grinding, and a batch of letters to leave with the “miller” —Nat—to
start upon its winding way to the north.
They succeeded in getting their grinding done and while at the mill Miss “Laura” came
down flaunting her dirty muslin in the breeze, and De Coster took charge of the letters to
put on board. Then they came across to our shore. On the way over they “spoke”
“Laura” but her answer was rather unintelligible. On landing a look through the field
glass showed Keys boat about heading for this shore with the laudable desire evidently of
addressing Miss “Laura” and putting her in stays. But the boat ran aground on the bar
and Miss “Laura” proved coquettish and kept off, bearing down on the bar and then
before De C.’s hail could reach, bearing off again toward Punta Gorda. After backing
and filling and the breeze growing brisker she quietly went in shore opposite De Coster’s
shanty and waited until the great representative of this glorious country made his way
over the bar and the 1 1/2 miles distance to the boat. Our letters went but I was afraid
D.C. would let ‘r went at one time.
During the night George saw the “Bonne” heading for Key West so our two mail boats—
one a female however have gone and we now pine for the next man who is bound for
Pine Level.
Today we have been blessed with pleasant weather, breezy at times—in fresh, most of the
time and some smart
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rainfalls. Things are becoming awfully sloppy and soggy about our plantation. I hope the
bottom wont drop out of P.G.C.
This afternoon before the storm I made a sketch of the house from beyond my potatohills but I left them out for “artistic” effect. You can see them when you come down—if
they don’t drop through.
Mosquitoes still hang about in numbers. They are most confirmed loafers—but hate the
wind. They generally hang round sheltered corners during the wind and come out boldly
after the blow is over. Then they fiercely hang round and bother. But time is passing
rapidly and mosquitoes—in quantity—will soon be things of the past.
Punta Gorda Chica Monday August 23, 1876
A splendid day for potato work. Dig in and dig up 100 feet of hill and “plant out” lots of
“West Injes.”
Rain comes in afternoon and comes with a rush. It also keeps coming during the evening.
Dem’d damp moist; wet and uncomfortable.
The ‘rainy season” is evidently at hand—and with a vengeance. Long puddles are plenty
in Fred’s potato hills; the pigs are up to their middles (if they have any) and the chickens
are dabbling in watered stocks also. It is wet all over and we might be living in a swamp
for all appearances might allow.
During this moistness of Mother-Earth it is pleasant work to go into the soggy beds for
potato vines. High grass drops moisture on your upper works, low weeds and vines
generally wet your knees, and from 2 to 4 inches of puddle tend to keep your corns from
becoming too dry. As this is not enough drawback; the
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gallinippers, in hiding, assisted by mosquitoes and sand flies start up a howl and try to
drive you away. You collect perhaps a hundred vines. Taken collectively they make a
good sized bush. This harbors mosquitoes and their big brothers the “gallies” and you are
nipped—not in the bud—but in face, ears and neck until you get to the new beds. As you
decrease your pile and a long row of green tops appear on your potato hill the mosquitoes
gradually depart and with the last vine, the last gallinipper says “good bye,” and goes
back to his old location to welcome you when you come next time. That is he goes if the
breeze compels him. If it is calm and quiet he just stops around loafs a little and escorts
you back to the house with an occasional quiet nip to remind you that he has not gone.
Fred began some potato hills today. But it was damp work. He has too much dampness
for hilling. I have just enough.
Please send us material with which to make a Noah’s Ark. The flood is at hand.
Punta Gorda Chica Tuesday August 24, 1875.
Fred discovers a banana bud on his “big bonanza.” It seems fat and thrifty looking and
will “show its hand” in a few days.
Another good potato hill day. Fred and I both dig in and up. I get in quite a line and Fred
works hard, but under disadvantages. His roots are many and his water deep.
Old “Sickisty Sickus” came up to trade from Caracosta today. He brought clams, salted
grouper
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and mullet, some few bananas, lemons and limes and waded ashore in pants and boots—
as it was low tide to “talk turkey.” Fred went out to his boat and bought for the “party”
100 clams, 40 pounds of salt fish at 5 cents per pound, two bunches of bananas, 8 lemons
and 3 or 4 pockets full of limes. Total purchase $4.00 A heavy storm, with fearful wind
and such oceans of wet put a seal to the bargain and “Sickisty Sickee” went off up river.
He finally anchored on the bar and “S.S.” and his man went under the deck of his little
sloop and let the rain pour. He passed the afternoon hiding in this way, wading across
bars and getting stuck until nightfall.
“Sickesty Sickus” is a Cuban or Spaniard who lives down on the Keys. During the
“fisheries” when mullet are lively I believe he helps and joins a school of fishermen for
the purpose of gaining filthy lucre. At other seasons he plants and improves a piece of
ground on Caracosta and sandwiches in between his plantings an occasional stroke of
business. He gets together salt fish, clams and such truck or visits the head of the harbor,
doling out his goods for “pittances.” What his name is I don’t know. He speaks very
broken English and it is pretty hard to understand him in bargaining. But he is an
excellent pantomimist and usually makes out to close a bargain satisfactory to himself—
and usually to us. I wish you could hear him count out clams: “For, et, twelav,
sickesteen, etc.” We have dubbed him “Sickesty sickes” by virtue of his pronunciation of
that number “66.”
This evening we have a treat in clam soup. Ben makes it most deliciously.
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Punta Gorda Chica Wednesday August 25, 1875
Yesterday’s shower has given Fred such a splendid chance to play “pool” today. His
place has got pool and puddle bad. The entire surface seems soggy and the pigs and
chickens have a damp place to locate in. It is rather a curiosity to see the hens scratch in
water and afterwards to see their surprised look when they don’t find any provender in
the spot. The pigs, if things keep on will have to sleep standing, and take their meals on
top of the fence. The rainy season, at last, is dropping around.
Our place still keeps dry—only at the back of the storehouse and toward the fence does
water collect in any serious puddles. All my walks are dry and solid even during rain. It
is naturally drained about the house and this may be artificially arranged on Freds place
next winter, when the cool days come.
It is cool enough here, however, the thermometer seldom now going above 85°, but fewer
mosquitoes and such and a cool norther will make digging pleasanter when the winter
days come round again. Today the air is cool wet and threatening. Rain falls at intervals
all day long and not of any heavy kind however.
Only get up 25 ft potato hills. “Plant out” near 150.
A “Grouper” furnished us a jolly good breakfast this morning. Tide was so high we
could get our apportionment of clams until afternoon and Ben put in a big lick of a dozen
at supper time to answer for that meal and breakfast tomorrow.
Fred’s “big bonanza” bud don’t increase very rapidly. Yet it is getting fatter and like a
large egg plant.
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Punta Gorda Chica Thursday August 26, 1875
Quite cool and worky kind of day. Ther. at 80° to 82°. A delightful breeze opens the day
and continues during the morning with lots of fresh invigorating air. But after dinner rain
visits us in torrents.
Freds pigs and the chickens are more afloat than ever. In fact everything back of the
“pagoda” on Freds place and over toward the S.W. corner seems inclined to be extremely
wet.
So far I am yet on the surface.
About 80 feet of potato hill rose up today in front of the house.
About 3 P.M. a couple of odd looking visitors arrive in a skiff with a ragged sail. One
proves to be old Swain and the other a queer look object with an eagle’s beak, grizzly
beard, and long, straight, black hair. This object is covered with homespun and topped
with a soft hat turned yellow by the suns of many rainy seasons. He wanted work. He
spoke up and fiercely. He could do as much work as the next man.
“Where are you from,” said the deacon.
“Columbus, Mississippi.”
“What kind of work can you do, you don’t look as if you could do a very hard days
work?” was the next question.
“I think I can do as much as any other man.” spurted out Mr. Butternut.
“What can you do?”
“Paintin’, fence making, whitewashing, plantin’.”
“But we have grubbing and root pulling and potato hilling and heavy work—mule
work—and it would be too much for you; besides we have concluded to wait until after
the rainy season is over before doing any great amount of work. I am afraid, therefore,
we cant hire any help now”
“Have you got any water that’s fit to drink?” “That in the jug is too warm.”
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A large demijohn filled with water stood in the centre of the boat—that is, a demijohn
minus the covering.
Turning to Swain the old man said: “Give me the cup and I’ll go up and see.”
“We’ve got water,” said Fred, “that is good enough for us. It may not suit you.”
“Well I’ll go up and see” and up jumped the old man on the wharf and barefooted he
walked, with Fred at his heels up the “orange walk” to the pump.
On the way Fred told me he looked about him astonished and remarked, “You’ve got a
better place than I thought you had.”
“What did you expect to find” Fred queried.
“Why, a swamp, such as they have across the “river!”
But the old curmudgeon didn’t go back quite far enough to see Fred’s “swamp.” Yet it
shows that we don’t get all the rain on our side of the bay.
The old man got his drink, brought back a cupful for Swain and off they went for Ogden,
Swain polling along shore and old Butternut, looking the picture of one of Harpers “fire
eaters,” sitting calmly in the centre of the boat gazing on an old confederate blanket and a
ditto overcoat rolled up on the skiff bottom.
Ten minutes afterward, they both disappeared in a fearful squall near the upper head, the
rain completely shutting them out and enveloping them.
An hour later we saw them heading down stream having doubtless given up the trip to
Ogden as too much of a task to accomplish.
How the rain did pour down this afternoon! It came as if all the clouds above had
collected for a grand jollification and they were
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bound to make a night of it. Down it came and still comes as bedtime approaches and I
shall turn fully expecting tomorrow to hail Fred from my double window and ask him as
a particular favor to send the skiff over for me when I go to make my morning call at the
“pagoda” —now floating at anchor in his back garden.
Punta Gorda Chica Friday August 27, 1875
How old is Em today? Give her for me “the usual compliments” and say that I hope she
will have “many happy returns of the same.”
The day opens gloomily. Rain fell at intervals during the night and still drops quietly as I
get up to make the fire. It is about sunrise but the sun is hidden. That nice little
regularity about pleasant mornings and rainy afternoons is getting slightly mixed up
nowadays. We have rain on the slightest provocation and plenty of it. It pours at times
and actually falls like a small Niagara at other times and then for a change it drizzles. We
have every variety and the result is a wet surface on the sacred soil of Florida and a
feeling occasionally in your heart that you may drop through the shaky surface.
We take clam soup for breakfast having cooked a dozen clams over night to save them.
The soup proves to be just delicious. What is left over we save for dinner and anticipate
ham with it. And that ends our own clam business. Out of 100 we get 50 good ones, the
rest sickened of the fresh water now before our places and died.
The fish still keep good. Put a
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mullet to soak at sundown and expect to haul him in in the morning.
More rain visits us this afternoon with a let up of a few hours during nooning time.
Both yesterday and today put up some hills, or rather in the two days one long hill. 130
feet long. This between houses and during the prevalence of wind. Get in quite a pile of
vines also.
George visits the other side for tobacco. He gets none. But he brings back an odd bit of
news. Yesterday Jarve Bains was arrested by the sheriff and an assistant and taken to
Pine Level on a charge of attempted murder. Who was attempted or where ------ don’t
explain. The sheriff captured Bains at Key’s or near there. Bains was stubborn and
wouldn’t budge.
“Come along,” said Mr. Sheriff.
“I’ll be d___d if I do,” said Bains. So Mr. Sheriff ties J.B. to a tree midway between
Key’s and De Coster’s and goes post=haste to the “jedge.”
He explained matters and asked the “jedge’s” advice.
The “jedge” quietly remarked, “You are sheriff and you ought to know what it is best to
do with a stubborn prisoner.”
“But, “jedge,” what would you do if you were sheriff?”
“I’d tie a rope around the niggers neck and drag him until he would come without
dragging.”
Back goes Mr. Sheriff and his assistant and soon a rope is tied around Jarve’s black neck
and his hands tied behind his back.
“Will you come now?” says Sheriff.
“No – “ positively.
The two drag him 20 feet and then let him up.
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“Will you come now?”
“No.” Still more positively.
Another drag with the rope tightened until a long red tongue protrudes about 6 inches,
and the face grows a sort of blue black. Then he is allowed time to get his wind.
“Will you come now?” again says Mr. Sheriff.
“Yes,” at last says Bains, “I’ll come peacable now.”
Along the sand he is led between Sheriff and assistant and taken in at De Costers front
yard and tied to the largest wild fig tree, while the two officers go in to dinner.
The Judge, De Coster, appears at the doorway, looks at Jarve and says, smilingly, “Well,
Bains, I never thought—I should welcome you to my yard again. I told you I’d kick you
out if I ever found you here: but this time I’ll even say I am glad to see you.” And then
as Bains made no answer—only looked into futurity and scowled—Judge D.C. dropped
into the house again and finished his dinner.
Punta Gorda Chica Saturday August 28, 1875
Rain is falling at daylight, rain falls all the morning; it continues until almost dusk, and
we’re afloat again on Punta G.C. Back in the woods, up and down at the heads, all over
the plantations water runs and stands and oozes up from the grass and drops from the
clouds. “Water, water everywhere.” With the exception of one spot P.G.C. is a huge
frog pond to day. That excepted spot is just about my house and a hundred feet toward
Fred’s from it. Even my well shows a blank of 1 ½ feet between high water and the
surface of the earth. The pigs
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in Freds pen are water soaked; the chickens bedraggled and woebegone. Melancholy
claims all for her own over there and weeps wet tears at the ravages. The path to Fred’s
is a clear running “trout brook” from 2 inches to 6 deep. The potato beds show more
elongated puddles than ever. Holes dug for orange trees are full and overflowing with
water and the many varieties of frogs noticed in the heads have suddenly appeared in full
charms all about the plantations. In front of the two houses the water drains off rapidly,
and one can always walk dry shod there, but back of both it is wet in an extreme ----.
And we see the remedy. Drain it and there will be no trouble. The potato hills in front
carry off the water without trouble. Our long potato hill or drain at the back—along the
fence—one on each side and in the middle and smaller ones running in will make our
places “waterproof” another season. Now we must grin and bear it. I can do so easily as
very little collected water stops with me. It mostly takes on squatters privileges on Fred’s
place.
The chickens seemed so much overcome with dampness that Fred and I in the rain
endeavored to drain them. We succeeded by trenching all about in getting the pond
thereabouts to locate elsewhere. Then Fred went for his pigs and made them
comfortable.
Then I waded back home and put on dry stockings and shoes.
Toward tea time as the rain ceased and old Sol poured forth some very weak rays, the
“Bonne” appeared off Punta Gorda and ran in to Platts. As she did not come up before
dark, we shall wait
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for letters until tomorrow. Then we shall know more than we know now.
As I live, and as I jot down these “few remarks” rain commences to fall again. Do you
know I really believe the “rainy season” is at hand.
At odd moments I have taken up quite a cartload of oak and pawpaw roots for firewood
today. They all came with a sucking, swashing sound from the damp ground and where
each root was taken up a small puddle of soft mud remained. Things seemed very rotten
in spots on P.G.C.
Punta Gorda Chica, Sunday August 29, 1875
There was no chance to send to you by way of Pine Level yesterday and I must wait until
next week.
How bright and beautiful the day opens. Pink clouds in the west, varied colors in the east
and the pure blue of the sky over all. Not a breath of air was stirring as I opened the
doors and looked out. From Coon Key to Platts the bay was like a mirror, without a
ripple. But massed in places were quantities of lettuce from the single-head to bunches
20 feet in diameter. The bay was about covered. And their light emerald green looked so
bright relieved against the reflected pines in the dark water. The “Bonne” with sail up lay
beyond the point waiting for a breeze and her sails were as white as milk—or seemed
so—as the deepest gray clouds of a thunder storm approaching from the west offered
such positive back ground to set them off.
As I sit down to breakfast George yells out that he is going over and “wants to know, you
know” if I want to go to
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I return a yell in effect that I will be ready in an hour, as I have to get my clothes ready
for Tenah also. This don’t suit the youth exactly, he can’t wait and away he goes over the
Charlotte Harbor mirror, sculling the old skiff in preference to waiting an hour for a
sailing breeze and my company. Well, well, there’s no accounting for the boy’s whims.
