Stream. However,
before venturing to do so, we determined to try to replenish our larder
with eggs. Landing on the beach, we hunted industriously for some hours,
literally scratching for a living; but the ground had evidently been
most effectually gone over before, as the tracks of bears proved. A few
onions, washed from some passing vessel, were eagerly devoured. We
scanned the washings along the strand in vain for anything that would
satisfy hunger. Nothing remained but to make the venture of stopping at
the fort. This fort, like many others, was established during the
Seminole war, and at its close was abandoned. It is near the mouth of
the Miami River, a small stream which serves as an outlet to the
overflow of the everglades. Its banks are crowded to the water's edge
with tropical verdure, with many flowering plants and creepers, all the
colors of which are reflected in its clear waters. The old barracks were
in sight as we slowly worked our way against the current. Located in a
small clearing, with cocoanut-trees in the foreground, the white
buildings made, with a backing of deep green, a very pretty picture. We
approached cautiously, not knowing with what reception we should meet.
As we neared the small wharf, we found waiting some twenty or thirty
men, of all colors, from the pale Yankee to the ebony Congo, all armed:
a more motley and villainous-looking crew never trod the deck of one of
Captain Kidd's ships. We saw at once with whom we had to deal--deserters
from the army and navy of both sides, with a mixture of Spaniards and
Cubans, outlaws and renegades. A burly villain, towering head and
shoulders above his companions, and whose shaggy black head scorned any
covering, hailed us in broken English, and asked who we were. Wreckers,
I replied; that we left our vessel outside, and had come in for water
and provisions. He asked where we had left our vessel, and her name,
evidently suspicious, which was not surprising, for our appearance was
certainly against us. Our head-gear was unique: the general wore a straw
hat that napped over his head like the ears of an elephant; Colonel
Wilson, an old cavalry cap that had lost its visor; another, a turban
made of some number 4 duck canvas; and all were in our shirt-sleeves,
the colors of which were as varied as Joseph's coat. I told him we had
left her to the northward a few miles, that a gunboat had spoken us a
few hours before, and had overhauled our papers, and had fou