Trip to Cobb's Island

The following story about a sailing trip by a group of young Leonardtown men to Cobb's Island in the Atlantic Ocean off the Virginia Coast (Northampton County) was written about 1880 by Mr. Joseph F. Morgan, Esq.

Chapter I

To the Island.

There were eighteen of us in all -- King, Robt. C. Combs, Henry Combs, J. Simms Fenwick, Albert Fenwick, Edelen, Freeman, Drury, Wile, Neal, Captains Ben and Sol Foxwell and Tyler, Morgan, Jno. "Pump," Jim Stanley, Peter Jordan and "Sport," who sailed from Foxwell's Wharf, in the Schooner "Father and Sons," and the trim little boat turned her bow toward the Potomac, bound for Cobb's Island, on a voyage of discovery and sight-seeing. Many of us had near and dear friends who regretted our departure and whose prayers were offered to Heaven for our deliverance from the dangers of the sea and for our safe return.

The first order given after leaving our friends was, "John, to the pump," and as this was John's occupation repeatedly afterwards, we will dismiss him by letting our readers know that at any time when the balance of the party were doing nothing or asleep John was at the pump. The next order was a drink to the success and pleasure of our voyage, which was toasted all round, and at 8 o'clock our vessel turned Huggins' bar and headed for Smith's Point Light with a fair wind and bounding gracefully over the waves of the classic river.

A short time and it was announced that the hour for retiring had come. Our beds had been arranged in the hold of the vessel, and thither we went to pass our first night beneath the waves. We were unaccustomed to this mode of sleeping and many of us passed our first night restlessly. Your correspondent, unable to sleep, came upon deck about 12 o'clock to witness the sights to be seen upon the water at night. At about 12 o'clock we passed Smith's Point Light and turned our course down the Chesapeake. About this time one of our party came upon deck, but prompted by different motives. It seemed that the motion of the boat had unsettled him, and from that time until we reached Hampton Roads a more pitiful specimen of sea-sickness we never beheld. In spite of our sympathy we could not help being amused at this, to us, novel complaint. He managed to wear the night through until sunrise, when the balance of our party came upon deck to either sympathize or be amused. We have come to the conclusion that sea-sickness receives no sympathy. It is more amusing than otherwise. Breakfast was elegantly served by our cooks, to which all did justice with whetted appetites. On we sped down the Bay, and about 9 o'clock passed the Wolf Trap Light. We signaled the keeper in passing, who courteously returned the compliment. At 12 o'clock we were breast of York Spit and in sight of Old Point Comfort, where we arrived about 2 o'clock, p. m. We passed around
the Point and anchored in Hampton Roads abreast of the Hygeia Hotel. After dinner had been served to us, the larger part of our party went on shore to view the sights for which this place and surroundings are renowned. Thinking that our impressions expressed in the form of usual correspondence would be desultory, we have proposed to individually give those impressions of each wonder and curiosity witnessed by us, and first we must begin with the Hygeia Hotel.

This Hotel is a magnificent frame structure about three hundred feet in length by fifty in width. It is composed of two wings, having in the centre an open pavilion for dancing and pleasure. We were pleased with the architecture, being that of the graceful and airy style. We were kindly welcomed by the proprietor, Harrison Phoebus, Esq., a native of the Eastern Shore of Md., who gave us paper, &c., to send the first greeting to our friends at home. We had rather spend the greater part of our Summers at home, but had nature formed our inclinations differently and had given us a predilection for Summer Resorts, we certainly would select this grand place for that purpose. At night we returned to the Hotel to hear the music and witness the gay pleasure of the fashionables. The Pavilion was lighted up and many couples were keeping time to the sweet strains of some waltz. We noticed an excess of brass buttons. This being a station for army and navy officers, of course they enjoyed the near festivities of the Hotel. We didn't like to see so many uniforms mingling in the civic pleasures, especially when we reflected that amid their riotous round of gaiety some poor tar was waiting at the wharf in his steam launch to convey his master to his sleeping room on the Powhatan after his surfeit of enjoyment. The Hotel fronts the Bay, looking towards the Capes, and the swell from the sea washing up against the very foundations makes a grand accompaniment to the music of the dancers. After all our reflections, we concluded amongst ourselves that the Hygeia Hotel was the Summer Resort of our part of the world.