Three hours afterward the “Bonne” gets wind enough to come up from the wharf. But
Baggs comes back about the same time having heard at De Coster’s that there are no
letters or parcels.
The “lettuce” in the bay follows in the wake of the “Bonne” and with the tide and we are
told to get ready our letters for Tuesday. This I suppose means Sunday.
After dinner I titivate and don a white collar. I come in contact with a “dirt dobber” and
he spots me. By the way did you ever see one when you were a Floridian. The d.d. is a
decided curiosity and as well an intolerable nuisance. He looks like a wasp but his waist
is much longer; his little extremity being so far in the rear as be of little service for
stinging purposes. He is long waisted, long legged and long winded. His principal
business is making warts of mud on white coats, white vests, back of trunks and he even
does not hesitate to build his dirt house on the tail of a night shirt—as I found to my cost
a week ago. At intervals during the day this odd member of the wasp family will drop in
the open door way with a small pea of black mud in his mouth or “arms,” circle around
the room and suddenly disappear. Upon searching where he made himself scarce you
may find a black looking “wasp’s nest” hanging out of the way and a small pile of mud
on the floor. The “critter” so it
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seems to me, is harmless, for I never heard of anyone being stung by one yet. You take
down his little mud shanty from your white vest, night shirt or wherever it is and cast it
out of the door way. Then, perhaps, you look with dismay at the black spots left behind
and rush out to examine the nest. It is generally formed in the shape of cells about an
inch long each and in each cell a perfect mass of small spiders, neither dead nor alive, but
in a sort of chloroformed state, so rendered inanimate by the dirt dobber for the purpose
of furnishing food for the young grub worm so singly lying in its little eggs cell. These
grubs are in various stages of progression, but where the grub is small the spiders are
plenty and where the grub is large the spiders are scarce. Last week I took out over 50
small spiders from one cell.
Today I took up my white coat saved up for extra occasions. On the sleeve one “dirt
dobber” had built him a shanty; on the back three others had put up a row of three and on
the tail another had taken out pre=emption claims. The coat was very warty—and the
black spots stood out boldly after the removal had taken place. Come and see our little
dirt dobbers!
Oh this Florida is a wonderful country!
But I like it, and aside from all drawbacks, curiosities, mosquitoes, sand flies,
gallinippers, snakes, lizards, alligators, dirt dobbers and such, I fully believe in it still.
Even the rainy season don’t dampen my ardor—and when the frogs break out in
melancholy chorus in the back garden I still feel that in time we will have a good thing in
P.G.C. This, without con[-]
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sidering the chances of a railroad dropping near us and the West Indies trade going
through Charlotte Harbor to the north.
We have seen the worst of the rainy season and I can see my way out of it and to better
things than before.
If we can get some black help and some oxen or such to do the heavy dragging work I see
no reason why we cannot make our stand here with better chances of success and fewer
chances of failure than in any other opening I ever tried to fill. I feel so convinced of this
state of things that the idea of going away from it seldom enters my head and then only
when Baggs finds it such a “fearful hole.” It is home to me now and I feel that it will be
for a long while yet. Brenda likes it, with a natural hankering after an occasional sight of
home faces and Anna seems to have made up her mind to like it whether or not. Fred is
impressed the same as ever and with an abiding faith in the future and Brenda and Anna
pin their faith to our coattails and vow to see the matter out.
So put in whatever “big licks” you feel able to, help us as we help ourselves, and we will
endeavor to make all ends meet in success when in due time things grow up about us and
our income increases—or rather over tops our outgo.
The weather this morning was cool for the season and with no breeze, as I said before, up
to 11 o’c, then the wind came from the westward. After dinner it clouded up and
threatened all the afternoon, with squaly [sic] clouds hanging over every point of the
compass. Occasional drops fell, but old Jupiter
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Pluvius thought we had plenty and forbore. A slight fall occurred during the evening, but
it was not a very wet fall.
Punta Gorda Chica Monday August 30, 1875
More pleasant weather, with slight breezes. More lettuce and less of threatening clouds.
The potato beds are drying up; the water is sinking into the ground and the bottom has
not yet dropped out of P.G.C.
Fred and I went over to the mill and to De Coster’s this morning; he for pigs and I to take
over two weeks washing. We took the skiff and Freddie and it took us nearly all the
morning to make the trip. Fred tells me that small fish an inch long are sailing about in
his mud puddles.
A slight shower in afternoon. Very slight.
Punta Gorda Chica Tuesday Aug 31. 1875.
Get up my lumber list. You will find it enclosed. The finishing of the piazza the only
real necessity. I don’t expect more unless you feel like adding more. Happiness is
enclosed as it is. Comfort will come in time. I merely did as you directed: -Put it all
down.
All well today. “Bonne” expected momentarily.
No rain until evening. The rain that fell last week rapidly sinking in the ground. Puddles
becoming non est and the surface dry again. No frogs heard during twilight.
Punta Gorda Chica Wednesday Sept 1. 1875
Windy and threatening. The Bonne appears at noon. I hurriedly finish up notes as you
see. We are all well and anxious to see you.
With much love from all to all.
Ever etc.
Jarvis G.A.G.
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Punta Gorda Chica
Charlotte Harbor Fla.
Thursday September 2, 1875
My dear Pa,
After all our hurry to catch the “Bonne” yesterday we were deceived by the coming of the
“Sainted Maria” instead. She had a hunting party on board and was bound nowhere in
particular as near as we could find out and therefore we had to hold our letters over until
today.
Fred and George made out to get the letters over the water, this morning, and left them at
De Costers. Nat was at Pine Level, after more oxen—and some tobacco. Mrs. D.C.
promised to have the letters put on the “Bonne,” however, when she came. This she did
just after dinner. With a pretty fair breeze the “Bonne” hove in sight as we were taking
our noon meal and I was astonished to see the skiff propelled by George, and Fred
standing on the front, heading her off as she was passing. She luffed and the boys
boarded her. Afterwards I found that they merely went out to ask for a piece of tobacco.
It was rather “cheeky” to say the least but we had’n’t had a smoke for two days and we
were all hard up. Fred got enough from Pepi to last us all three days, and the boat passed
on with her load of cattle for Key West. When near Platts Point she luffed again and the
letters were put on board.
Enough rain fell today to fill my nearly empty tubs and receptacles for rain water. But
not sufficient to add any dampness to soaked nature as far as the surface of P.G.C. is
concerned. The puddles have all disappeared on the place—even in the potato beds—but
off in the woods the ponds are full yet.
Manage a few potatos, but the mosquitoes drive me off my beat and I can’t “hoe for
Florida” until to morrow.
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For the past few days we have been feasting on guavas—per kindness of Mr. and Mrs. De
Coster. As De Coster says: “Come over next week and get a boatload and keep coming
every day for we shall have plenty of them,” we think we shall in time get a surfeit of
them. They taste deliciously and much like fine flavored peaches, now they are
seasonable.
The mosquitoes fairly howl around me tonight and I wont give more than absolute facts.
So, as the French say: “Bourbon Soir.”
Punta Gorda Chica Friday September 3, 1875
There is a slight “let-up” concerning mosquitoes this morning—but enough for all
“practical purposes.”
Potatoes still the stock most sought for on “our plantation.” Fred speculates in them to a
slight extent and I ditto. Put up about 50 feet before noon and then give up in
anticipation of letters. For –
The “Laura” comes in taking 3 hours after sighting to do it, leaves her messages at De
Costers and goes up the river.
The weather up to noon is warm and yet not so warm as in the extreme days. Little wind
disturbs the harbor and no wet threatens to drop.
After dinner, however, there is a chance breeze and several threatening clouds. The sky
becomes almost fully overcast and as the breeze freshens George and I take the skiff and
sail gently over the little waves and bump over the big ones to De Costers. There we find
letters from home. I get two from you, one dated Aug 6. and the other Aug. 13. I get one
from Mother dated Aug 6. and one from Clay the dentist asking for his little William!
Brenda gets one from her Mother and two from Minna. One of Minnas has an inscription
on the opposite side to that which holds the direction, in pencil, and thusly:
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“Aug 12. 1875. Picked up on broadway N.Y., in front of 328 by C.G. Kimberly Branford
Conn.
and mailed ---if it does thee good let’s hear from thee” ---In quoting the above I give it without any correction in orthography. Brenda thinks of
opening a correspondence with Kimberly, just to pass away time!
There were papers from New York and Key West. The “Key of the Gulf” gives “Friend
Howard,” and his 8 pound potato, the benefit of a complimentary notice and “Friend
Howard at Charlotte Harbor, who has deserted the ‘quill’ for agricultural pursuits” is well
pleased. There is also reference made to the new railroad from facts furnished by “our
friend F.W.H.” In each the comments are pointed and pleasing.
Your later letter is, in a measure, an antidote to the former, but I am sorry to hear of your
feeling so “low down,” Pa. Don’t worry so much about us down here. But that is rather
a foolish thing for me to say. What I mean is don’t let our troubles and botherations
make you down hearted. I am getting to be quite a Mark Tapley myself and believe there
is some credit in being jolly among mosquitoes and sich—as long as no serious troubles
come over us. At present we are all well and as busy as bees, anticipating much pleasure
this winter in having you and Mother with us. We cant starve in Charlotte Harbor as long
as mullet and sweet potatos are plenty and both will begin to show up soon. Besides
something pleasant is turning up always when the clouds are darkest. I am digging in
every day, as much as my “weak nature” will allow and stowing away potato vines, in the
pleasing hope that something will come of it before
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long and Fred is arranging his orange and lemon orchard with chances of future
prosperity. He expects to do much with his pigs and is laying out many sweet potatoes
and vines and things trusting in time to pass them through a new sort of assay and turn
them into greenbacks. On the principal of counting a hog as worth from $8 to $9 clear
after being held up before a Key West audience, with 10 hogs to go through the
operation, he will have from $80 to $90. And so with 20 hogs, the double of that. I shall
do a little hog business, but rely on sweet potatoes for additional lucre. The chickens
may bring us in some little profit, but I doubt it much this year. Other things may show
up during the winter. If necessary we can let the house run on as it is another year,
merely finishing the piazza. I can use up what lumber I have, and make it appear to have
changed for the better. There wont be any carpenters bills to pay—that is for additional
work as I shall do it all myself. Brenda and I are ready to push the things along on an
economical basis in any event and trust to the future to give us more independence.
With the coming of cooler weather we shall expect more real pleasure in living and be
free from little drawbacks of illness, always dropping about when children can’t be
looked after quite as closely—they might be where the mothers every moment is not
taken up. The baby managed to bring in a couple of teeth a week or two since and two
more are about to appear. He is well and takes care of himself now by the hour. Philip is
a buster and not so mischievious as he was. He is thoroughly healthy. Freddie since his
dysentery has changed wonderfully
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He is getting to be fat and hearty and weighs nearly 10 pounds more than before he was
taken sick. He can talk the tail off of a cast iron monkey! I never heard such a fellow to
gabble and he makes hourly trips as a sort of mail rider between Freds house and ours
every day from 8 A.M. to 6 P,M. He is as good as a telegraph. Brenda has adopted a
new fashion: Her head is clean shaven and a very bare poll indeed: You may see her
figure head in one of the Kinderhook store windows where the sign at the door reads
“Fashionable millinary.” She is pretty well nowadays, but troubled quite frequently with
nervous headaches and beastly backaches. Otherwise she takes to Florida life quite
naturally.
I hope, however, you will succeed in making your arrangements as you wish as it will
make us more comfortable and you also in the thought that we all are so. Still we are
ready to take the world as we find it, trust some to luck, trust more to ourselves
(including the “P.M.” of course) and a great deal in Providence to make things come out
all right in the end.
I have written you all sorts of matter, with the main idea of keeping you posted on Florida
matters, concerning ourselves individually, the weather, plants, trees and climate and
given whatever has struck my fancy as new or odd or knowable. Of course, with so
much matter there must be some chaff, but I hope you have picked out a few kernels of
good wheat. At the same time in speaking of ourselves I have not intended to complain
of anything disagreeable in our Florida experience or to express any undue hankering
after
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the fleshpots of Egypt. But something may have crept in. I am not so good at that sort of
statement writing as either Beecher or Tilton. I merely mention this to say that I am still
devoted to P.G.C. and am going to stick the thing out if it takes 10 years and see if energy
and perseverance cant make a good show before that time comes round.
You ask me if I have written to Mr. Deans yet. I hav’n’t, but I will soon.
The lumber is in good condition and well seasoned—so far as we can judge—that is, the
lumber down on the beach.
You seem to be having a rainy season of your own up north. How are the skeeters. I see
that the little pest gets editorial mention in the New York Times and Minna writes that
Westchester is hardly enjoyable for them. I notice that 50 boarders left a hotel near New
York because mosquitoes were so bothersome. So they are not all in Florida! I began to
feel so this afternoon when Fred, Bags and I went out ½ a mile in the woods back of us to
hunt up lightwood. A brisk wind was blowing as we went out. Then thunder announced a
storm. Then the wind lulled and came out in a new quarter and just as we filled up the
cart with junks of solid pitch pine, rain poured down on our devoted backs with
fierceness. Then it let up and it seemed as if each individual drop had been translated
into a mosquito. On Fred’s back they were about 40 to the square inch. In fact without
any enlargement of fact they fairly and positively covered the back of his rubber coat. It
beat any thing I have yet seen. And we all had enough of these “creeters” before we
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reached the dumping place. As we neared the “plantation” the strong breeze drove them
off but they were pretty thick before the breeze struck us. This evening they howl and
pipe their little horns with most infernal ecstacy [sic] as I try to write with comfort.
(Ahem! Comfort!) under the shadow of the green shade of my student lamp.
The great “Peace Creek Navigation Scheme” has’nt come to a head yet. Not rife enough,
I suppose. And Natty won’t let me in! Shall we blow on him?
So you will leave Oct 30 to come to this “Italy of American.” We all wish you a “bon
voyage” and a quick one. George is ready to meet you, either in K.W.—or N.W. What
steamers will leave on Oct 30? I wish we had a small schooner that we could take to go
to K.W. for you.
In regard to the Staten Island lots I will make enquiry and let you know what can be
done. Perhaps Brenda can give you an absolute power of attorney and with that you can
sell or transfer the lots as may seem best.
Should one wish more lumber (now that you ask the question) I think it would be cheaper
at $35 per M dressed tongued and grooved, than at $18 per M at the mill here in the
rough and unseasoned. What do you think of De C’s plan of a planning mill, and his
mode of acquiring it?
And now I must turn in!
Punta Gorda Chica Saturday 4, 1875
Today we devour mosquitoes for a change in return for them having devoured us for so
long a time. We breathe mosquitos also for variety, fresh air however being abundant
too. They fairly make P.G.C. hazy. Such quantities! To day they fairly distance their
own
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deviltry. Brenda gets breakfast and dances a horn pipe around the stove. I, covered with
gore and mosquito salve build the fire, collect wood for the day and endeavor to put up
some hills. The pests take me in eyes ears and nose until I can’t tell whether I am making
a grave yard or seeking a fortune in a potato hill. They hang around in shady spots and
dart at you when you pass by. In fact they fill the air to the tune of 100 to the cubic yard
in any direction. I cover all but my eyes and mouth and nose with a handkerchief and
through rain and mosquitoes cut potato vines and plant them. I transfer about 100 or so
and consider myself happy. My nose looks afterward like a toper’s and I feel itchy about
the “gills.”
Rain falls all day, in a dreamy, don’t care,“sort of a way. It lets up occasionally and then
begins again preferring its greatest fall to be recorded in the afternoon. This rain drives
the mosquito indoors and he likes the location for he stays on until dark and has no calls
to make elsewhere. From indications now made, as I write, he intends to stop all night
and perform on his little trumpet sweet serenades until morning for our special benefit.
So I must go and prepare for him.
Punta Gorda Chica Sunday Sept 5, 1875
Such a lovely day. Warm but breezy. Very few mosquitoes break in upon our enjoyment
and the day passes quietly and comfortably.
During the morning Fred tells me that the “big bonanza” has shown its “hand.” It is not a
“flush,” but quite a “full” one. This “hand” shows six fingers and thinking
[Pages missing from 169-176 (original numbers), as renumbered from 172-179. Missing
pages for transcription for 1875 forward found within photocopies for 1876; original
numbering 169- 176, new numbering 172-179.]
