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Down South or Yacht Adventure in Florida

CHAPTER XXIII. TROLLING FOR BLACK BASS. "The idea of fishing for catfish is absurd!" exclaimed Colonel Shepard. "It isn't a proper use to put a white man to." "Don't fish so deep, then," suggested Cornwood. "The catfish live on the bottom." I was as much disgusted with the idea of catching catfish as the Colonel, for I had seen plenty of them caught by the negroes on the wharves at Jacksonville. I took a good-sized spoon-hook, with three hundred feet of line attached to it, just as I had used it in Lake Superior, and cast the hook as far out into the water as I could. I trolled it home, and obtained quite a heavy bite. I tried it again, and this time hauled in a fish that would weigh six pounds. "What's that, Mr. Cornwood?" I asked, as I brought the fish inboard. "That's a black trout," replied the pilot. "Black trout!" replied the Colonel, who was a great fisherman. "That isn't a trout of any sort! It is a black bass." "We call them black trout on the St. Johns, where they are very plenty at some seasons of the year," added Cornwood. "He is not quite like our black bass of the lakes of the State of New York; his head is larger," added the Colonel, after he had looked the fish over. "Still he is a black bass, and a big one too." "Do you call that a big one?" demanded Cornwood contemptuously. "I have fished a great deal in the New York lakes, and I never saw a black bass that would weigh more than four pounds and a half, though I have heard of them that weighed five." "I have caught them that would weigh twelve," added the pilot. The Colonel looked at him as though he were a descendant of the father of lies. I had three more spoon-hooks, with the necessary lines, two of which I had bought on the northern shore of Lake Superior. It was odd to think of fishing with them here in Florida. I sent Cornwood to the pilot-house, and told Moses to give the steamer about four knots an hour, for this was the way I used to do on Lakes Huron and Superior. We had not room for more than four lines at the stern for trolling. I offered one of them to Mr. Tiffany; but he declined, pleading that he had no skill in this kind of fishing. The Colonel, Owen, Gus Shepard, and I, handled the lines. Going at four knots, the screw hardly broke the water, though possibly it astonished the fishes. Our lines had hardly run out their length before two of us had each a fish on his hook. The Colonel and I brought in a fish apiece, about the size of the one I had caught before. Owen and Gus took their turn while we were getting our fish off the hook. My cousin lost his, but Gus got his on board. The sport was quite equal to blue-fishing, which I had tried on the coast of Maine. In an hour we had twenty of them, all black bass. Miss Margie wished she might fish; I told her to put on her thick gloves and she might try. I baited the spoon-hook with a live little fish the pilot had procured, and gave her the line. In a few minutes she was tugging away at a fish. He was unusually gamy, leaping out of the water a dozen times on his way to the boat. "I can't get him any further, captain!" cried she, out of breath with her exertions. I took the line from her, and hauled in the largest bass we had yet seen. "It would be wicked to catch any more, for we can't use them," said the Colonel. "Here, steward, weigh this fish, if you please." The bass Miss Margie had caught carried the spring scale down to twelve and a quarter. "Where is Mr. Cornwood?" demanded Colonel Shepard; and he rushed forward to the pilot-house. "Mr. Cornwood, I doubted your statement when you said you had seen a black trout, or bass, that would weigh twelve pounds. I beg your pardon, for we have one that will weigh twelve and a quarter." "I hope you will yet catch a bigger one, Colonel Shepard," replied the pilot, delighted to be vindicated. "Now let her out, and run for Green Cove Springs," I interposed. The deck-hands wound up the lines; we were soon out of the lake, and again headed up the St. Johns River. All the party were exhilarated by the fine sport we had had on the lake, and they were devoting themselves to a particular examination of the fish. Ben Bowman laid aside the dignity of his office as assistant engineer, and proceeded to dress the fish, which he was better qualified to do than any other person on board. It was about six o'clock in the afternoon when we finished fishing, and the cabin party were called to supper before we got out of the lake. As soon as they had sufficiently discussed the fish, they went below. The mate relieved Cornwood at the wheel while the latter went to supper, which was ready at the same hour as the cabin meal. I preferred to take my supper with Washburn, and so I waited till half an hour later. I was talking with him about the fishing, when Chloe came to the door of the pilot-house, and with her usual smile said she would like to see me. I went out on the forecastle with her, for I thought she had taken the particular time when Cornwood was at supper to speak with me. "Captain Garningham, I am willing to leave the Sylvania when the boat gets to Green Cove Springs, for I know that I am making a great deal of trouble on board," said she, showing her pretty white teeth. "I was not