We have gone ahead of our subject somewhat for the purpose of giving a fuller description of the Hygeia Hotel. After seeing the Hotel early in the evening, we embarked in our little Ocean Boat, the Magnet, for the purpose of viewing the Rip Raps, which is in Hampton Roads, nearly opposite the Hotel, and also for the purpose of boarding the man-of-war, Powhatan. Our little boat was under the command of R. C. Combs, but for some reason, either owing to the heavy swell which prevails here or from some other cause, we were unable to approach near to either, although the officer in command of the man-of-war seemed anxious that we should board her. Unsuccessful in these attempts we returned to our vessel, having in our mind's eye the great and once impregnable defence of our country, Fortress Monroe.

Having landed again at the Point, we entered the Fortress by the entrance on the Bayside and passed along a short parapet about 100 yards in length, mounted with heavy guns at intervals of about 20 feet. Having reached the end of the parapet, we crossed the drawbridge, which at the place spans the moat which encircles the Fortress, and entering the postern were ushered into the main part of the defences. For the purpose of making an inspection of the embattlements we mounted the highest parapet which led us completely around the Fortress, giving us a better view of all to be seen, together which the beautiful scenery of the surrounding country. In the distance to the East was the Atlantic, to the North our own Chesapeake, on the South Hampton Roads and James River and on the West the picturesque little Town of Hampton, towering over which was the lofty dome of the Soldier's Home.

"On one side lay the Ocean, and on one

Lay a great water, and the sun was full."

Coming out again we passed by an enclosure of about an acre covered entirely with shells and balls at a depth of six feet. We suppose that these murderous missiles were intended for war. We could see no cause for such an outlay in time of peace, except to frighten the Grand Duke Alexis who inspected them a short time ago. Our reflections on this seeming great defence was, that no human power, and that all the navies of the world combined could not demolish
the fortification. We gloried in the strength of our country, but our feathers fell when we were told that the meanest monitor of our navy could easily dismount every gun upon the battlements. We believed this, for the reason that we saw an evident decay going on in the fortifications, and noticed a great many guns in a dilapidated condition, and no "iron mouthed messenger" peeped from many of the port holes. Why is it then that so much of the public money is annually spent in manning and keeping in repair such useless defences? It is well possibly that the officers of our army should have stations and it is well that it is adjacent to the Hygeia Hotel. A question arose in our party why it was called "Fortress Monroe" when all others of a similar nature were called Forts. Some wit suggested that probably it was Mrs. Fort, and was the mother of all the other Forts. Our party having again returned to our vessel, after mature deliberation, came to the conclusion that Fortress Monroe was the greatest Fort in the country.

Subsequent to our inspection of Fortress Monroe, a party of us decided to sail in the Magnet (still under the command of Capt. Combs) to Hampton, about 2 miles up the West shore of Hampton Roads, intent to see the Soldier's Home, the greatest attraction at that place. On our way thither we first saw clams as they were being caught on the beach by some boys. A small number were bought and tasted, but with evident disgust in the palates of each. They were, as we thought, not fit to eat, but our subsequent experience taught us to the contrary. We here first came in contact with the different small fish common to this region and what we call a hog fish, they call a crocus, while we have no variety answering to what they call hog fish. How I am digressing! When last heard from, our party were en route for Hampton. We arrived there about 6 o'clock in the evening, and through the kindness of one of the soldiers, we were shown through the Soldier's Home.