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perhaps you might like to see what a banana bud looks like. I went over after dinner and
sketched it. The bud shoots directly up from the center of the stalk, preceeded [sic] by a
stunted leaf. When fully visable [sic], like a lightning rod butt pointing skyward it is
about 7 or 8 inches long, of a deep purple color and each leaf of the bud clinging closely
to the cone. Suddenly one of the purple curtains will roll up like the seed of a “lady
slipper” and the hand is visabel [sic]. This hand is sometimes double and is composed of
a row of baby bananas. Each little banana is topped off with a pretty little white flower,
placed upon it much like an elongation of the fruit itself and of the oddest imaginable
shape. The bud by this time becomes top heavy and gradually bends over and points to
the earth, and the bananas in succession hands, according to the vigor of the plant throw
off the purple curtains, show up and grow into luscious fruit. Fred says my sketch is very
correct. So you can judge how the bud breaks and looks. [Sketch of banana bud,
flowers, and part of leaves.]
We have more “gorvers” —as they call them over the bay—today, and they are quite
delicious. Brenda stewed some like apples and they [last line(s) partially cut off on
photocopy]
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After dinner Brenda went over to call on “our neighbors; Freddie followed; then Phip
went and finally baby Harry and I closed up shop and went too. We all congregated
down on the beach in the shadow cast by the thatched boat house and enjoyed life greatly
until almost dark. Then twilight, mosquitoes and gallinippers; dropped upon us and we
went home.
There was no rain today.
Punta Gorda Chica Monday September 6, 1875
The “Big Bonanza” does so some more. During the night the purple curtain was again
twitched up and 8 more bananas a jolly “full” hand are exposed to=day. They are in
double lines this time and each baby banana has its night cap on. The bud seems still
capable of doing so once more but you can’t most always sometimes tell about these
things. I also took a half hour after dinner and sketched the new phase of the banana
business. Should any thing new turn up tomorrow “our artist” will be on the spot to
record. [Sketch of banana bud, flowers, and part of leaf.]
Potato hills increase today 50 feet.
Calm morning. A slight shower at 4 o’c P.M. visits us and the remainder of the day is
warm and “mosquitery.”
Guava pie was the novelty today. Brenda made it and it was prime.
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Punta Gorda Chica Tuesday September 7, 1875
The “Big Bonanza” remains in statu [sic] quo with a general enlargement of the bud only
and no additions or changes.
The “Laura” appears suddenly about dinner time. Every thing is head over heels in the
kitchen and I have no time to get out and board her. Fred and George ditto. She passes
us and finally pulls up at De Costers and takes in all sail. Fred and George eat their
dinner and go over, finding out from the Captain that she wont sail until Friday. He
merely came down from the fever country up the river—where every body seems to be
down with it—to get a little change of air. They learned also that Williams of the mill
was “down with the fever” and had gone into hospital at De Costers. Poor De Coster!
He furnishes an asylum for deaf and dumb persons; poverty stickers [sic] mortals who are
homeless and supperless; the sick, hat and blind and all out of pure kindness of heart—
and a little sort of notion that one of these days he will sit in the senate chamber of his
adopted state and make laws to govern the growth of citric fruit at Charlotte Harbor and
elsewhere. But D at is [sic] a good hearted man really and will deserve such a lot should
it fall to him.
70 feet of potatos pile up today. And the weather still remains damp enough for
“making.” I would like to get on faster, but the hot sun and mosquitoes “make my blood
boil” often, and I have to make frequent rests.
Several days ago I placed on brackets on either side of my double window two Parisin [?]
marble statuettes—one of Shakspeare [sic] and the other of Burns. Master Phip remarked
yesterday on noticing them particularly: “Nair Pop Pop and nair Garmer Ree.” His
memory is still good.
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To day I visited the chicken coop with Fred to hold a post mortem examination on two
chickens found murdered this morning. One was lame and could’n’t roost high and the
other was young and had’n’t become a “roaster” [or rooster?] yet. We found footprints of
an animal between and [sic] rat and a possom [sic] and adjourned without agreeing on a
verdict. The entrails of one were carried away and the other had a hole in its head and
brain sucked out. While there Fred showed his reason for stating that the hens wouldnt
lay until the rainy season was over. By placing his hand in a hen box a perfect swarm of
mosquitoes arose with a decided buzz and immediately went back again. Each box was
in the same condition.
George was shooting along shore this afternoon and he says that a hundred feet beyond
the fence he counted the footsteps of a herd of deer that had visited the spot last night.
He makes out 10 deer and one fawn! And yet we have no venison.
In the house this evening mosquitoes are bouyant [sic] and lively and play the same old
tune which seems to be rather (!) monotonous. There is no doubt that this summer we are
to have a good dose of them. Last year with an earlier rainy season they had all departed
before the 1st of September. But we’re easy yet!
Punta Gorda Chica Wednesday September 8, 1875
It is a fact, bearing no dispute, that there are hills in Florida. —potato hills. And I can
bear witness to the fact. By night fall I put up 80 feet more and got in a few vines. And
still the
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work goes bravely on. I am afraid I shall feel lonesome when the stopping time comes.
All the vines I have planted seem to grow nicely and there is a first rate promise of ‘taters
to follow. You may have some when you come down that have been planted and
“growed” artistically. Speaking of such things I came across the original spider today in
the potato hills—the same old settler that must have sat down beside “little Miss Muffit.
and frightened Miss Muffit away.” I sketch him on the spot and here he is life size
without any exageration: [sic]
[sketch of spider, about 3 inches by 4 inches]
Pretty, is n’t he? When I first unearthed him I thought of sending for Baggs and the gun
and trying to deceive him by stating that it was a deer. But I thought better of it and took
his portrait instead.
No rain fell to-day. Thermometer got up again to 93° at 3 o’c and the lovely breeze cut
off its bad effect. But sandflies
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put in quite a “lick” of torments. Fred appeared among his new graves (short potato hills
he is putting up) with blue mosquito netting wrapped around his head. He kept off flies,
but his new made graves did not appear so regular as usual. We now think of dubbing
Fred Sexton instead of Deacon. What do you think? Near the outlet of our path he has
just put up 8 hills, side by side, varying from 6 to 8 feet in length. The headstones are not
up yet. Next winter Fred will make a forcing garden—a sort of hot bed at this spot.
This afternoon the “Laura” started for up river. The tide was strong and wind ahead and
she therefore from noon until after dark furnished a pretty moving figure to the lonely
land and water scape visable [sic] from our front piazza.
The moonlight shows a dim object gradually passing by as I prepare for rest.
Mosquitoes tonight not so much of a torment indoors.
Punta Gorda Chica Thursday September 9, 1875
Fred’s bugle sounds at daylight and as I jump out of bed and put my head out of the door
way I see the sails of the “Bonne” at Platts wharf just as Fred shouts “Sail ho!” I throw
on my “fixins,” start the fire, take care of baby while Ben gets breakfast sit down to our
matin meal at ¼ to 7 o’c and get at the ‘taters by ¼ past. Fred also is glued to the hoe
handle and pitches in right royally at the same time.
But the morning passes and noon time comes and still Capt. Pepi holds on at Platts
Point—and why? Swain’s daughter, who was anxious some time ago to occupy the
position of maid of all work at our shanty, is the attraction and as she wears a red flannel
jacket, yellow flannel
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petticoat and some other color, I suppose, elsewhere, her attractive powers are immense.
She has a mother. This mother is a buster. When old Swain left her bed and board and
went down on “the keys” to strike out for himself a new line of business Ma Swain was
mad. And when Pa Swain happened up this way on a visit she went for that “heathen
chinee” and gave him a most fearful thrashing and forbid him going back to the lower
harbor. The old gentleman has been as quiet as a lamb ever since. She, Ma Swain, is an
old Tartar.
The “Big Bonanza” rolled up another purple curtain today—but did not show any
bananas. The nightcaps were there but the babies were not. The little flowers shown
today are similar to those on the bananas previously “handed” up, but there is not the
faintest shadow of more fruit. As usual this being a new phase of banana growth I sketch
it. [Sketch of banana bud, flowers, and part of leaf.] But the change is hardly perceptable
[sic] having occurred on the other side of the bud. The next curtain will roll up on this
side and then I will have a better chance to show how the “thing” gets on.
Put in about 40 feet of potatoes, as far as hill was concerned and planted about 80 vines.
Thermometer 92° today.
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The “Bonne” gets up to De Costers at 3 o’c. George went over previously, took De
Coster’s horse and rode down to Platts, saw the “Bonne” leaving and turned about and
roade [sic] back again. He got the letters after boarding “Bonne” and in half an hour
thereafter we were being entertained by the contents.
I received Mother’s dated Aug 20. and your’s of same date. Fred and Baggs also get
letters. We all feel a little low down at the prospects—ie, the chance that Mother may not
come down with you on Oct 30. I hope, most sincerely, that nothing will prevent such a
culmination to our anticipation as her visit with you. We are all looking forward to it
with so much pleasure. I am afraid George has had a good deal to do, aside from other
matters; with Ma’s change. She need have no fear, however, of that young man going
away from P.G.C. next winter, providing there is no home for him to loaf in except the
home that Fred has tried to make comfortable for him here. Although I would’n’t say so
to Mother I think George has acted in a very unbrotherly and mean manner in trying to
create trouble by sending false impressions of life here to his mother. He has been
treated with most generous consideration by Brenda and Anna and by Fred and me.
Brenda and I have talked to him at various times, quietly and with all proper regard for
his feelings and he has thanked us both for what advice was given. Anna has done
everything she could and Fred has tried to act toward him as he promised you he would.
But until 3 weeks ago George has tried every possible means to annoy Fred and Anna,
behaving like a crazy person in the hope, that Fred would say something that he could
distort into a threat or wish that Fred wished him
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to leave his house and go and always without the result he has desired. Fred promised
you to be a brother to him and put up with his eccentricities and I did likewise and we
have both managed to keep our words. George has no desire to work and earn “his daily
bread by the sweat of his brow” in New York. He wants to get home in Kinderhook and
settle down to the accomplishment of the same hard life he is following here—as he puts
it. The letters received 3 weeks ago stating positively that Mother and you were coming
seemed to take his breath away. He was as “mad as “hops” and I suppose then, even,
wrote some terrible accounts of things that may have (not) occurred. It was a “stinger” as
it removed his home location and he hadn’t courage enough to try his luck in New York
or any where else without his mother to run to in case of accident. Therefore he settled
down quietly to stop at P.G.C.—even all winter—and made various arrangements for his
winters pleasure—not work—and just as his mind is made up, he sees another chance to
get away, and he is again George Baggs Howard. Well, I surely have nothing to say
against George. He is good hearted at times and can make himself very agreeable—but
he won’t. There is no spot when he can “loaf” to such good advantage to himself as he
can here—except it may be at Kinderhook—and by being pleasant and agreeable and
taking matters rationally he can enjoy himself here fully as well as he can anywhere.
Don’t alter your plans on George’s account. Although he may vow to do fearful things,
such as shipping before the mast, and running off on foot to New York, he don’t intend to
do any thing of the sort. Should Mother come to Charlotte Harbor Baggs will stop next
winter without doubt. “That is the kind of hair pin, he is.”
Old Curry is all “hunker” —No hurry!
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Brenda says, “tell ‘Granpop’ that I am ready to go on as I have been doing, if it will be of
advantage to all concerned; to do the best I can and try to make my part of the work
dovetail that of the rest of you.” Also, “You need not bother about any nurse=girl for the
children, or any other. As long as my washing is attended to and I get that done, I shall
be contented to do the best I can for the general good.”
It was George’s knife—his hunting knife that was “dove” after at the wharf. He got it, all
right.
I am going over to De Costers tomorrow to find out about the Staten Island lots. Will
write soon after and state what can be done.
Glad you like the “picters.”
Ben and I and the children are all supplied with necessary clothing for next winter.
Thanks for your offer.
I may send you a small list of things you may get for us, by the Bonne. Little
needcessities of other kinds.
P.G.C. Friday
it is extremely warm today and the sun hurts. No rain seems likely to fall. The “Laura”
is to come down today and I am going over with Fred to look up the legal prospects of
the S.I. lots and post our letters.
I commenced at the ‘taters about ½ past 7 o’c but the sun squelched me on the 40th foot.
And now trusting to hear good news from you next time and promising to make good use
of whatever comes and with love to Mother and Em
Believe me
Ever yrs.
Jar Vee G.A.G.
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Punta Gorda Chica
Charlotte Harbor, Fla.
Saturday September 11, 1875
My dear Pa.
Yesterday I closed up rather a long rigmarole on Florida matters and with Freds help
carried it over to De Costers after tea. We did propose going after dinner but it was too
beastly warm and Fred’s eyes could’n’t altogether stand the glare.
We found Squire De Coster just come home from the mill, smelling a most rank smell of
damp pine sawdust and tired and hungry. We stopped awhile took tea with him and came
away about 9 o’c with a kettle full of “garveis,” two bottles of milk and six cocoanuts!
These latter came from Mr. Phillips in Key West and were preceeded [sic] by six more
the day before.
As we came ashore on P.G.C. mosquitoes 40 to cubic foot met us and gave a loud voiced
welcome. As I walked over the circumbendibus after drawing the white boat up a grand
ovation was given me, and kept up with uproarious piping, until I shook myself like a dog
and slammed the door to on entering the “cottage.” I hurriedly undressed and hopped
under the netting. There I found, contrary to expectation about 100 of these Florida imps
open mouthed and with bills sharpened awaiting me. The lamp was lighted and by its
“brilliant rays” I went for these “heathen Chinees” and busted their individual gizzards.
Just before getting in I looked long and anxiously for certain visitors who have left
footprints in the sand on my beach. I gazed from the windows until my legs were warm
from mosquito bites and gave up. For you must know that last night and the night before
several deer have moved along the water front of my domain and their tracks were
plainly seen.
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But after dark the mosquitoes are rather too thick and troublesome for a “fellow” to
undertake hunting, even with the chance to shoot a deer. But I saw the “Bonne” going
up.
At De Coster’s I made enquiry about transferring real estate. It can only be accomplished
by Brenda giving you a power of attorney to transfer the lots and this I will arrange when
Bartholf comes down next week, as he then expects to. Bartholf is a notary and he can
draw up the power of attorney, have Brenda execute it and then take it back to Pine Level
and attach his seal and mail it at the same time. No one knows how to draw up such an
instrument at Charlotte Harbor and there are no blanks obtainable. De C. will bring
Bartholf over when he comes.
Today we have a visitation of warm weather and no rain. The ground seems dry again—
particularly on the surface and mosquitoes have let up quite considerable since last night.
I put up a few potato hills and so did Fred but it was too warm and sultry to do much.
Toward afternoon a breeze freshened up matters finely and Brenda counted over her dirty
linen and I washed over my two dirty boys finding them, Freddie particularly under a fine
coating of P.G.C. mud.
Poor little Phip has been ailing for a day or two and don’t seem like himself. Perhaps in a
day or two more he will come out all right.
To day we are feasting on more “garvers.”
Punta Gorda Chica Sunday September 12, 1875
A lovely day greets us at daybreak (?) and continues to be lovely until after dinner. Rain
then visits terra firma and makes it terra shakes: again, but not to such a fearful extent as
some weeks ago. The tubs get filled and I manage
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the water department with more success than during droughts. But this morning the
weather is delightful—or rather was. The breeze that brought the sun up blew freshly and
made the atmosphere give the lie to the thermometer, which latter instrument seemed
fibbing in marking off 88 and 90 when it appeared to be really about 70.
The schooner”Santa Maria” went up river today with her load of “gallant” hunters. What
luck? Don’t know.
Mosquitoes only from fair to middling.
Started to sketch the Big Bonanza again but found nothing new to record. The bud
unfolds a new set of flowers every other day and the stem grows gradually longer. These
little nightcaps fade and drop off and the big purple plummet gets lower and lower. The
two “hands” of embryo fruit grow slowly; as yet they look quite insignificant.