aware that you had made any trouble on board," I replied. "It is your husband who has made all the trouble." "Well, it is on my account; and if I leave the Sylvania, he will not trouble you any more," she added. "I don't think the ladies in the cabin would be willing that you should leave." "I am sure Griffin will be in Green Cove Springs to-night, and he will make a heap of trouble there as he has done to-day," continued Chloe. "I don't want to keep you in hot water all the time on my account." "We understand the situation better than before, and we shall have no further trouble with Griffin. I shall have a hand forward and another aft whenever we are at anchor, or at a wharf, so that he can't get on board of the steamer," I replied. "If you don't want to go with him, all you have to do is to stay on board." "I don't want to go with him," said she, with a good deal of energy. "If I could have found a place in a steamer going north, or anywhere that would take me away from him, I would have left him a year ago;" and her bright eyes snapped as though she meant all she said. "How long have you been married?" "Two years; and I was very foolish to have him. Griffin is a bad man," said she, shaking her head. "He was discharged from the Charleston steamer for getting up a fight, and drawing a knife on the steward. He beats me and abuses me, and I have been miserable ever since I married him. I have often been afraid of my life, he is so violent, especially when he has been drinking." "Does he drink hard?" "Only when he is ashore. If he did it on board any steamer, they would discharge him right off. When this trip in the Sylvania is done, I shall have a little money, and then I shall leave Florida by the first train, if the ladies will give me a recommendation so that I can get a place. I mean to change my name, and keep out of Griffin's way as long as I live, for he will kill me if I live with him. I had no comfort for a year till I came on board of this vessel." "You were living in St. Augustine, were you?" "Lived everywhere; we had been in St. Augustine two months when we engaged on this steamer. Griffin had a place at a hotel, and was turned off for getting drunk, and fighting. He must have been very bad, or they would not have let him go when they were so short of waiters. He wouldn't let me work anywhere, though I had plenty of chances to wait on table, and one to go in the San Jacinto to Nassau. He was afraid I should get some money and leave him, as I told him I would after he had whipped and kicked me. I have a mark on my shoulder where he bit me, not a week before we came on board of this vessel." My sympathies were greatly excited; but in a quarrel between man and wife, I had heard older people say no one should interfere unless they came to blows, and I said nothing. "Griffin sailed in some vessel with Mr. Cornwood, I believe," I added. "Never in this world!" protested Chloe. "He was born and raised in Fernandina, as I was; and I can tell where he was every hour of his life, up to our marriage. He was on the same steamer with me three years, and both of us were at home up to that time." "Why did you marry him if you knew him so well?" I asked, much interested in her story. "Because I was foolish, and thought I could manage him. Perhaps I could, if he didn't drink no liquor." "I was not aware that he was a drinking man." "If you had got near enough to smell his breath to-day, you would have known that he drank liquor. He never seems to be very bad, but whiskey makes him ugly." "He seems to be a good friend of Mr. Cornwood," I suggested. "Well, he ought to be; for Mr. Cornwood got him out of a very bad scrape when he nearly killed a man in Jacksonville last January. I don't think much of Mr. Cornwood, neither. I reckon he uses Griffin as a witness when he wants one, for Griffin will swear to anything." "Did Mr. Cornwood ever fall overboard, and Griffin save him?" "Never in this world! He never sailed in the same vessel with him, except this one." "Do you know Captain Parker Boomsby, Chloe?" "Never heard of him before." "You had better go to the cabin now. As long as you remain on board, I will see that you are protected," I said, rising from my stool, for it was about time for the pilot to come on deck. "Thank you, Captain Garningham. I have told the ladies how I am situated, and they promise to help me all they can," replied Chloe, as she tripped lightly to the companion-way aft. It appeared from the statement of the stewardess that Cornwood had been lying to me right along in regard to Griffin Leeds. He had no interest in him, except to have him on board to act as a spy and listener upon me. But in spite of this fact--and I had no doubt it was a fact--Cornwood was an exceedingly useful person on board of the Sylvania. I could not believe that he had been acting as a guide for parties, though it was plain that he was entirely familiar with the State of Florida. The pilot took his place at the wheel, and Washburn and I went to supper. We talked freely before Cobbington, who told us that Cornwood had offered him five dollars to be a witness in a case of assault he had not seen; but he would rather starve than commit a crime. <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

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