The Soldier's Home is a large brick building 250 by 100 feet, surrounded by beautiful grounds and commanding an extensive view of Hampton and Fortress Monroe. Our soldier friends first carried us in the main entrance and to the dome. Descending, we visited the dormitories on the successive floors, known as companies A, B and C, corresponding to the different upper stories of the building. On the first floor were the rooms of the officers in charge and the library used by the soldiers, containing about ten thousand volumes of standard literature. We were next shown the cooking apartment and its many modern contrivances for culinary purposes. All the cooking is done by steam, and the party in charge assured us, that he could cook a breakfast for the inmates of the building, about 600, in fifteen minutes. Then we were shown the wash and drying room, engine room, and the theatre, a very nice little affair, bye the bye, and from which one of our party gleaned many serviceable hints, to be utilized in our Town Hall. Lastly, we were shown the fire department, which was all right with but one exception, and that was; that the fire engine was called "Hugh L. Bond." We don't know what appropriateness his name can have to a fire engine at the Soldier's Home, but we are well assured that it would create instead of extinguishing a fire in our county. This finished us, and thanking our kind friend, we left for the vessel, and on the way had a race with a "cat" boat, and we came very near beating her. These "cat" boats do run like all the world, and I would like to see one in our waters just for a curiosity. We were informed by two of our party that they had purchased two at $600 each and had given their checks for the same. I suppose they will be along after a while. We were at the vessel in time for tea, and retired early, as we had extemporized a theatrical performance written by Capt. Ben Foxwell, called "Possum." The pit was crowded and the play commenced, Edelen taking the part of schoolmaster and Capt. Ben Foxwell that of school boy. The point in the piece was an attempt on the part of the school boys in the class to spell opossum with a "P." Capt. Ben, who was about fourth in the class, was trying to find out from the mistakes of the others how to spell the word. We will give, as well as we can recollect, the play as it was rendered by the company.

POSSUM.

Scene -- A school house near the village of Leonardtown, the school-master
discovered seated and a number of boys are standing before him in a spelling class.

School-master -- "Possum?"

1st Boy -- "P-o-s-pos-s-u-m, possum."

S. M. -- "Next."

2nd Boy -- "P-o-s-pos-s-o-m-sum, possum."

S. M. -- "Next."

3d Boy -- "P-o-ss-pos-s-u-m-sum, possum."

S. M. -- "Next."

4th Boy -- "P-oss-pos-s-o-m-m, possum."

S. M. -- "No, sir; it don't commence with a P. Next."

Capt. Ben -- "Says I, you say it don't commence with a P?"

S. M. -- (rather angrily.) "No, sir; it don't commence with a P."

Capt. Ben -- "Oh! Says I, then it ain't no use for me to try it."

S. M. -- "Next.:

R. C. Combs --"O-p-o-s-s-u-m-, Possum."

Capt. Ben -- "Oh! Says I, if you had called Opossum off to me I could have spelt it too."

The curtain falls.

The performance over, all of us slept our second night away.

Friday, July 13th. Early on this morning our party got up to witness our departure from Old Point Comfort. At six o'clock, the Captain spread the sails on our little vessel and, with a drawing breeze, we bounded out of Hampton Roads on our course to the Capes. Nothing of unusual interest occurred in our run out, except the courtesy returned by the "Thimble" to our signal while passing. About this time a consultation was held as to whether or not we should sail to Cobb's Island through the Inlet or go there by the Ocean way, King, especially, insisting that the Inlet was the safer route. His wish was seemingly acquiesced in, and thus confident, he retired below to take a nap. We, the others of the party, not so prudent, had a secret understanding that we would go the Ocean way. While our friend was sleeping in unconscious safety, at 10 o'clock, a. m., we cleared Capes Charles and Henry and were gliding over the waters of the mighty Atlantic.

Now we see for the first time the majestic waste of waters spread out before us. Our minds began to appreciate the grand thoughts suggested by the Ocean. Many creations of Poets, which long ago we had read, now force themselves on us in all their grandeur and beauty, among others the great apostrophe of Byron. "Roll on, thou deep and dark blue ocean, roll! Ten thousand fleets sweep over thee in vain." We could waft our imagination to the uttermost limits of its water, even to the "spicy Isles of Araby the blest." We could think, that the very waters which tossed our little boat were once washing the happy and beautiful shores of the tropics. Some of our thoughts were sad when we called to mind the rage of destruction which could roar over its face in place of the now placid and smiling surface.

"O'er the glad waters of the dark blue sea,

Our thoughts as boundless, and our souls as free,

Far as the breeze can bear, the billows foam,

Survey our empire and behold our home.

Oh, who can tell! Not thou, luxurious slave

Whose soul would sicken o'er the heaving wave.

Let him who crawls enamor'd of decay

Cling to his couch and sicken years away;

Oh, who can tell, save he whose heart hath tried!