Master Phip is still “ailing,” looking pale and thin and no longer entitled to the nom de
Florida of “Brown Phip.” De Coster says that it is only a little trouble that children often
have during the “heated term” and gradually wears away.
Punta Gorda Chica Monday September 13, 1875.,
Such a glorious day. A breeze of sufficient force to take your hair off blows all the
morning. As none of us have any hair it don’t trouble us in that respect. But it blows in
the most jolly kind of a manner. Don’t we all enjoy it? Jess so!
After breakfast Fred and George depart rapidly in the skiff for Natty’s. They go for
“Easter” to do some washing “over to the other house.” They get Easter and a “soueaster” coming back. Such a vicious blowing up as Old Boreas gives them! Easter gets
wet, Fred gets soaked and George as steersman finds his sitdown
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dem’d damp, moist, and unpleasant. Young “Gopher” —Geo. Wash. Lomond, etat. 2. —
takes to the bottom of the skiff and becomes a “rolly=polly” and it is only by good
management on George’s part that the skiff is not swamped. But they do get ashore and
“Easter” and “Gopher” go for the kitchen curtseying to me as she passes. Anna asks
Easter if she got wet. “Oh, not much, Mrs. Howard, only the tail of my frock.”
The “Bonne” came down “a skiting,” —as George called it—toward noon. She put in at
De Costers and, I suppose, took our letters, as the “Laura” which we expected to come
last Friday has not yet appeared. But at dusk we still see the sails of the “Bonne” behind
Platts Point and imagine Captain Pepi has stopped to say a long farewell of linked
sweetness before continuing his voyage.
Potato hills come up smiling this morning. The wind does away with mosquitoes and we
find the sun quite mild and bearable. Yet with the weather seeming at 70° we find Fred’s
thermometer at noon striking easily the 88° mark.
Lost an hour this morning digging 10 potatoes. The late unpleasantness in the damp state
of P.G.C. seems to have turned the sweet potatoes back to earth again. It is hard work
digging for them among weeds and grass seven feet high and worse still not to find any.
Mem: “no potatoes after the rainy season until the middle of October and 1st of
November.” This I judge from practical results. In nearly every hill (or foot of it) I
would find the rotted remains of big fellows and at the same time little ones just sprouting
from the roots of the old vine.
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Punta Gorda Chica Tuesday September 14, 1875
For a change during this changeable season we have a dreary rainy dismal day. The sun
does not rise and we have only faint indications of his setting. Rain falls all day and
mosquitoes buzz as a dismal accompaniment. But this rain seldom comes in torrents
strong preferring to drizzle and gently bedub the moist earth. Through the “let ups,”
when the clouds would cover the sky with a “leaden hue” and the rain would only
threaten to fall we could get occasional glimpses of the Bonne’s sails still below Platts
and each and all have concluded that Pepi is in Love’s Coils so deeply that he wont trip it
to Key West for some time yet. And all our letters are on board! Such is life in Florida.
“Easter” dabbles in dirty linen across the potato beds, visable [sic] from our windows and
little Gopher—with the ground itch—sits on the -----floor of Fred’s kitchen whimpering
and scratching.
Freddie makes his trips to “Unks” between the rain drops and entertains Anna, as she sits
in her dining room sewing, with wonderful sketches of schooners of marvelous shapes
and peculiar sails. Fred makes a dab at potato hilling occasionally and gives up when the
rain gets to wet. George sits in the steamer chair reading Chas Lever most of the day and
taking his meals as they regularly came round, not forgetting his regular 11 o’c rum and
sugar. In this latter regularity we all join. (A gallon of this delectable fluid we coaxed up
from Key West a short time ago and divided into their equal parts for our stomach sake at
intervals.)
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On our side of the line Brenda gets through her daily work, with as much help as I can
give her and little Phip looks mournful and frets the day away. The baby is one of the
happy mortals and he sits in his little chair rocking back and forth and once in great while
rocking too far and going over on his little nozzle. But this latter feat he don’t repeat
very often however. I manage to “plant out” about a hundred potato vines, get devoured
by mosquitoes and finally subside in to loafing the day away. It proves to be a sort of
dies non to all except “Easter” and she makes her little stipend by dabbling in soap suds.
This evening mosquitoes are fearful and they make Rome howl.
I must away and hie me to the canopy over my little bed and so “Good night.”
Punta Gorda Chica Wednesday September 15, 1875
The day opens well, with a clear sky and no prospect of rain. But toward 3 o’c this
afternoon rain comes and its course in the old fashioned lively way in downright earnest.
A little slower only, but it is astonishing sometimes how much rain can fall in a short
time in these parts.
Easter gets through her two days washing at noon. After dinner she and “Gopher” and
Fred and George strike a her line for De Costers Wharf and get there safely and get back
before the rain.
They learn that the “Bonne” is only “down the bay” after firewood and that she will go
up the river and go out again on Saturday for Key West. The great city of Key West is
overloaded with cattle and when the Bonne left did not want any
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there for 15 days. Therefore the cattle trade being at a standstill the “Bonne” holds over
until Saturday.
The “boys,” of course, brought back some “garvers” and we feast again on Florida fruit.
They have (the fruit) most excellent effect on our digestive apparatus and keep us regular
in many respects.
While Fred and George are off and before they go I get up a few more feet of potato hill
and find yesterday’s rain has done considerable toward making it feasible. But when you
start a hill a hundred and eighty feet long it seems such a fearful distance to the other end.
Mullet give the go by to us nearly every day now, but not in sufficient numbers to make it
an object for us to go for them as a matter of business. George and I took the skiff and
tried to snare some today, but they were too lively for “Munkle” George who did the net
throwing business while I poled.
Munkle George, Munkle Fred and Manty Anna are terms applied to certain individuals
across the potato beds by “our nevvy” Freddie.
To day we noticed the first ducks of the season. They looked quite natural. How about
those decoys?
Mosquitoes quite “just chipper and sassy” to night.
Punta Gorda Chica Thursday September 16, 1875
Today we have yesterday repeated as far as weather is concerned.
Fred and George take the “old sow” over to De C.’s to make the acquaintance of a new
arrival at the Judges shanty. Said arrival being a fine specimen of the genus porcine.
Then they row —
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or rather, sail back again with a very slight wind bringing more “garvers.”
Anna during their absence makes a visit on Brenda and the two feminines talk over all
manner of gossip for a couple of hours. The boys come and yell. I go over to the wharf,
and get a bag of clean clothes from across the water, Fred and George bring another and
they both see Anna home. Mosquitoes rampant.
The moonlight from the just rising full moon glinting almost horizontally through the
pines and bunch of palmettos, and the green shaded student lamp and yellow lighted
upper windows of our shanty make light enough to show a very pretty picture combined
together as I approach “our home” after going over to Fred’s for a couple of “gowers” for
Ben to “top off” with before going to bed.
Punta Gorda Chica Friday September 17, 1875
A heavy rain shower gets me out of bed before daylight. I close windows and make fast
doors, hunt for leaks and find none, wait for the cessation of the deluge until my legs are
in a prickly condition from mosquitoes and then go back to bed. But I lie awake until a
faint light appears in the east, then our pretty pink clouds appear in the west and suddenly
as Ben and I are donning our clothes up comes old Sol and the day is ushered in quite
brightly.
During the morning the “Bonne” goes up river and has a hard time beating up against
wind. She may be down tomorrow, but I think not. A load of lumber awaits the “Laura”
at the
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mill. But the “Laura,” it now turns out, is afraid to go to Key West as this month is
considered to be hurricane month and her Captain is afraid of striking one.
This afternoon there is plenty of wind, fierce enough to blow the house over—but it
don’t. It does one good deed; it blows mosquitoes off to parts unknown, leaving very
few, comparatively, to annoy us this evening.
As I write Ben has gone over to Fred’s. The baby is worrying and fretful, with the
chance of showing a few more teeth shortly. Brown Phip feeling a trifle better—although
“mourn sel” weak, and Freddie are asleep in their little crib and I am waiting for Ben to
come before “popping under the sheets.”
Lately alligators, those open countenance creeters, have been visable [sic] to considerable
extent. I counted 5 within a hundred yards of Fred’s wharf last evening. One was within
20 feet—but only a little fellow about 4 feet long. They go by our shores daily in twos
and threes and seem to keep their weather eye open for nuisance. I sometimes wish they
might get the beast for he is a perfect nuisance and well is the name applied. He will
steal anything and eat any thing. When nothing else turns up he digs up and eats sweet
potatoes. He has taken an occasional breakfast from us partly prepared on the kitchen
table and quite a number of dishes of pig feed. His nose reaches from Fred’s kitchen to
mine and he always knows when the kitchen door in either place is accidentally left open.
But he
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has nose enough to scent alligators as well as pig feed and I don’t think he will leave
P.G.C. by way of Alligator Creek. —or passage.
But here comes Ben and we must now retire to rest.
Punta Gorda Chica Saturday September 18, 1875
More wind this morning and more rain this afternoon. The wind was acceptable and so
was the rain. The latter acted in a very odd manner today coming like the train on the
New Jersey Central in showers every half hour, with bright sunshine and calm in between
times. Each of the 5 showers were ushered in with the jolliest kind of a breeze and
always from the S.W. And each shower was a deluge while it lasted. Even now the
result of such a series of rainfalls is noticeable; the frogs are making night hideous, and
the mosquitoes are trying to help. At present it seems as if all out-of-doors was an
atmosphere of frogs in full chorus and all inside of mosquitoes.
We are all in splendid condition to night and with the fullest of full stomachs. And why?
Well, about the right time this morning the fresh breeze blew Key’s skiff with two of De
Coster’s niggers across the bay and within was sent a fore quarter of beef and some liver.
Learning from past experience, we cooked it all to save it and the way that liver and steak
and roast beef went down was a caution. I never tasted finer liver than such as grows in
Florida. It is a perfect treat and the steak and roast (and soup also) were prime this time.
The morning was made up mostly in
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preparing the meat and cooking it and the afternoon in eating it, and settling matters
afterward.
Only 20 feet of potato hill came to the surface to day. While on the potato question I may
state that so far I have up about 3500 feet and it will all do well I think. The vines cover
the hills nicely in most cases and give promise of good fruit below. Fred got up 40 feet
yesterday, but how much today I don’t know.
Now we learn that the “Bonne” will be down on Monday and proceed to Key West.
Punta Gorda Chica Sunday September 19, 1875
What to say of today beats me. It has been one of the most dismal days of the season and
attended with more moisture than any two that have preceeded [sic] it. Rain has actually
dropped. Niagara, Trenton Falls, Montmorenci and all the other northern water
droppings can give you some idea of the way we took water today. It commenced before
daylight and has not yet stopped. About a dozen showers of the cascade order with little
showers in between and plenty of regular rain to fill up the gaps have been our rain quota
for the day. Strong winds came with each shower and a regular squall almost
approaching a “harricane” came with the hardest just after dinner. Indoors we have taken
water and out of doors the water almost took us. The roof did not leak but the strong
breezes forced the rain through the very sides of the house. No damage was done, but it
was awkward. But out of doors, the water puddled at first, then “ponded” and finally
broke in to brooks and flooded the entire surface. The tide came
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up and rose until Fred’s small wharf was even with the surface and waves would break
over it. The bay was higher than either of us ever saw it before. The wind blew a gale
from the west for nearly two hours and the outlook was misty. Only a faint outline of
shore was visable [sic] from the house and the heavy waves breaking among the tall
grasses seemed to boil and throw off vapor. Streams as large as trout brooks flowed into
the bay with the usual rippling, gurgling noise and these were many. The path to Fred’s
had 16 inches of water for a few feet in the lowest place and its entire length showed
various depths from 2 inches to a foot. All the potato beds were clearly marked by an
elongated puddle on each side and the pigs and hens had a good chance to bathe. Even
on my place ponds and lakelets, and small swamps—filled with striped little frogs—
suddenly appeared and there was a fearful tendency to dampness all about. Jupiter
Pluvius must have felt terribly bad to have weeped so copiously. As I sit indoors tonight
the rain still falls, with an occasional 10 minutes intermission and myriads of frogs, some
shrill, others base, and all dismal make the air resounding in every direction.
We have lived high to day, and felt jolly—notwithstanding the rain—in consequence of
full stomachs and good digestion. Beef stew for breakfast, and roast beef for dinner
made life seem more enjoyable and the absence of mosquitoes—all drown-dead, I
hope—has sent our spirits up to 109° in the shade.
[Missing pages 194-7]
(Monday, Sept. 20, 1875)
Page 198
Punta Gorda Chica
Charlotte Harbor Fla.
Tuesday Sept 21, 1875
My dear Pa,
Schooners seem to be a scarce commodity in Charlotte Harbor at the present time—that
is, schooners bound for Key West. The “Bonne” may have gone out last night, for
George says he thought he heard sails flapping and voices just along the channel. But he
has been mistaken before and he has actually heard them and therefore it may have been
and it may not. The “Laura” is unheard of also. Besides our neighbors across the water
are equally, with us, in the dark regarding the movements of these two crafts.
Supposing the “Bonne” might be along “permiscous like,” and George yelling to me
across the potato beds that he was going across I sealed up my letter this morning and
with a list of “things” enclosed sent it over by him. Fred went with him and they brought
back about 75 “garvers.” They also brought back word that De Coster tired of waiting
for Bartholf to bring his sugar and molasses from Pine Level intended sending an ox cart
up on Thursday for there goods. George has also taken a notion to go up with the cracker
driver and he will decide positively when he goes over tomorrow evening. In any event,
all our 16 letters for New York, and there=abouts, now at De Costers—together with such
as we may scribble in the meantime—will go up to Pine Level then and be forwarded,
schooners or no schooners.
In the list I sent you I have put down just such things as I want
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giving you all necessary authority to get all or any portion thereof. Of course I don’t
expect you to use up all the money you have to spend for us “southerners” in getting such
extras, but leave you to judge what you had better get for me on my list. Still, I don’t
think I have put on anything of an unnecessary character. As an added item I will put
down “a cheap thermometer” providing you think best.
Supplementing these things I suppose we shall need some provision of some kind before
the winter is over. The selection of such matters I leave to you. Next year I hope to be
able to do something toward obtaining such matters myself, but that you can judge of
yourself. In order that you may have some data to go by in selecting food to carry us
through I will give you a list of such things as we now have on hand and by deducting
these from the quantity you brought down for us you will know what we have eaten and
what we will be able to. It (the deficiency) represents what we have disposed of in 7
months as we commenced to gnaw into our stores on Feby 20 or thereabouts.
Sept 20 List of goods on hand
½ of a ½ barrel of beef.
About 10 lbs of salt pork.
1/6 bbl. brown sugar.
¾ bag of white beans.
One “ and a half of hominy.
½ bbl. flour.
7 cans of condensed milk.
¼ ounce of tea. (low down).
6 lbs. coffee.
15 gallons kerosene.
6 bags salt.
1 gal. molasses (about).
1/10 bbl of rice.
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1/8 bbl. of white sugar (granulated)
spices in plenty except cinnamon.
12 boxes of baking powder.
3 bottles vanilla extract
2 “ sweet oil
1 “ vinegar
1 “ nasturtions. [sic]
14 bars of common soap.
3 cakes of toilet soap.
½ lb. cloves. (or thereabouts)
4 packages sadaratus. [?]
18 lbs powdered sugar.
½ bushel peas (split)
36 packages of broma.
4 packages Farina.
4
“ Corn starch.
5
“
gelatin.
2 boxes starch.
This is a list of our stores on Sept 20 from “account of stock” on that day. Make your
selection and if it is possible to obtain anything to keep us agoing without serious
detriment to yourself do so. But graduate your selection in accordance with your own
financial situation. We will be satisfied in any way you arrange it.
We have plenty of pepper!
A few hams and bacon would come in handy, but salt beef don’t seem to be such a grand
relish after soaking a few months. Salt pork has the same faculty.
Mullet, quail, deer, occasional fresh fore quarters of beef, wild ducks, clams, and perhaps
oysters, with gopher turtle, turkies [sic], cranes and other feed running around loose in
this neighborhood will do something toward filling us up and the sweet potatoes I have
planted will furnish layers of filling in between.
And now to change the subject lets talk of the weather. It has been perfectly delightful on
P.G.C. all day.
