A Pleasant Old Gentleman, Mr. Charles
Todd, Kept The Tavern, Known As Willow Grove
Hotel, More For Amusement Than For Profit.
I
said nothing to him about the peculiar manner
in which I had landed on Slaughter Beach; but
to
His inquiry as to where my boat was, and
what kind of a boat it was to live in such a
blow, I replied that I found it too wet and cold
on the bay to remain there, and too rough to
proceed to Cape Henlopen, and there being no
alternative, I was obliged to land much against
my inclination, and in doing so was drenched to
the skin, but had managed to get dry before a
fire in the marshes. So the kind old man piled
small logs in the great kitchen fireplace, and
told me tale upon tale of his life as a
schoolmaster out west; of the death of his wife there,
and of his desire to return, after long years of
absence, to his native Delaware, where he could
be comfortable, and have all the clams, oysters,
fish, and bay truck generally that a man could
wish for.
"Now," he added, "I shall spend my last
days here in peace." He furnished an excellent
supper of weak-fish or sea trout (Otolithus
regalio), fried oysters, sweet potatoes, &c.
This locality offers a place of retirement for
men of small means and limited ambition. The
broad bay is a good sailing and fishing ground,
while the great marshes are the resort of many
birds. The light, warm soil responds generously
to little cultivation. After a day of hunting and
fishing, the new-comer can smoke his pipe in
peace, to the music of crackling flames in the
wide old fireplace. Here he may be
comfortable, and spend his last days quietly vegetating,
with no criticisms on his deterioration, knowing
that he is running to seed no faster than his
neighbors.
The wind had gone to rest with the sun, and
the sharp frost that followed left its congealed
breath upon the shallow pools of water nearly
half an inch in thickness by morning. From
my bed I could see through the window the
bright flashes from Cape May and Cape
Henlopen lights. Had not misfortune beset me, a
four-hours' pull would have landed me at Lewes.
There was much to be thankful for, however.
Through a merciful Providence it was my
privilege to enjoy a soft bed at the Willow Grove
Inn, and not a cold one on the sands of
Slaughter Beach. So ended my last day on Delaware
Bay.
CHAPTER VIII. FROM CAPE HENLOPEN TO NORFOLK, VIRGINIA
THE PORTAGE TO LOVE CREEK. - THE DELAWARE
WHIPPINGPOST. - REHOBOTH AND INDIAN RIVER BAYS. - A PORTAGE
TO LITTLE ASSAWAMAN BAY. - ISLE OF WIGHT BAY. -
WINCHESTER PLANTATION. - CHINCOTEAGUE. - WATCHAPREAGUE
INLET. - COBB'S ISLAND. - CHERRYSTONE. - ARRIVAL AT
NORFOLK. - THE "LANDMARK'S" ENTERPRISE.
My first thought the next morning was of the
lost outrigger, and how I should replace
it. My host soon solved the problem for me.
I was to drive to the scene of the late disaster in
his light, covered wagon, load it with the canoe
and cargo, and take the shortest route to Love
Creek, six miles from Lewes, stopping on the
way at a blacksmith's for a new outrigger.
We drove over sandy roads, through forests of
pine and oak, to the village of Milton, where a
curious crowd gathered round us and facetiously
asked if we had "brought the canoe all the way
from Troy in that 'ere wagon." The village
smith, without removing the paper boat from her
snug quarters, made a fair outrigger in an hour's
time, when we continued our monotonous ride
through the dreary woods to a clearing upon the
banks of a cedar swamp, where in a cottage
lived Mr. George Webb, to whom Bob Hazzle,
my driver, presented me.
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