And danced in triumph o'er the waters wide,

The exulting sense -- the pulse's maddening play,

That thrills the wanderer of that trackless way."

An apparent awe took possession of the party in presence of such majesty. All seemed to feel the power of the Infinite and for sometime we were silent trying to conceive the grand glorious waste before us. We felt the nearness
of danger but knew that

"He who marks the sparrow's fall"

would hear us, when the face of the waters began to frown upon us. At 12 o'clock, we were about 10 miles outside of the Capes and off Smith's Island Light. At this time, our friend, who had retired below, with thoughts of the Inlet in his mind, came upon deck, and after rubbing his eyes took a long and serious survey, when turning to Captain Ben he remarked, in measured tones, " Captain, this is about the biggest Inlet that I ever saw or heard of." The Captain's laugh opened his eyes to the trick, and making the best of matters, he got out his lines and went fishing for sharks. The breeze, too, began to die out, and our boat lay nearly motionless at the mercy of the Ocean roll.

"As idle as a painted Ship

Upon a painted Ocean."

Our party began to get sea-sick, with some exceptions. Those who could, tried to pass the time by fishing from the side of the vessel. Very soon, two of the party captured two dog sharks, which created great excitement and seemed to rouse up the sick ones. Our cooks, for a long time, refused to touch them, calling them wild fish, but after some persuasion, they were induced to dress and served one for dinner. We thought the fish delicious, and many were the praises lavished upon the dish. After dinner, however, some suggestions were made as to the man eating propensities of the shark. Anyhow, "Sport" had to eat the other one. All that we could get out of any of the party, when asked how he liked shark, was, that "he could eat it, but didn't hanker after it." We discovered, however, after arriving at Cobb's Island, that this species of shark was considered delicious, and commanded a high price in the Norfolk market. In this way we floated along slowly until 4 o'clock in the evening, when a slight breeze came up from the South West, and at six o'clock we passed between the breakers, and cast our anchor in the harbor of Cobb's Island.

CHAPTER II

At the Island.

We had now arrived at the ultima thule of our voyage, and when the rattling of the chains told us that the anchor was cast, our hearts gave vent to pent-up emotions with which danger and the sea had filled them, and while some gave thanks to the Giver, others showed their appreciation by "here's to Cobb's Island"! Having arrived about 6 o'clock on Friday evening, and as yet there was time to take a cursory glance of the "Mysterious Island," our party availed themselves of it and disembarked. We were met on the wharf by Warren Cobb, a son of Nathan Cobb, the owner of the Island, who gave us a kind welcome, and invited us to the Hotel. Our commissary was busily engaged in laying in a stock of "spots" for our supper. After taking a hasty view, darkness overtook us, and we returned to our vessel. Supper was soon served, and next came an order from the Commissary, Albert Fenwick, that while at the Island the party should be self-supporting, accordingly, he assigned to each member of the party a certain duty to be performed on the morrow. The following was the composition of the several divisions so assigned. Gunners -- Edelen, Freeman, Simms Fenwick, Neal, Henry Combs. Fishermen -- Albert Fenwick, R. C. Combs, Capts. Tyler and Sol and Ben Foxwell. Hard crabbers, King and Wile. Shell pickers and Egg hunters -- Drury and Morgan. The said duties having been understood and acquiesced in, we retired, and after a repetition of "Possum," fell asleep. Saturday July 14. A cloudless sunrise sprung out of the Ocean, and all were on deck at an early hour, eager to enjoy the pleasures of the day. An early breakfast was enjoyed, and then came the stationing of the several divisions in their places on land and water. The gunners, after having hired a set of decoys, were carried over to Bone Island, a small barren place to the south of Cobb's Island, at a distance of about two miles. The shell pickers and egg hunters were carried to Cobb's Island, the fishermen went to the fishing ground, and the crabbers were left on
the boat, plentifully supplied with bait, lines, nets, &c. While all the others were engaged in performing their several duties, your correspondent was stationed on Cobb's Island, and as it was understood that each party should report at night, concerning the pleasure and sights enjoyed, he will now give his impressions of the wonders and sights seen by him. First, after landing we went to the Hotel, where we met a pleasant party of young men from Northampton county, Va. We enjoyed a social talk with them for an hour or two, after which we called on Nathan Cobb, the owner of the Island, for the purpose of gathering some points of the early history of the place. Mr. Cobb is an old man, about 85 years of age, but time seems not to have conquered him, and with a clear mind, and in a strong voice, he gave us a history of this wild and wonderful Island. He gave us several papers to read, among which was an original grant from George 2nd in 1734, at which time it was called "Sand Shoal Island." As far as we could gather, we will give the history of Cobb's Island.