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A strong breeze has given us plenty of fresh air from down the bay and the mosquitoes
have hidden their undiminished heads. I have hardly heard one all day. Even this
evening none trouble us indoors and over at Freds at dusk Anna and Fred sat by the front
door listening to George playing “de old ban=jo,” without a skeeter to worry or teaze
[sic]. A small potato hill of sand flies is collecting in a circle under the students lamp but
that is all the bother they appear to be within doors. —for rest their souls, they’re dead—
burned by curiosity they approached too near the hot chimney of the student lamp and
then burned to death they dropped quietly below.
Did I understand you to say that you intended to “make the sand fly” when you came
down. Please don’t, we have “mucha plenty” as old Sickesty-Sickus says.
There was almost too much water to make potato hills today but tomorrow I’ll do some
smart. In new ground the earth has the consistency of New York mud that we used to see
dripping from the tail boards of the street cleaning department cars. By tomorrow the
water will have soaked to the lower strata and then the remaining upper crust will be in
fine condition. Some time ago Fred, with rubber boots on tried to make hills after severe
rains, but it was like a street sweeper hoeing out gutters after a series of showers: very
sloppy. Instead of potato hilling I chopped up some nice “wooden chunks” and cleared
out the storehouse, took care of the babies and helped Brenda. Brown Phip seems much
better tonight but last night
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he groaned and tossed all night with much fever and rapid pulse. This attack is a sort of
acclimating ailing and when he gets through it I expect to see him fatten up rapidly as
Freddie did. You never saw such a change as there is in “Billy boy” as his Uncles call
him: he laughs and talks from morning to night and lately he has started a double chin.
Judging from experiences it will be some time before we get any home letters, by way of
Key West. I hope nothing requiring particular answer is waiting there now. In about 7
weeks you will be starting for us. How gladly we will all welcome you. And if Mother
only will come how happy we will all feel. How we wish Em would come also. I
sincerely hope that nothing will prevent you and Mother wintering with us in Florida, it
will be so pleasant all round.
Tell Em that after I have “arisen” to morrow I expect to have arose—high enough to
smell from the double window without going outside. One branch, lately, of the bush
under the window started up by itself and now six feet high it has suddenly stopped
growing and to celebrate the occasion has shown up 6 buds, one of which will burst in the
morning. And all the buds are at the highest point. I also counted on my smaller bushes
9 other buds. Won’t we be fragrant? Two buds have appeared on my “Cape Jassemin,”
as white as milk, and I suppose will be as sweet.
My bananas are doing splendidly
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and so are two “heretic” watermelons that have grown near a dump hole. Each melon is
about 14 inches long and very thrifty.
All day long quail have walked my paths and jumped across the fast diminishing puddles
between the potato hills. I should think that, in number, over 60 had so perambulated.
Fred object to quail being shot on the plantation. And I have acquiesced but my patience
wont hold out much longer if they invite one to go for them in such a marked manner.
By the way, I forgot to state before that the news—weather news—from across the bay
was quite novel, as De Coster gives it. The tide during the “hurricane” of yesterday, as
he calls it, came up to within 10 feet of his fence and almost flooded him. His wharf was
carried away, with the exception of the upright posts; his boat, drawn up on the beach,
was upset and badly damaged and the “old Nick” was to pay generally. Nearly all day
D.C. observed a large schooner anchored off Punta Gorda, where she had evidently been
driven by the heavy gale on the gulf coast. They must have had it hot and heavy on the
other side as the wind was S.W. and they got the full force of it.
This afternoon I saw a snake! The first in months. He was the same old Satan I struck
with the hoe as he was holing it a long time ago. He went for the same refuge, not
allowing me to get within 20 feet of him. He evidently knew me and he twisted and
wriggled himself away like a flash. He was about 8 feet long. Come, and kill him!
The last of the forequarter of beef
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went into soup at noon to day. Some that was left over and ----ed to walk off by itself—
not soup but beef—walked or rolled down a Castor and Pollux’s throats, to the delight of
those quadrupedal porcines.
“Gorvers,” baked as we bake apples and covered with a rich jelly furnished a delightful
dish of preserves for supper.
I understand that all the niggers and whites on Charlotte Harbor now live entirely on De
Coster’s Gorvers.” He is a great man and supports the population hereabouts.
But it is getting along towards 9 o’c and we don’t often dissipate to that fearful extent. If
we don’t go to bed I am afraid Old Sol will catch us napping and Anna will get her fire
made first. So Au revoir.
Punta Gorda Chica Wednesday September 22, 1875
As I supposed might happen, did. Ben and I overslept and Anna’s fire curled a stream of
smoke long before Bens. Besides our clock was slow and we were even later than it
seemed, but we finally got underway and to work. During the day I put up 35 feet of
“mud jue,” helped care for two sick babies Phip and Baby, finished clearing up the
storehouse, made a small wall closet to enclose small packages, and “planted out” 180
potato vines.
The day has been a glorious one. Cool and autumn -like, with plenty of breeze and few
mosquitoes. Since the “hurricane” the weather seems to have stepped from summer to
winter. The thermometer still wig-wags between 80° and 85° but it seems to be from 10
to 15° cooler than the mercury would indicate.
During a strong east wind the
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“Laura” came down and went out without stopping either at De Coster’s or here. She
seemed to be loaded with “hogs” in every sense and doubtless is bound for Key West.
Fortunately it don’t make any difference as George has decided to go to Pine Level in the
morning and will take all our letters. He starts before daylight and I must close up my
letter and take it over this evening.
Fred wished me to say that he had nothing additional to write and two letters of his are
now at De Coster’s waiting for a “send off.” He managed to get up “50 feet of potato hill
today and plant them with West Indias..
Upon going through my store=house I find in addition to what I have put down in my list
a large box of matches (1 of 4 you brought down) —2 I gave Fred, or rather he took—
and some of our maccaroni [sic]. Which we have eaten all along and found
wholesome—although of late suffering from weavels [sic].
I send with this the size of Phip’s shoe. Should lace shoes and button shoes be same
price—the latter preferred.
The “Bonne” did not go out night before last. She is expected tomorrow. But Pine Level
is our “gate” this time through which to reach Kinderhook.
Trusting you are feeling better than when you last wrote and that matters have turned out
satisfactory to you concerning “means” and also trusting that you and Mother will not be
prevented from coming down on the 30th of next month and with love to all I am, as ever,
Very truly yours
Jar Vee G.A.G.
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Punta Gorda Chica
Thursday September 23, 1875
My dear Pa,
Early this morning, before day break George Henry Howard, Esq. in white pants white
shirt, white (starched) collar and other accoutrements to match, left Freds in the skiff on
his way to Pine Level. He has never seen that wonderful spot and expects much
gratification there anent his trip. Up to last evening he was undecided whether to go or
not but finally he came to a decision and he is off on his way. The skiff and sail he will
leave at De Costers so that it will be ready for him as he returns tomorrow evening. I
have no doubt he will have a wonderful experience and get up a fresh list of crackerisms
for the delight of his friends. How I wish I could have gone with him. I am anxious to
know as much about Florida as I can, and yet I fear I shall have to be very much of a
home body for a long time yet. Bags took his blanket and revolver and therefore is
equipped as the law directs. 2 oxen, driven by a cracker who bought a farm of De Coster
for $300 and is working it out at the mill, will—attached to a 2 wheeled carb—take Bags
through the woods and the “perairer” and through many puddles of water before dumping
him at his destination.
In the letter I sent you I enclosed a list of stores onhand. One mistake I will rectify. I
said we had 40 packages of Broma (or thereabouts). I counted the packages as ¼ pound
ones and deducted 8 from 48 in the 12 lb. box received some time ago. Instead I find the
box contained 24 ½ lb packages and therefore 16 remained instead of 40.
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What a batch of letters you will receive by the mail George has started via Pine Level!
The “Bonne Aventure” at last came down this afternoon, wing and wing, and passed De
Costers on her way to Key West. A strong breeze was blowing from the eastward and
she made very quick time. Supposing she would go straight on after passing, I was
astonished to see her put in at Platts and stop there until after dusk. The remaining letters
and one of De Costers nigs, of course, must have taken passage.
This morning a splendid breeze ushered in the day and continued to usher all day long. It
made life pleasant and gave us great relief from mosquitoes and sich. Sand flies however
appeared in millions, but “low down.” On the west side of my house the lower portion
was black with them, but only when ones face was lowered to meet them did they bother
any. But around the student lamp they buzz away, get burned and drop beneath it in quite
a small circus ring. The lower part of the lamp looks quite like a piece of fine fur, so
nicely plastered on are the corpses.
Punta Gorda Chica Friday September 24, 1875
More delightful weather to day, but a succession of light showers, short and sweet, give
variety to the afternoon portion of it.
Bags is expected back, but up to the present writing (7 o’c P.M.) he has not put in an
appearance. One night in Pine Level is bad enough, but two will about break him.
Add about 30 feet of potato hill to the 60 put up yesterday.
Thermometer stands @ 85° for high and we grin and bear it.
Mosquitoes not troublesome in doors but “mucha plenty” outside.
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Punta Gorda Chica Saturday September 25, 1875
More fine weather and extremely high tide again. Of late high tides have got to be the
order of the day. Freds small wharf shows only 4 inches out of water at times and his
leaning palmetto near the water’s edge, as you used to see it, stands 4, 5, and 6 feet from
shore.
The surface of P.G.C. is drying out rapidly and hardly a puddle can be found even if
hunted for. We are gradually getting back to the old state of things before the rainy
season. That blow we had early in the week has cut short the rainy season and now we
look anxiously for dry and cooler weather. All agree that the rainy season has been
spread over more days than ever before. The commencement of August usually ends this
damp wet season.
Get my shot gun from Fred’s and watched for a shot at quail this morning. See six in a
row on a potato hill and fire boldly. I don’t kill any. Cap snaps. The ball is opened
however and when opportunity offers Fred and I and George will take a fat quail or two
when the chances are even.
No mullet visable [sic] of late. Water too fresh just yet. The bay is just the color of
Black River—during the fresh water season.
Just as I finish washing the “bairns,” as Mrs. Howell used to say, I see the white sail of
the old skiff leaving De Coster’s wharf and by tea time “Munkle” George comes ashore
as full of Pine Level as he can stick. He found the road a vast mud puddle and the oxen
were up to their “middles” at every few yards. Locomotion was extremely ---- and the
trip back was uncommonly so. He left Pine Level yesterday afternoon and
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accomplished only 8 miles before dark. They stopped at a cracker shanty over night and
slept—George and the cracker—in a bed made up on the front piazza. During the night a
“cattle” greeted George affectionately with a slobbery kiss and a wild cat yanked a hen
from the fence within 20 feet of him. In the morning he had the pleasure of witnessing a
Cracker under peculiar circumstances. This cracker had two teeth out at a dollar a pull
and the “host” used the only pain of “pullikens” in the county. George describes the
“snags” as gravestones and as they were placed on the box at the side of the patient—
after extraction the chickens made off with them while a small child yelled out: “Say Mr.
Walker, there goes your teeth over you.” The great ambition of this cracker was to have
sufficient means to live in a boarding house at Manatee. George will undoubtedly give
you a full account of his trip. It must have been one filled with varied incident and could
these incidents be taken down in shorthand as George relates and afterward worked up
what a splendid article could be made from them. But George don’t want to go to Pine
Level again. He stopped at Bartholf’s and asked about the means of transferring real
estate. He says it can only be done by power of attorney as I wrote you. But in order to
arrange it Brenda must go to Pine Level or Bartholf come to Charlotte Harbor. The first
plan seems an impossibility just now and Bartholf says he is not coming to Charlotte
Harbor for some time, in fact, he don’t know when. There fore I am afraid nothing can
be done with the Staten Island lots. I am very sorry, but
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I can’t see any way to get round the matter. If I could do anything myself I should not
hesitate to see Bartholf, but the lots are in Brenda’s name and she must go before a notary
to make the power of attorney. What beastly luck we all have in some things. Still
something may turn up all right yet.
The railroad meeting which was to have been held the past week fizzled. No one
attended. The streams were so high and so much water filled the woods that the
delegates couldn’t get together.
Punta Gorda Chica Sunday September 26, 1875
The weather today is lovely, with a clear sky and much wind during the morning and
thermometer about 83° to 85°. But in the afternoon showers and wet weather come in for
a share of attention. Several heavy squalls, one a “black” one give a little variety. It
seemed as if the latter “burst” would tare things but it eventually passed off and left
things standing “as they were.”
George has entertained us with Pine Level incidents today and we have enjoyed their
recital. He must have had a “high old time.”
Little Phip seemed worse than usual today. He is as listless as possible and just the
reverse of what he was when you were here. But it seems to me that, although he grows
thin, eats little, and looks yellow, it is only a disarrangement of his bowels and cooler
weather will fix him all right. If he don’t mend in a day or two I shall treat him for
“worms.”
Brenda has worried about him much today and we all turn in early in consequence.
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Punta Gorda Chica Monday September 27, 1875
Early this morning quite a fog hung about P.G.C. and hid the opposite shore from view.
The sun rapidly dispelled it however and by breakfast time the view was the same as
ever, clear and sunshiny.
Fred crosses early with Uncle Bags and they take over the soiled linen for Tenah to
ponder over. He also expects to add to his stock of pigs, but he comes back without any
additional pork makers.
Get up 30 feet of potatoes and drop another Pine tree for firewood.
Phip still listless and quiet. Freddie of late seems to have taken all the fun of the
household to himself and laughs and grows fat rapidly.
Anna, Fred and George call this evening and we have any amount of crackerisms of new
and elaborate designs. Some new tobacco saturated with molasses and copperus
[possibly cofferus?] cuts George short in his narratives and he goes out to see how the
weather gets on.
Mosquitoes getting extremely rare by degrees and I shall be glad when they are
thoroughly well done.
Sand flies as usual.
And there goes Master Harry with a cry to be transferred from the hammock to the bed,
so I shall be brief!
Punta Gorda Chica Tuesday September 28, 1875
The landscape is again a fogscape this A.M. But only for a half hour. The sun dispels it
and we see again all then is to be seen of P.G.C.
The perfume of 3 varieties of roses comes in the window today and makes the air lovely
within doors.
Mosquitoes not near so plenty as on mosquito days of last winter. Very few and far
between.
In the morning Fred and Bags go for the old sow and get her at last. She was
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however married to the wrong fellow, but not materially altering matters however. Fred
“tries the “let out” principle to day and it works to a charm. The pigs root all day outside
the fence and come in at night for shelter. Each pig is marked with a “round” in one ear
and a “diamond” in the other—which will hereafter be known as “Howard’s hog mark.”
In time much money may be derived from “hogs,” who knows?
Early this morning Fred shoots two quail and one dove. The dove he dresses and sends to
Phip who eats it with a relish—in fact it is about all the sustenance of any power he has
taken for some days. The rest of the day he felt quite lively and full of fun—although
weak in his locomotive powers.
Fred and George go gunning this afternoon. I go also half an hour after—not for game so
much as for a little recreation. I walk back to the big pond, about a mile, and back; find
no game and very little water. The collections of water mainly seem in the “ponds.”
Find deer tracks within 200 yards of the fence coming back.
This evening the weather is cool and pleasant, with few pests to disturb the enjoyment of
it.
Punta Gorda Chica Wednesday September 29, 1875
A cool, breezy day until near nightfall; then storm clouds surround us and thunder and
lightning appear. Just as bed time approaches, the rain also comes and judging from the
mass of clouds we shall have much dampness before morning.
The “Bonne” suddenly arrives from Key West about 4 o’c this afternoon, having been
away only 6 days. The squally look of the sky prevents anyone going over and we will
wait until tomorrow
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for letters. The schooner stopped at De Costers half an hour, sent a boat ashore, and then
started up the river.
Phip is “low down” again today. The term “low down” applies exactly to his state of
health. But I wish he would get over it as it worries Brenda considerably. He sleeps well
every night and all night, don’t eat much appears listless and low down and has a sort of
fever in the middle of the day with profuse perspiration. In a few days I hope he will
come around all right.
