FullReads

“Tea!” he roared. “What do you mean by that?”

“We have plenty of coffee on board,” I answered, “but some of our party can’t drink it. If you have any tea, I should like to borrow some. I can send it to you when we reach a store.”

From every person of the other party came, as in a chorus, the one word, “Tea?” And Euphemia put her pale face out of the cabin, and said, in a tone of wondering inquiry, “Tea?”

“Did you bang into us this way to borrow tea?” roared the old gentleman.

“I did not intend, of course, to strike you so hard,” I said, “and I am sorry I did so, but I should like to borrow some tea.”

Euphemia whispered to me:–

“We have tea.”

I looked at her, and she locked her lips.

“Of course we can give you some tea, if you want some,” said the red-faced boatman, “but I never heerd of a thing like this since I was first born, nor ever shall again, I hope.”

“I don’t want you to give me any tea,” I said. “I shall certainly return it, and a very little will do–just a handful.”

The two boats had not drifted apart, for the father, standing on the cabin roof, had held tightly to our rigging, and the boatman, still muttering, went on board his vessel to get the tea. He brought it, wrapped in a piece of a newspaper.

“Here comes your man,” he said, pointing to a little boat which was approaching us. “We told him we’d look out for you, but we didn’t think you’d come smashing into us like this.”

In a few moments our boatman had pulled alongside, his face full of a dark inquiry. He looked at me for authoritative information.

“I came here,” I said to him, “after tea.”

“Before breakfast, I should say!” cried the old gentleman. And every one of his party burst out laughing.

Much was now said, chiefly by the party of the other part, but our boatman paid little attention to any of it. The boys scrambled on board their own vessel. We pushed apart, hoisted sail, and were soon speeding away.

“Good bye!” shouted the father, a genial man. “Let us know if you want any more groceries, and we’ll send them to you.”

For six days from our time of starting we sailed down the Indian River. Sometimes the banks were miles apart, and sometimes they were very near each other; sometimes we would come upon a solitary house, or little cluster of dwellings; and then there would be many, many miles of wooded shore before another human habitation was to be seen. Inland, to the west, stretched a vast expanse of lonely forest where panthers, bears, and wild-cats prowled. To the east lay a long strip of land, through whose tall palmettoes came the roar of the great ocean. The blue sky sparkled over us every day; now and then we met a little solitary craft; countless water-fowl were scattered about on the surface of the stream; a school of mullet was usually jumping into the air; an alligator might sometimes be seen steadily swimming across the river, with only his nose and back exposed; and nearly always, either to the right or to the left, going north or going south, were seven pelicans, slowly flopping through the air.

A portion of the river, far southward, called “The Narrows,” presented a very peculiar scene. The banks were scarcely fifty feet apart, and yet there were no banks. The river was shut in to the right by the inland shore, and to the left by a far-reaching island, and yet there was no inland shore, nor any island to the left. On either side were great forests of mangrove trees, standing tiptoe on their myriad down-dropping roots, each root midleg in the water. As far as we could see among the trees, there was no sign of ground of any kind–nothing but a grotesque network of roots, on which the forest stood. In this green-bordered avenue of water, which extended nine or ten miles, the thick foliage shut out the breeze, and our boatman was obliged to go ahead in his little boat and tow us along.