The Island at low water is seven miles long, and not over 400 yards wide at the widest part. It contains about 1000 acres of land, mostly in marsh and uncultivated. Not over 20 acres are under cultivation. At high water there is not over 100 acres dry land, upon which are built the Hotel and buildings. The Hotel and buildings are situated about half way between the wharf, which is on the inlet side, and the ocean, being about 150 yards from each. The buildings consist of two rows of houses running from East to West, and could easily accommodate 200 guests. There are other smaller buildings erected by parties who, in former years, frequented the Island. One building, called the "Baltimore Building," was erected by citizens of Baltimore, and another, called the "Virginia House" erected by Virginians. All the buildings, from some cause, seem to be neglected and undergoing decay. But one thing holds out, as of old, and that is the Bar Room. It seems that no matter what adverses overtake men or places, this institution is still in full blast. We patronized it pretty extensively, and should be excused, as the atmosphere of Cobb's Island leads to exhilaration. Midway between the two main buildings is the skeleton of a whale which floated up on the beach many years ago. Many of the party brought home relics of this leviathan. The original grant of the Island, then known as "Sand Shoal Island," was made by Wm. Gooch, Provincial Governor of Va., on the 20th day of August, 1734. At that time, the Island contained 86 acres, 1 Rood and 36 Poles. The grant was given to Wm. Satchel and Andrew John Fabin. It was stipulated in the grant that Satchel and Fabin should pay to the Crown the sum of two shillings annually, on the feast day of St. Michael, the Archangel. Nathan F. Cobb purchased the Island in 1840 from Elizabeth Fitchett, a grand daughter of Andrew J. Fabin, one of the original grantees, paying therefore one hundred and fifty dollars in money, and fifty bushels of salt. In 1840, there was not five acres of the Island that the sea did not wash over at high tide. A greater part of the Island has been reclaimed by Mr. Cobb, by bringing boat loads of earth from the main land of Virginia. The first house erected by him was pointed out to us, through which the sea washed at high tide. Now, it is, at least, 100 yards from the highest tide. Mr. Cobb, being originally from Massachusetts, called this place Cape Cod. He has been married three times, and should his last wife, who is still living, happen to die, we are very sure he would make the number even. We regretted very much to see this renowned Summer Resort not open for the accommodation of visitors this season. With some outlay and judicious management, it could be made one of the most desirable places on the Atlantic Coast. A line of steamers could easily, in the summer season, be ran between the Island and Norfolk for the convenience of travelers. We fear that there is a little too much contention between the parties in interest. They should relinquish their claims to some company, for a limited number of years, receiving, of course, a share of the profits annually. Where people can't agree, some one should agree for them. Cobb's Island is a grand place, and should be the Summer Resort of the Atlantic Coast. With a little more concord, and with some outlay of money, there would be in the language of "Col. Sellers," "Millions in it."

Through with our gleanings of the early history of the Island, we sailed forth, basket on arm, to perform the duty assigned us, that of shell picking and
egg hunting. A walk of a hundred and fifty yards brought us to the Beach.

We stood upon the Beach with the wide waste of waters before us. The majestic roll of the Ocean as it nears the shore -- "the long wash of Australasian Seas," -- seethed and boiled as it met with resistance from the land. We contemplated the grand picture spread out before us --

"a coast

Of ever shifting sand, and far away

The phantom circle of a moaning sea."

Far off in the distance was a line of breakers, which, nearing the shore on one side, made a line of white as if some sea monster was ploughing up the briny deep in his frolicsome sport. Our minds recurred to the suggestive lines of the Laureate, and well and beautifully his thoughts came back to us. We had given our fancy full play, and in all the sorrow of our nature we repeated --

"Break, break, break

On thy cold gray stones, O sea!