Punta Gorda Chica Thursday September 30, 1875
Calm and clear this morning with a few fleecy clouds for sake of variety. During the
night considerable rain fell and a small shower closed up the damp business about
daylight. The pails and tubs get full of rain we have a supply of water for two or three
days to come.
About breakfast time a fine flock of quail appear on a potato hill—about 20 all told. But
my gun is over to Fred’s and I get no shot.
After breakfast George crosses in the skiff or rather drifts over with sail up and drifts
poles and paddles back with letters toward noon. All the time he is away the “Bonne” is
in sight above Coon Key tacking back and forth.
Among letters I get 3 from you: Aug. 27; Sept. 10 and 17; I get one from Mother dated
Sept 9 and numbered 15. and one from Em to Mr. and Mrs. J.C. dated Sept 16.
We are all extremely sorry to hear that Em has been so sick. Why won’t she decide to
come with you to Florida this winter. I am certain she would be benefited by the change.
With you and Mother and Em for company we would
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all feel in a high-cock-a-lorum condition and capable of the greatest exertions. Do come
all of you!
What is the matter with the business community? Is the north going into a general
bankruptcy. My weekly sun and papers sent by Mrs Reeve give fearful accounts of
failures etc. I think we can do better in Florida than such, even as we are now situated.
Those green things you speak about make our mouths water. So far I have had our
watermelon grown in a dump heap. It was from fair to middling, but better than none.
Had it remained on the vine a day or two longer we would had a sweeter melon. One
more remains and is ripening fast. A few ears of green corn and tomatoes would go well.
Our standby has been “gorvers.” Now they have failed. De Coster thinks that 2000 a day
were picked during the season they lasted.
Fred’s eyes are almost well now; they certainly don’t trouble him as much. As soon as I
read Mothers letter Ben had me carry over to Fred the remains of our small bottle of
Ponds extract and Fred is trying the cure.
The “worm” business here is incidental to pork eaters. Pork, bacon, salt fish and sich,
without fruit and vegetables to counteract their bad effect—will generate worms. This
we must expect to bear up against until we can get fruit and vegetables and a “richer”
course of diet. The same diet north would result the same. The turpentine seems to be a
good thing for the trouble and it is not at all dangerous. Dr. Peter will tell you that it is
perfectly harmless.
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In your letter of 17th you refer to a lady at the landing who you think may help matters
and request me to tell Fred. As I rushed over to tell him he rushed to tell me of a
postscript you hurriedly wrote him. Putting both together the prospect seems brighter
than usual. I hope you will succeed as you wish. Don’t think for a moment that I shall
lose heart or get tired of my prospects. I am hopeful at all times and feel that we shall
come out all right before long. Nil Desperandum is a good motto for a worm eaten
Floridian, and I think I will adopt it.
The lumber list I sent merely that you might see what would really finish up matters.
Knowing that De Coster had written about a planning mill I anticipated anything that he
done regarding it and sent all the variety of lumber I could think of, so that, should you
come to any decided conclusion to invest for him and be able to clear enough to finish
Freds house and mine you would know what we each required. A couple of dollars spent
on the piazza will place me all right and the rest can wait. As I wrote subsequently I can
finish up the ceiling of our rooms and get things ship shape and wait for more flush times.
In looking over the “Key of the Gulf” I find that another Charlotte Harbor railroad is in
prospect to be called the “Lake Munroe and Charlotte Harbor RR.” It is advertised for 3
mos. according to law in the Key West and Jacksonville papers, and seems to be of more
account than any yet proposed. The “Key of the Gulf” speaks editorially of its prospects
and endorses
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the movement as one that is much needed and one that will open an almost unknown
country abounding in every variety of fish and game—besides being a great boon to
settlers and landowners in south Florida. Next!
And now for repose.
Punta Gorda Chica Friday October 1, 1875
Warm again today. Phip takes a turpentine cocktail before breakfast and looks as ghostly
as ever the rest of the day.
Ther. at noon 89°.
During the morning Fred and George go across the bay and bring back two guinea pigs,
regular “squealers,” weighing about 60 pounds apiece. We are getting to be quite
“hoggy” on this side of the water.
While Fred and Bags are off crabbing (and with no result) Uncle Curry comes over in his
skiff “to have a settle-ment.” I talk to him and get him to deliver a bill, which I enclose
the gist of as follows:
Jany. – 23 ½ days
Feby – 18
“
Mch – 24 ¼ “
April – 21
“
86 ¾ days
@ $2 per day. }
173.50
Cr. By Cash. Jany 13. $25.
“ “
60.
85
85.00
Amount due
$88.50
This is the bill as rendered by Curry. According to my make up I had no idea it would
approach more than $55. I hav’n’t yet had a chance to go over more than January and
there he has charged for 3 days too much.
I told him to call for his money in November as soon after your arrival as he wished and
he went away satisfied.
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When settling time takes place we can try to make a deduction for sore leg and other
drawbacks.
Potato hills about ended.
Plenty of breeze and very few mosquitoes today.
Sandflies gradually going into a state of retiracy for the winter.
This evening the air is cool and a good nights rest will be easily obtained.
Punta Gorda Chica Saturday October 2, 1875
This afternoon we learn that the “Bonne” soon returns to Key West and may be down at
any moment. I hurriedly close up to be ready.
To day we have lovely weather and the most delightful breeze. No mosquitoes, no
sandflies and nothing tormenting except a little scarcity of variety in “feed.”
Phip took his turpentine and castor oil this morning and the result was only fair. He feels
about the same. Ben is a little worried but otherwise well. Freddie in first rate condition.
The baby ditto. I am O.K. and lively. All the other ones are well and all are on the
anxious seat regarding the visits of Mother, Em and you for the winter.
I have commenced clearing up paths and getting the place in condition. Fred ditto. We
will shine up and look our best by Nov. 10.
Tell Mother and Em that we all wish them here this winter and we shall feel awfully
disappointed if they don’t come.
—Bring some “worm” medicine for the infants. Something that Dr. Peter can
recommend.
And with love to all.
Yours ever
Jar Vee G.A.G.
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Punta Gorda Chica
Charlotte Harbor Fla.
Sunday October 3, 1875
My dear Pa,
Yesterday I closed up my Northern “correspondence” and this morning George and I
skiffed across the wine colored bay to De Coster’s and left a small package with the
“jedge” to be sent by “Bonne.” The “Bonne” has not yet appeared and tomorrow George
will take over some additional ones. Phip looked pale and acted listlessly and De Coster
thought he was “rightly-bad off,” but the trip did him good and he has been feeling better
this afternoon and evening.
Capt Joselyn was at De Coster’s and his boat was attached to his wharf. There was a
smell of salt fish as we passed it, stumbling over broken boards and the usual truck
collected on that famous wharf, and beneath the boards as we jumped holes, the festive
clam reposed in seaweed to the number of 200 or thereabouts.
George being the only moneyed man of the “P.G. Chickens,” invested in 75 clams and 10
salt mullet—the latter 5 cents a piece and with a pail with very few guavas (the last sum)
and a few limes we took our way back just before dinner.
Old Joselyn says that “Appletons Journal,” in New York, has immortalized him in an
article headed “the Pirate of Charlotte Harbor” giving an account of his exploits and a
semi-biography of this famous “D.B.” He was dressed in a new suit and looked quite
spruce and gingerly. I wonder whose life suffered in furnishing him his new outfit. The
big gale had carried away his spars and he was bound up river for a new set. He therefore
takes his saintly presence away tomorrow—or when the tide suits.
The cleaned linen from Tenah goes back --- [line cut off on photocopy]
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We reach P.G.C. in time for dinner and Brenda learning that we had brought some food
delayed ours an hour or two to supplement it with clam soup. This latter was delicious.
How we did enjoy it.
The afternoon was breezy and pleasant and we sat in Freddie’s room and enjoyed it. The
meadow larks would occasionally start their melodious little call and the rice birds fly
past us in flocks, while Spanish mocking birds on a tree some distance off would drop
suddenly as if shot, flutter in the grass, and rise to their perch again dijesting [sic]—or
rather swallowing—the insect it dropped after. A chattering king-fisher would
occasionally flop into the bay after a “leetle fiss” — (as Phip calls it) and chattering like a
magpie get back to his perch. To ponder over and enjoy. But these birds are only
incidental featurers in the movements out-of-doors. The delightful breeze blows all the
time and we enjoy life quietly. In the midst of pleasure comes the kitchen call:
“Jarvie, suppose you get me some clams for supper, and get enough to cook for breakfast
and dinner tomorrow. Get all that belong to us, for you know they won’t keep!”
I trot over to the infant wharf with a basket and go for those giant clams in the mud
beneath. Some 16 of them I “eradicate” and open and with half a dozen for roasting get
back in time.
We therefore have a late supper of clams roasted and the prospect of much clam soup and
perhaps “fritters” tomorrow.
And I am tired—opening clams.
Punta Gorda Chica Monday October 4, 1875
We are given a day with clear sky and a pleasant breeze.
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Clam soup furnishes us with breakfast and dinner. Also Fred, Anna and Bags. In fact we
have a run—a decided one—on the “clam bank.” The water is so fresh and “up-countrylike” that clams can’t live in it and this is why we go it so strong on clams.
Three wild ducks (English) flew over the shore line today. The first of the season.
Quail plenty. They “Bob White” gaily each morning now and are accompanied by the
meadow lark in early morning duets.
Mullet not visable [sic] for several days except singly and in pairs. Old Joselyn insists
that there are none this side of Cape Hayes.
Mosquitoes play light on us now but sand flies; My Goodness! how they do congregate.
Punta Gorda Chica Tuesday October 5, 1875
Delicacies of the season today. Salt mullet for break fast, clam fritters for dinner and
“remains” for supper. Phip goes one better and has a white chicken, which Uncle Fred
accidentally killed in “shooing” with a stick.
Delightful weather again today, with sandflies under the lea of every leaf and projection.
Mosquitoes few and far between.
The “Bonne” comes down today and departs for Key West about 3 o’c P.M. with letters.
As usual she stops at Platts for a good bye kiss for Pepi. As she passes P.G.C. wing and
wing she makes quite a pretty picture.
Punta Gorda Chica Wednesday October 6, 1875
As I look out the door way this morning I discover a bevy of quail quietly stalking along
the potato beds. I watch for 4 or 5 in line and fire. As
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George had loaded the gun with duck shot and taken out my bird shot—forgetting to tell
me—I hit only two. Then I broil a mullet and salt mullet furnishes us with a delicious
breakfast. During the morning Fred shoots six wood doves. These birds are perfectly
delicious. Their meat is dark and juicy and full of good flavor.
Phip has 2 quail for dinner, but we all get a bite of a leg, wing, or piece of breast. Bacon
is however our staple.
All day long doves are flying about us in flocks of from 50 to 100.
The “Santa Maria” goes up the river today with lumber for Addison.
Find a 5 foot snake in the well upon going to it for a pail of water this afternoon.
Anna George and Fred call upon us this evening and we all have a “big talk.” The
proposed trips of the remaining Howards are duly canvassed and we all wait anxiously
for further developments by next “Bonne.”
Punta Gorda Chica Thursday September [sic] 7, 1875
Salt mullet for breakfast and bacon for dinner.
Not a mosquito today on the shore line. All on account of strong winds from North and
north west. Toward afternoon the breeze is decidedly fresh.
Fred and George make an early start for the back woods on a shoot. They get off about
7:30. But they come back at 2 o’c used up and with no game. The woods are so warm
and sultry that they both have to give it up as a bad bargain. They found much water in
the “ponds” and mosquitoes by the million. They however
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see a fine large doe but doe’nt shoot it.
During their absence I amuse myself hunting pigs off the shore line. and all afternoon.
Fred and George both help after they get back. The rooters seem possessed to tear up the
whole beach and they can do more ploughing than any team of oxen on Charlotte Harbor.
The entire distance between the “Heads” seems in a state of eruption from “pig=snouts.”
Fred gets up a fence protection some distance out in the water but the “blame beasts”
swim around it—even when a 7 foot alligator acted as sentinel a hundred yards out.
Tomorrow Fred will do so some more and arrange matters more properly.
At last the mullet are schooling. Immense squads of them went up river with the in
flowing tide this afternoon. There will be sport in a few days.
The “Santa Maria” comes down the river to day and anchors opposite the mill.
Punta Gorda Chica Friday October 8, 1875
De Coster’s colt—or pony—is troubled with the “horse-ail” — (cracker for dis temper)
so that he can’t get his “contraptions” ready and “toggle” him up as he wished to do the
other day when George was over.
For a change in the victualing live mullet for dinner today.
“Pigs in the garden—catch ‘em Towzer,” several times today. Much fun chasing them
out; particularly when one is sitting at meals. Fred gets made [sic], George ditto and I
weaken also, but we will have them all fixed in a day or two. Instead of the cry “Janet,
Donkeys,”
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as heard in “David Copperfield,” we have “Fred, pigs,” and away Fred rushes as wildly
as Janet did. But we’ll fix ‘em with fence outriggers in a day or two.
The “Sainted Maria” goes up river again today with lumber. She has become quite a
ferry boat.
Mosquitoes few and far between.
Mullet schooling and appearing in quite extensive ripples. The water in the bay at low
tide is quite fresh and at high tide brackish once more.
A strong N.E. wind is blowing as we prepare to retire with distant thunder mutterings and
smoky clouds. But this sunset was gorgeous: so much so as to be almost undescribable.
I won’t attempt it.
Punta Gorda Chica Saturday October 9, 1875
Cool clear and breezy. Fall weather really at last. Just such weather as we had last year
when I first came down. The old “Cardigan” is called out of its corner and Canton
flannel underclothes for the children are unearthed from the bunk. It seems to be only
10° of cooler weather to set us shivering. Wind N.N.E.
Foggy in early morning. It has not “dissipated” when the overslept P.G. chickens rise
and look out. As the sun gets higher and dries up the damp atmosphere the lifting fog
discloses a strange sail just opposite moving slowly toward our ranches. It is a white
sloop of about 5 tons with a green “dingy” astern. By 9 o’c the wind gives power enough
to send this sloop, with her ”topsail” added to other sails, up as far as the “Hewes Place.”
There she stops and her white sails are visable [sic] all day, just beyond Bird Key.
During the latter part of the day the breezes made the temperature seem
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much cooler than it actually was.
One of the peculiar effects of vegetation was beautifully heightened about sun set this
afternoon. Lately the tall grasses have burst their upper crust and tasseled out in the most
lovely fringe like tops, giving the appearance of yellow grain growing. Looking beyond
Fred’s all the land seemed covered and turned into a beautiful wheat field. As the red sun
slantendicularized on these vegetable pom-poms the effect was as picturesque and pretty
as it could be. Gradually from yellow to gold and from gold to red the shades changed
and then as the sun dropped they seemed to disappear and draw themselves into the earth.
Punta Gorda Chica Sunday Oct 10,1875
Again we have an extremely cool day at the beginning but as the day fairly opens warmer
weather succeeds. In the afternoon it becomes quite warm and considerable rain falls for
variety’s sake.
The day passes quietly.
Doves fly about and among the tall grasses on Fred’s place and a few quails drop an
occasional “Bob White.” Meadow larks and rice birds still lively.
The wind comes from the north.
During the day, at different times, the little white sloop is visable [sic] above Bird Key
and nearly always accompanied by her green dingy with its sail up. George says she is
on an Aguadiente trip (smuggling) and Fred and I imagine an emigrant party preparing to
settle.
Punta Gorda Chica Monday Oct. 11, 1875
During the night and early this morning
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we have additional touches of damp atmosphere with a small amount of rainfall. Toward
afternoon we get a jolly breeze and we are happy while it lasts.
I shoot at three quail before breakfast and get but one. Fred, however, during the
morning shoots 2 brace of quail and 7 doves on his preserves. We all get therefore a
good game dinner for Fred gives me 3 doves to make up my complement.
Fred and George make quite extensive preparations for a hunt at Punta Gorda tomorrow.
They propose to take the white boat and hunt and fish and bring back something to eat.
Another beautiful sunset, through the trees and over Fred’s kitchen.
Punta Gorda Chica Tuesday October 12, 1875
Phip felt so bad yesterday and Brenda was so worried that she got no clothes ready for
Tenah. The boy is better this morning but still ailing. Fred and I have concluded to feed
him on small amounts of quinine, morning and afternoon as a tonic.
