As The Suwanee
Had Overflowed Its Banks Below Old Town
Hammock, The Snakes Had Taken To The Low Limbs
Of
The trees and to the tops of bushes, where
they seemed to be sleeping in the warmth of the
bright
Sunlight; but as I glided along the shore
a few feet from their aerial beds, they discovered
my presence, and dropped sluggishly into the
water. It would not be an exaggeration to say
that we passed thousands of these dangerous
reptiles while descending the Suwanee.
Raftsmen told me that when traversing lagoons in
their log canoes, if a moccasin is met some
distance from land he will frequently enter the canoe
for refuge or for rest, and instances have been
known where the occupant has been so alarmed
as to jump overboard and swim ashore in order
to escape from this malignant reptile.
The only place worthy of notice between Old
Town Hammock and the gulf marshes is Clay
Landing, on the left bank of the river, where
Mrs. Tresper formerly lived in a very
comfortable house. Clay Landing was used during the
Confederate war as a place of deposit for
blockade goods. Archer, a railroad station, is but
twenty miles distant, and to it over rough roads
the contraband imports were hauled by mule
teams, after having been landed from the fleet
blockade-runner.
As the sun was sinking to rest, and the
tree shadows grew long on the wide river's bosom,
we tasted the saltness in the air as the briny
breezes were wafted to us over the forests
from the Gulf of Mexico. After darkness had
cast its sombre mantle upon us, we left the
"East Pass" entrance to the left, and our boats
hurried on the rapidly ebbing tide down the broad
"West Pass" into the great marshes of the coast.
An hour later we emerged from the dark forest
into the smooth savannas. The freshness of the
sea-air was exhilarating The stars were shining
softly, and the ripple of the tide, the call of the
heron, or the whirr of the frightened duck, and
the leaping of fishes from the water, were the
only sounds nature offered us. It was like
entering another world. In these lowlands, near the
mouth of the river, there seemed to be but one
place above the high-tide level. It was a little
hammock, covered by a few trees, called
Bradford's Island, and rose like an oasis in the desert.
The swift tide hurried along its shores, and a
little farther on mingled the waters of the great
wilderness with that of the sea.
Our tired party landed on a shelly beach, and
burned a grassy area to destroy sand-fleas. This
done, some built a large camp-fire, while others
spread blankets upon the ground. I drew the
faithful sharer of my long voyage near a thicket
of prickly-pears, and slept beside it for the last
time, never thinking or dreaming that one year
later I should approach the mouth of the
Suwanee from the west, after a long voyage of
twenty-five hundred miles from the bead of the Ohio
River, and would again seek shelter on its banks.
It was a night of sweet repose.
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