The bright day animated our spirits, as we swept swiftly down the river.The party in the shad-boat, now called "Adventurer," rowed merrily on with song and laughter, while I made an attempt to examine more closely the character of the water-moccasin -- the Trigono cephaluspiscivorus of Lacepede, -- which I had more cause to fear than the alligators of the river.
The water-moccasin is about two feet in length, and has a circumference of five or six inches.
The tail possesses a horny point about half an inch in length, which is harmless, though the Crackers and negroes stoutly affirm that when it strikes a tree the tree withers and dies, and when it enters the flesh of a man he is poisoned unto death.The color of the reptile is a dirty brown.Never found far from water, it is common in the swamps, and is the terror of the rice-field negroes.The bite of the water-moccasin is exceedingly venomous, and it is considered more poisonous than that of the rattlesnake, which warns man of his approach by sounding his rattle.
The moccasin does not, like the rattlesnake, wait to be attacked, but assumes the offensive whenever opportunity offers, striking with its fangs at every animated object in its vicinity.
All other species of snakes flee from its presence.
It is found as far north as the Peedee River of South Carolina, and is abundant in all low districts of the southern states.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.The camp-fire dissipated the damps, and the long row made rest welcome.