Fred and George breakfast at 4.30 A.M. and are off before daylight for the hunt and fish.
They don’t get back until 5 o’c P.M. and the result of their day’s work and pleasure is 3
cormorants, 3 curlew, 1 gosling, 2 snipe, 4 mullet, 1 red fish, and 1 drum fish. Which
was not a bad show by any means. They tried hard to get a deer, but could’n’t find any.
They did’n’t seem to “use” just where they traveled. They had a most delightful day,
with a breeze from N.E. to send them down “a kiting.”
At 7 o’c I sighted the “Bonne” —or rather Freddie did, as she appeared 50 feet above the
water in a mirage
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away off by the Miacca. The effect was peculiar. By 9 o’c she was at De Costers and as
she might have freight I bailed out the old skiff and prepared to board her. As she started
to round the stake and catch our channel I took up a broken oar and sculled the old skiff
out to the channel and waited. On came the “Bonne” and luffed up nicely within 50 feet
of me. I had no trouble to get on board. Pepe said they had left K.W. on Saturday night;
that the letters were at De Coster’s and the only freight on board was a bag of corn which
I placed on the skiff and left him to pursue his course. He did not know what he would
come down again—probably Saturday.
Towards noon Anna called out to me that a strange skiff was coming. It proved to be 2
nigs in a skiff after mullet. After seeing them haul in a few I walked down to hail them
for a mess. They seemed struck with the idea of delivering before I could get there. I
found them on the beach and they were July and John Lomond. July invited me to help
myself. There were about 50 good sized ones. I picked out six 3 pounders and handed
July a couple of 10 cent pieces. As they were the first of the season I paid a high price.
But each mullet had a roe. I dressed one for dinner and sent two dressed to Anna with 3
of the roes. You may imagine the surprise of Fred and George on returning from the hunt
to see a broiled mullet ready for them.
The evening has been a lively one. Fred and I by the light of kerosene lamps have pulled
feathers and insides of birds until we smell. George attended to [possible cut-off line on
photocopy]
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festive mosquito has interposed his objections, but notwithstanding we have
accomplished our purposes.
Punta Gorda Chica Wednesday October 13, 1875
George and Fred went over to De Coster’s early this morning and in ¾ of an hour
afterward returned with the letters—but all filled with disappointment. Mother and Em,
it seems, are not coming to spend the winter with us! Of course we all know you so
decide for the best, but it is a great disappointment to us. We had made so many plans
for work and pleasure that needed Ma and Em to help out in the latter respect. Still we
hope yet you may think better and that Ma and Em may still decide to come. Brenda and
Anna are disappointed in the extreme. Even George is “low down” in consequence of the
decision. In fact we all wish you three had decided to come, but bow to fate and will “dig
in” and wait for another time.
We have a cool and delightful day with a constantly blowing breeze of good force all
day.
Mullet for breakfast, curlew for dinner and mullet for supper. We are all full again.
By the “Bonne” came Mother’s letter of Sept 23. (No 16) —and your two; Sept 23 and
Oct 1. with an enclosure of $5 in each. I am exceedingly thankful for the greenbacks.
They came most opportunely and seemed immense. I had just 25 cents in my pocketbook.
Fred and I are willing to do an economical business this next winter and you will have no
cause to complain on that score. You ask whether it would be best to hire oxen for the
winter. By all means purchase a yoke outright. They will cost about the same either
way, but by purchasing you have
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the privilege [sic] of selling again and can get your money nearly back—if not quite. De
Coster has a yoke ready for us when we are ready to buy. He has about a dozen yokes
now and either arrangement can be made. Don’t think of mules as workers; they are too
expensive.
The cart and agricultural instruments will be worth their weight in gold when here. Bring
as much of the cart as you can. Particularly the less bulky framework.
How we all wish Mother and Em were coming with you.
Punta Gorda Chica Thursday October 14, 1875
Harry Landon Howard is 1 year old today and George Henry Howard just 23. Mutual
congratulations have passed between them.
Weather cool and Octobery. Ther. at noon touches 75° and keeps there until 4 o’c. A
fine breeze blowing all day.
Fred commences work on his boat house. He is arranging a tramway for the white boat
to go to and from its thatched cottage in safety. Anna sits near sewing during most of the
afternoon and Brenda adorns the woodpile at the foot of my path as I clear out grass and
superabundant vegetation from it. The mites perambulate about us.
Phip is much better. His daily 11 o’c quinine and rum cocktail [sic] is giving him the
proper tonic and he occasionally laughs.
No mosquitoes, no sand flies. Paradise once more at P.G.C. Tophet and Tophet’s imps a
thing of the past.
Try a shy at the mullet this afternoon. The school is small and the cast net catches in my
ring and kerflummixes and we get nothing.
Cool and lovely this evening.
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Punta Gorda Chica Friday October 15, 1875
Another coolish sort of day but a trifle warmer than yesterday. Dead calm from daylight
until near 11 o’c when a breeze springs up and gives us comfort. As I look forth while
dressing and cast my eye around the horizon I discover the white hull and white sails of
the “Laura” just making from Punta Gorda. She slowly drifts out of sight by breakfast
time and no letters go with her. How she managed to steal this march on us I can’t say.
But the “Bonny” goes tomorrow and may get in first.
While the breeze is blowing gaily after dinner and I am standing on Fred’s door step
talking about home matters and going over the same talk that has been uppermost since
the arrival of the “Bonne” we are all astonished to see two crackers rise up, as it were,
from the sand of the beach and with the usual hangdog look approach the house. One
turns out to be Dr. Key uncle of John B and the other a Frenchman Americanized, in
search of work. It takes an hour or two to pump them and get from them all the “news”
and they finally departed for across river.
Item 1. Mr. Frenchman wants to settle where he can rely upon work of any kind a
portion of the year and when out of work work for himself.
Item 2. Dr. Key thinks Fred’s trees astonishing as regards growth and looks.
Item 3. Mr. Frenchman considers this spot the likeliest he has seen any where for a
location.
Item 4. Dr. Key considers that Fred has made rapid strides since camping on the beach 2
years ago.
Item 5.—Mr. Frenchman saw the famous “steamboat,” at Fort Meade, that will insure
every other quarter section within 3 miles of the Peace Creek by opening navigation. His
description is
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worth putting on paper. She is 30 feet long, built like a flat boat with pointed bow. A
four horse (said to be) engine will propel this wonderful craft through the shallow waters
of Peace Creek. She will be—or is—a stern wheel boat. Said stern wheel is 24 inches (!)
in diameter. And she is expected to make the passage to Charlotte Harbor next week.
Item 6. Dr. Key agrees with me in the facts I sent you 3 months ago. The whole business
is an immense job and the examining commissioners of navigation are to be well
feathered and taken care of previous to reporting favorably on the “opening” to the
legislature.
Item 7. Mr. Frenchman is a brick maker, well digger, and ditch digger by profession—
with considerable knowledge of muck, mud, swamps and low places. He has been in
ditches and holes for the past 6 or 8 years looking for work and has just left his “last
ditch”—a thousand yards long. He wants to do some for us.
Item 8. Mr. Frenchman thinks the muck from the two heads better manure for our soil
than cattle penning and considers our location good on that account particularly.
Item 9. We have invited Mr. Frenchman to drop in and see us toward the latter part of
November as we shall have decided what can be done by that time.
Item 10. Mr. F. says he will work for $1 a day if he can get. 50 cents if that is all or even
less if he is sure of his money.
And much more in the same way.
Heavy clouds gather toward night
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for a grand hullabaloo but only wind comes. Nothing more.
No mosquitoes. No sandflies.
Punta Gorda Chica Saturday October 16, 1875
The “Bonne” will go to Key West this evening. Fred and George will take the mail over
after dinner.
I did intend to send you my idea of the proper time to catch the Bonne when you come
down. She is so very uncertain that I think it best to leave the matter with you. Look
back and make a table from my diary of her trips and judge for yourself. She is and will
be pretty regular now. I would however appoint a day of sailing and take the chances. It
seems to be more a matter of luck than anything else.
Brenda wished me to ask you to bring her about 10 yds of red flannel to make the
children some undershirts out of. Also, if you have not done so, 6 packages of Heckers
Farina for baby. He likes it so.
We are short of shot. Will you get in New York or K.W. 10 lbs duck shot and 5 lbs bird
shot—the latter for quail and doves.
We are having a jolly windy day to day—a sort of mild “Norther.”
Trusting you will have a pleasant passage down and a pleasant winter at P.G.C.
I am as ever.
Yours
Jarvee. G.A.G.
P.S. Our Second watermelon, 14 inches long, furnished us with dessert today. It was
good! As was the other this was a “heretic.”
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Punta Gorda Chica Sunday October 17, 1875
Last evening about ½ past 9 o’c, as the moon was shining brightly I casually glanced out
of my eastern window to get a diagnosis of the weather prospects. Just rounding Coon
Key came a moving object which slowly kept its course westward. It was very easy to
discover that it was the sails of a boat and I put on my “Cardigan” and walked down to
the shore. As the object came nearer I discovered the outlines of a schooner and soon
afterward made it out to be the “Bonne.” The wind was blowing briskly from the
eastward and while the boat came on rapidly I walked over to Fred’s to call out “Sail ho!”
All were abed, but “Bags” jumped out of bed and watched the boat in his nightshirt to
endeavor to discover if she would go in for letters at De Coster’s. I went back home and
while undressing for my nightly siesta of balmy sleep, saw the white sails now brightly
visable [sic] in the moonlight turn about the lower portion of the bar and make for De
Costers. Satisfied I turned in. To day I find that she went in, landed old Curry and took
on a man stopping at De Coster’s and yet the “Judge” and family knew nothing of the
“Bonne’s” nearness and our letters still remain. But de Coster, who made a visit here
today says he will send to Pine Level tomorrow and he will start our letters “thataway.”
We all hope they will reach you before Nov. 6. And the chances are fair.
(This series of notes I shall send to Care of G. Phillips Esq. and you will get them
therefore in Key West.)
After breakfast the air being balmy
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and every out of door prospect being extremely lovely, I sauntered over to Freds. They
were just sitting down to breakfast and Anna insisted upon my sitting down just to
partake of a couple of Juilian [?] cakes that she took pride in. I sat down, therefore, and
discussed griddle cakes with considerable satisfaction, as these were exceedingly good.
Just as the last mouthful was disappearing “down the little red lane” —as Phip talks about
—I glanced out back, over the table, to the distant pines and was astonished to see three
deer bounding along playfully about ½ mile out. I jumped up, and we all rushed for the
marine glass and brought the nimble beasts a quarter of a mile nearer, but still out of shot.
Half an hour after the thought strikes me to walk out that way and should chance lead
them new to try my little “bull dog” on them—although Sunday. I walked along the old
path leisurely until I had got quite near the spot I supposed them to be lurking in, but the
grass was so high and thick that I could only see a hundred yards ahead. As I was
reaching for the glass, hung over my shoulder, I was startled by the quick successive
“blows” of the deer as they rushed through the palmettos. I stood still and soon saw them
circling round to leeward, occasionally “blowing” as they ran. One buck and two does
made up the party as they bounded along. Without thinking I lifted my pistol and fired.
Had I waited motionless the curiosity of the deer would have tempted them to a closed
examination of me, and have given me a better shot, but I was excited and I fired
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until they were out of sight. Four shots were wasted and I got “nary deer.” Fred standing
in his kitchen door saw me fire my last two or three shots and he came rushing out with
his rifle and “Neuse.” But the deer had departed for parts unknown, making their way
through the lower head and away. Fred and the dog came on and as soon as ”Neuse,”
playing along most unconcernedly by the roadside, struck the trail, his nose went down,
quick barks followed and away he went like a streak of blue lightning yelping like mad.
He soon reached the water which was in the marsh. and lost the trail, coming back to us
after an unsuccessful hunt along the deep grass border. We looked and listened, but there
were no more chances and we went back to the house. Had I not been excited at the first
moment I would most likely have got one for our Sunday dinner and it would have been
most welcome. Afterward Fred told me that as long as the deer would “blow” there was
no danger of his leaving his curiosity unsatisfied. One of these days I hope I will get
posted in regard to these lively critters and know their little ways.
This afternoon De Coster and family came over to make a call. They dropped in at Freds
and then came over to our house. The children were all dressed alike and looked grandly
gorgeous in their blue jackets with inch wide red border and red and white stockings.
Brenda says she was reminded of the Italian organ grinders of New York. Those who
have their little “sons” to sit on the organ while “Hear me, Norma” is being ground out
dolefully. Still, we had a very
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pleasant call from them all. George Edgar furnished us some amusement by tumbling off
the front piazza, however. They went back toward sunset in the smallish skiff in the
harbor, without upsetting.
We have had most delightful weather today, so cool and breezy. And there are many
more to come just like them.
Mosquitoes are rarities now which we are fully able to dispense with.
Punta Gorda Chica Monday October 18, 1875
After the De Costers left last evening Fred and George made up a shooting party for
today. At 4 o’c A.M. they took breakfast and were off for Punta Gorda. The wind from
the north east was blowing strong and by daylight they were on the marshes 7 miles
below us looking for game. At sunrise they were well in for it and by 4 o’c this afternoon
they returned with a fine looking mess of birds. In number there were 40. They
consisted of 1 pink curlew (the rarest bird in Charlotte Harbor) and brown curlew,
Spanish curlew, white curlew, willet and 30 snipe. As Fred marched up to the house with
all these birds hanging over him and about him he looked like a gallant huntsman indeed.
(By the way the boys expect to get many more of these pink curlew as they have found
their abiding and feeding places, and as their wings are alone worth from $3 to $10 per
pair they desire to keep quiet about it. There fore in speaking to Phillips don’t say
anything about pink curlew being get-at-able, for our neighbors here might learn of our
luck and “want to know you know” enough to
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forestall us. We shall keep the “preserve” for our own shooting. (What think you?)
Well, as Fred and Bags both shot at the pink curlew I was invited to come over after dark
to his kitchen and act as Judge and jury at the “bird picking party,” and decide who killed
him, both claiming the prize of pink wings. The matter was easy to decide: Fred used
bird shot and George duck shot. George “skim” him and only one shot was found but it
decided George to be the lucky one as it was “poor little specimen of a duck shot.”
Therefore George was in high feather about it. We picked the 40 birds, cleaned, dressed
and salted them and tomorrow we expect to feast upon Charlotte Harbor game.
The boys tried to shoot some deer but there were none to shoot.
Key and Curry and some others were at the lower wharf fishing and they took in about
100 fish of various kinds. Both boats started to come back at the same time, but the white
boat was in and we all had supper before Key’s sail was visable [sic] passing Platts.
My fingers smell so excessively “birdy” that I cant do more scribbling tonight. More
anon. (?)
Punta Gorda Chica Tuesday October 19, 1875
Weather today cool and bracing, with an addition of scotch mist and drizzling rain for
afternoon variety.
A couple of willet and a snipe for each of the boys furnish us a delightful breakfast, the
birds being broiled over a fire of live coals made from fresh dug up roots near the
kitchen. For dinner
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we partook of a Spanish and brown curlew and half a dozen baked snipe for variety.
How delicious they were! The Spanish curlew was one of the juiciest wild birds I ever
eat, so rich in flavor and withal so delicate. It was a rich treat I can tell you. At Fred’s
pretty near the same variety was had, with the exception of the pink curlew baked. Fred
saved me a piece, but fine as it was, it could not quite come up to the Spanish curlew we
had.
Whether the birds or the weather have done most still the fact remains that Brown Phip is
getting gradually better and seems quite chipper.
With a full stomach I feel quite ditto as ”So do all of us.”
Punta Gorda Chica Wednesday October 20, 1875
Our 6th anniversary. Celebrate it at Freds by the arrival of Key and Curry, who come
over to fix up the supporting beam to Fred’s upper floor.
It is quite cold to=day. Early this morning the thermometer drops to 60 and we have a
breezy north easter all day.
A good part of the day I loan my help to Fred in getting the beam up and placing it. The
block and tack, with much “prizing” —as Key has it—carries the day and half the work is
done.
Curry dines at Freds, but Key goes home to dinner, returning soon after. Whether he
objected to dine with Curry or expected to sit down with the family we can’t say, but he
concluded to brave the dangers of the passage over and back and returned in good humor.
Old Curry worked very hard—as he did for me last winter. (?)
We take a bird breakfast and bird
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dinner and then clean the bones for supper closing up the 40 birds. Fred saves a few
however, for his tomorrow’s feasting.
Punta Gorda Chica Thursday October 21, 1875
The wind blows fiercely. Curry arrives in the skiff without Key soon after breakfast and
goes to work. Key was delayed in fixing up the old lighter in order to carry some lumber
up the river for some houses he is to put up in a week or so.
I hear, as an item of news, that De Coster and Key have gone into house building as a
branch of the sawmill trade. Also that D.C. will engage to turn out planed lumber, by
hand, for $5 or $6 per thousand in addition to price of plain lumber.
About noon George and I take Key’s small skiff and sail over the bay to Natty’s. The
wind was fierce and the passage rough. We got the clean clothes and Key, and I held one
of the white bags in one hand—while Bags held the other bag—and bailed the boat with
the other. Key steered and we took in water all the way back over the gunwale. It was
high old sailing!
The beam is finally set right and by 5 o’c Key and Curry prepare to depart. They go at
last in a sweeping wind and Fred clears up after them.
The mosquitoes have retired from the battle field and only an occasional buzz is heard.
Phip is fattening up again and has come out of his troubles with bright eyes and a loose
tongue. He and Freddie vie with each other as to who will do the most gabbling.
Punta Gorda Chica Friday October 22, 1875
Cool and breezy. A very enjoyable sort
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of day has just ended. Our sunset tonight added the usual red fire to a pretty finale of
clouds and tinted grass and leaves.
Tomorrow George and Fred go again before day light down the bay for birds.
Wind blowing very fiercely as bed time approaches. As it comes from the N.E. it will be
a jolly breeze to take the boys down to the lower wharf tomorrow.
Punta Gorda Chica Saturday Oct 23, 1875
Again we have a moost delightful day. Sunny and at times breezy, without any very
strong winds. Fleecy clouds and varied sky abouve and a moderately wavy surface to the
harbor.
Fred and George get off and almost drift away from us before daylight. Still the sun is
not up before they reach the shooting grounds of Punta Gorda. They pass the day in the
mangroves and on the marshes and return with five pink curlew, 1 brown curlew and two
willet as the day’s result. Naturally we have a fine collection of pink wings and the
pleasure of a new “picking party” in Fred’s kitchen this evening.
While the boys are away I try a cast or two at mullet, said mullet running finely all day.
Some of the schools were immense. But as fast as I could pole to them, so fast would
they swim away when I was gathering up the net. I gave it up therefore and concluded to
wait for help.
Punta Gorda Chica Sunday October 24, 1875
More lovely weather; with fine breezes from the N.E.
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Take a brown curlew, broiled, for breakfast; a pink curlew, baked, for dinner and a nice
fresh mullet for tea.
This latter specimen was caught by George and Fred about noon time, from the skiff,
George making the casts. The mullet were running extremely well and the boys caught 5
altogether. These mullet were the first of the season actually caught by any of us on this
side—with the cast net.
Master Phip dons rosy cheeks today for a change. He improves rapidly and will look like
anything but a sick boy by Nov. 12.
Fred, Anna and George call upon us this evening and we all “gabble” for an hour and a
half without cessation.
Punta Gorda Chica Monday Oct 25, 1875
Lovely weather, neither cold nor warm, but exceedingly enjoyable. Light breezes all day,
with the exception of an hour or so in early morning. As day breaks a fog is visable [sic]
in the lower portion of the woods and also among the keys and along shore on the other
side. The sun dispels it and the wind adds to its departure. While it lasts, however, the
effect is quite peculiar.
George and I make our first essay in a regular attempt at casting for mullet. The schools
came along in lively order one succeeding another. At time the water would be alive
with them and the roar of mullet in the distance could be heard at intervals all day. We
took turns at poling and casting and before 4 o’c P.M. had got the knack of throwing
quite comfortably. Altogether we took 33 fish and George and I almost [words nearly
cut off in photocopy]
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them. Twenty were “salted down” for future use and the rest left for immediate purposes.
A small cat bird took refuge in the house today and Phip remarked: “Papa, ittle ca’ bird
na na nair, and talk like ca.’”
Punta Gorda Chica Tuesday October 26, 1875
The Bonne comes in this morning, bringing dates from Kinder up to Oct 7. and no
freight. One of your letters encloses another five dollar bill. I am very thankful, but
hardly think I shall be called upon to use all you have sent.
Poor old Dan, at last to go for only $45. It is too bad. You have no idea how much I
regret all this auction business as a necessity. It makes me feel blue to think of your
being compelled to do so much of sacrificing for Fred and me. But it will all come out
right one of these days I am certain.
The Bonne brings sad news for a cracker family up river. The owner of the “Laura,” Mr.
Lenier, was knocked overboard (and lost) by the main boom gibing just off Key West on
the last trip. Newt Waldron was hit at the same time but only knocked into the “hold.”
De Coster and a Mr. Borgers make a wharf visit this morning. The latter is trying to get
up his courage sufficiently to start a hotel for northern tropicalists. on Charlotte Harbor.
By the way, the Lenier (lost on the “Laura,” is the husband of the woman of “short and
long sweetnin’ in your Cor-fee,” fame.
Fred digs some fine sweet potatoes of this years planting today. I try mine, but they were
small with a good prospect ahead.
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We enjoy mullet for breakfast mullet for dinner and mullet for supper. Brenda thinks she
can eat mullet three times a day as long as they last.
Weather comfortable at daylight, grows warmer towards noon and almost suffocating at
night. The perspiration is actually “poring” off me at the present moment in small trout
streams. The breeze was northeasterly this morning and then veered to northwest
calming down to nothing at sundown.
Little Fred and I took a skiff sail to Coon Key this afternoon and as I headed the boat
there for some tall grass to hold on while I bailed her, an enormous alligator slid out by
the bow of the boat and sail off. He was about 12 feet long and looked big enough to
swallow one whole.
Punta Gorda Chica Wednesday October 27, 1875
Cool again with a strong easterly wind.
Take a salt mullet of George’s salting for dinner to day. It tastes first rate.
Fred is hard at work today on his boat house frame.
Bags and I try mullet again today but get none.
Ben makes extra good bread today from Christmas yeast cakes of a year old.
Start a big pig pen in the corner opposite Freds corner. When I get 20 sows running in
and out and giving me four or five pigs every six months in payment for the privalege
[sic] of occupying that little retreat I shall feel quite happy. The plan, I think, is feasible,
judging from experiments with Freds pigs. All his root in the woods and come in.
Sometimes they stay out two or three days, but at last they call round to see folks.
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Punta Gorda Chica Thursday October. 28, 1875
A mere repetition of weather “previously reported.” Breezy, sunny and comfortable with
frequent fleecy clouds to hide the sun rays.
Fred and I have decided on a hunt down the bay tomorrow with this object in view of
getting some pink curlew. But we have concluded to start after breakfast instead of
getting up at midnight. As the day ends the prospect of a good northeaster to take us
down is pleasing. The wind actually howls now—just after dusk.
George has just come in and gets off a joke: “Strange as it may seem,” George remarks,
“While we all live in the Piney woods, the baby is the only one who lives in a hammock.”
The small mite spends about half his time in the hammock.
All my “contraptions” are ready for tomorrow’s “toggling” up. Wood is chopped water
drawn and mullet ready for the mornings broiling and we are now about to “turn in”
early, as George has made himself extremely agreeable and left for the log house. By the
way, I may as well state, that George is behaving splendidly and endeavors to make
himself and every body else comfortable and easy at all hours.
Punta Gorda Chica Friday October 29, 1875
As the eastern sky shows a little light I pop out of bed and don my hunting rig, rush to the
kitchen and in 10 minutes after I wake, a bright fire is burning in the stove. By that time,
Brenda is over, getting coffee and hominy prepared and I rush back for the baby, bring
him over, set Freddie to dressing Phip and himself and then grub for roots to broil his
mullet. These I get and have all
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chopped up by sunrise and quietly and gradually forming themselves into coals by the
usual process. In due time they are suitable the front of the stove is opened, and coffee
and hominy meantime being done to a turn I rake forward the live coals and make a nice
bed of them, covered from cold drafts by my dutch oven top piece. Ben, meanwhile, has
established a salt and fresh mullet on the gridiron and in a minute or two they are
sizzling, and spitting and covering themselves with oil generated by the heat. At seven
oclock we all sit down to breakfast in the kitchen (for the first time in months) and
discuss eatables. At ½ past 7 o’c I am on my way to Fred’s where I find him wiping his
mouth with a napkin as he rises from his mullet, and he and George and I walk down to
the boat with all our goods and at a quarter to 8 o’c are fairly under way. The wind is
light but we get to the shooting grounds about ½ past 9 o’c and all along shore we see
snipe, willet, the various kinds of curlew, cranes, and waterfowl in the greatest
abundance. They are grunting, squawking and whistling at a great rate. The tide is low
and shores bare and all along its borders the birds are feeding. We soon discover two
pink curlew feeding up to windward about 600 yards and we anchor the boat in shoal
water, take our guns and endeavor slyly to creep upon them. As we get over in the water
we sink to our calves, our shoes going 4 or 5 inches deep in the mud. Crabs, mullet,
stinging nettles and a varied [last line cut off on photocopy]
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meet us at every step and these “steps” grow very tedious. Slowly we “put in and drag
out” our heavy feet, which some times seem never to start, and gradually we move on the
pink birds, wobbling their broad spoon bills rapidly from side to side feeding ahead of us.
We pass six willet in a bunch 50 feet to the right, then drive a flock of Spanish and brown
curlew along shore—tempted to fire at every step—start up a couple of blue cranes and a
white one who fly away with fearful squawking. But it is all for no purpose; the Pink
beauties get up just as we near them and off they go. We had walked beyond the spot
where we first saw the birds and some times sank to our knees in the mud.
Birds of various kinds were circling about us, and we started for a cover Fred knew of
where we could sit in the mangroves and wait for the pink curlew to come and roost.
Through the oozy mud another 100 yds we tramped, when suddenly we spied a pink
curlew and two white ones approaching from below. While waiting for them, motionless,
my feet got so imbedded in the clayey mud that I couldn’t move, and the pink bird flew
towards my right, approaching nearer until I had twisted myself almost to the rear. Then
as he came near I fired and hit him, but so slightly that he got off in the thick mangroves
and—carried his wings with him. Three more and half a dozen others came and Fred
took up position to fire, but they veered off and left. Then as if my shot was the signal
the vast assemblage of birds got up from shore circled about promiscuously and gradually
left for parts unknown.
We got out of the mud, got back
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to the boat and poled her down to the old camping ground. There we walked through
mosquitoes and mangroves to the marshes, found them dry and birdless and came back
and ate our lunch in the boat. Result of mornings work. Nothing.
Fortified within we went back to hunt for the place Fred could’n’t find before and getting
near we drew the boat up as far to the shore as we could and started for the cover. A
wide belt of mangroves, with a bottom of mud 2 feet under water at high tide, runs along
shore. Running out from these trees (some of them 2 feet in diameter) were dead
branches, —a sort of natural cheveaux de friese—which we had to clamber over. Under
the mangroves we found what I have often heard of as “tangled undergrowth” but never
imagined equal to this. Roots of mangroves, dead branches, small mangroves, all
interlacing and actually making a hedge like growth some 40 to50 feet high and from a
hundred to two hundred yards through. Running up into this mangrove belt are tide
creeks and it was to “the close leafy border of one of these where Fred desired to take me
and when there to look for Mr. Curlew on the opposite dead branches and pick him off at
leisure. It was at this spot where he and George took three at the last shoot. We therefore
brought the boat up to the cheveaux de friese and scrambled over. Then we made a dive
into the dark recesses of the mangroves. We twisted and turned, most making high steps
over tangles and again low squeezes between, and assisted by a couple of thousand
mosquitoes as reception committee. Slowly, stealthily quietly and not very boldly we
advanced, stepping over crackling sticks, and walking on the muddy carpet below—
which was
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soft to the feet and pleasant to tread upon—when we could reach it. The mangroves
towered, twisted and bulged above us and after we had passed ½ an hour at this sort of
meandering, without daring to whisper even—with the bites of mosquitoes itching all
over. —we found we were not in the right spot. We then turned to shore for observation
and found the right spot was further up. Fred went back along shore for the boat and I
stood in the mud and water of a little bayou, with mullet scooting around and between my
legs listening to faint sounds in the distance, that Fred told me when he came back “were
them.” Anchoring the boat again we made another mangrove dive and a hundred feet of
such walking as we experienced before, brought us to our destination. But we were not
careful enough. A dozen birds, immense ones, started up with frightened cries and
circled about us. One perched upon a dead limb within easy shot. But none were pink.
On we went and left the white curlew to join his fellows and slowly approached the
outlook. There we found the “roost” empty, but immediately took up position and
prepared to wait for the arrival home of the callers. I took out my sketch book and Fred
his pipe, then I tried my pipe also, and we sat there, in one of the vilest smelling holes in
existence, covered with mosquitoes and actually becoming paralised [sic] in the rear,
waiting for what never came. One little white crane lit on a dead branch, plumed himself,
scratched his top-knot until the feathers stood up straight, yawned, went to sleep, cleaned
up again, and
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went through the same process repeatedly; mullet jumped playfully out of the dark water
and little yellow birds darted past but Mr. Pink Curlew, had other fish to fry and did not
come. We could hear off in the layer mangroves various bird calls and sounds like cats
fighting but after an hour and a half spent in this way we concluded reluctantly to give it
up and go out on the marshes and get something for Sunday dinner.
Through the wildest possible woods we went for quite a distance and emerged in what
looked to be an overgrown ancient apple orchard. Immense mangroves of another
species than those along shore were stationed at almost regular intervals with the a
peculiar kind of seaweed grass covering the mud beneath. To heighten the deception we,
in going through them, came upon an immense field of perfectly flat sand, looking as if
fashioned with the aid of “Femans” [?] and rollers in some city park, each side being
bordered by this peculiar grass. All this Fred told me was the marsh! But the marsh at
low tide was not what it might be at high tide. Not a bird was to be seen, either in the air
or any where about. We tramped a mile about it, but saw only one immense crane. The
beastly smell that followed us everywhere was too much for Fred and his head ached so
that we retraced our steps, went back to the boat and started for home. Result of
afternoons work. Nothing.
To get around Punta Gorda we made some long tacks and very little headway. Rounded
it finally and then found the wind dead ahead. [Portion of line cut off on photocopy,
possibly “as the sun”]
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was setting and there was little prospect of beating up before midnight we were, at last,
compelled to take in sail and put out oars and row up 4 miles against tide and wind.
We got home about 7 o’c, Fred being pretty well used up and everyone disgusted to think
we had brought home no “spoils.”
And now, next week, George and I are to try it again and hope for better luck.
Punta Gorda Chica Saturday October 30, 1875
The “Laura” came in yesterday and we hear that the “Bonne” will go out today.
No letters came by the Laura, but one of Oct 17 from Minna came to Ben by way of Pine
Level.
George caught three mullet while we were off shooting and this morning we had a
delicious one for breakfast with a nice pair of roes to give it flavor.
All well and in good condition at P.G.C. We are all looking forward to your coming and
trust that you will have a pleasant passage. If you come by “Bonne” make a bargain with
Pepi in regard to freight before leaving and don’t let him know but what you can get a
schooner (as we did) to bring you in case he don’t take you. His usual charge he says is
at the rate of $1 per bbl. when Fred sent his sweet potatoes Geo. Phillips paid the freight
on delivery and the two barrels cost only $1.20.
Ever yrs.
Jarvee
P.S.—If in your rambles about Key West you should run across two good sow pigs—and
think well of bringing them down I could make excellent use of them. My boar is a good
one and, I ----- --- short of sows, only have one. De [rest of line cut off on photocopy]
[This is the end of 1875. The journal returns in April 1876, apparently when Jarvis’
father returns north.]