And I would that my tongue could utter

The thoughts that arise in me.

Break, break, break

At the foot of thy crags, O sea!

But the tender Grace of a day that is dead

Will never come back to me."

Our duty was to pick the shells and hunt the eggs which abound in profusion all along the Ocean side of the Island. The main or common beach, over which the sea ordinarily washes, is about 50 feet wide, of hard and compact sand. Beyond this seems to be another beach of pure white sand about a 100 feet wide. Upon this beach is found the beautiful shells, which it was our duty to gather. Very soon our eyes were attracted by some, half buried in the sand, which we picked, only to be thrown down by finding prettier ones as we advanced. The most beautiful were the conchs and whelk shells. What we call conchs, are called whelks -- while the conchs are those having spiral layers at the tops, and are by far the prettiest. Our first thought was to apply one of these shells to our ear, to compare and see the sweet illusion of our youth. We remembered the picture of the "Lake" Poet, who, rising to the height of as lofty aspiration as ever was conceived, either in poetry or philosophy, proclaims the awful truth that the universe itself -- the material universe -- is a hollow shell, from which the ear of faith alone can hear the mysterious murmurings of eternity. This moral is expounded by means of one of the fairest images that ever entered into the heart of poet to conceive, -- beautiful in itself and sublime in its application:

"I have seen

A curious child, who dwelt upon a tract

Of inland ground, applying to his ear

The convolutions of a smooth-lipped shell,

To which, in silence hushed, his weary soul

Listened intensely, and his countenance soon

Brightened with joy; for, murmuring from within,

Were heard sonorous cadences, whereby

To his belief the monitor expressed

Mysterious union with native sea.

Even such a shell the universe itself

Is to the ear of faith."

Sad, sad it is that the ruthless hand of modern science had swept away this beautiful illusion and picture. It is possible that if the Poet had known the scientific cause of the "murmurings" of "mysterious union" the world would have lost the sublime figure. We soon gathered as many shells as we could carry and lugged them along to the vessel, where we arrived just in time for dinner, and after the others had come aboard. Our gaze was greeted by innumerable specimens of the feathery and finny tribe, piled up in abundance on the deck of the vessel, but as each party has to give its own account we will wait until after dinner before we call upon them for their reports. To dinner we go, and enjoyed some things of the morning's sport, which were the splendid Trout and "Spots" caught by the fishermen -- together with some of the spoils of the gunners. Dinner over, each division was called on for a report. The gunners came first and showed their lot of birds -- Willets, Gray-backs, laughing Gulls, barking Gulls and Curlews. Of these birds, the two first named and the last are worth eating, being in fact delicious. The Willet is very much like our "Plover," and the Gray-back answers to our "Jack Snipe." The gunners reported fine sport and incessant shooting. Two of the party, Col. Fenwick and Henry Combs, seemed to take a mortal antipathy to the Gulls -- one towards the barking and the other the laughing Gulls. We can't imagine the cause of this, as they are not considered good to eat. We suppose it was because they barked at one and laughed at the other. Anyhow, such a goodly number of each was killed that the barking Gulls had begun to growl and those left of the laughing Gulls were filled with sighing. These two varieties followed our boat to the Capes on our return to bid these two gentlemen farewell. The fishermen were called next, who reported excellent sport, but had some trouble in finding the fishing ground. They at last employed one of the native fishermen, who soon carried them to the right place. In a short time they had caught two or three dozen fine trout, when they pulled up stakes and came on board in time for dinner. Our fisherman-guide rather got to us as he charged the party fifty cents a head for showing them. We could not see the fairness of this, as he said that he only charged fifty cents for one, but if there were twenty in the boat, he would charge fifty cents for each. He never lumped anything. He was not up to the lumping business. So much for the fishermen. How about the crabbers? It was amusing to see the faces of the "crabbers" when they were called upon to report. Before they had spoken, we knew that they had not done "the task assigned." We were confident, however, that excuses would be as thick as the birds. King was spokesman, and in an humble voice stated that as his companion was one of the Hilton proscribed, and opposed to performing servile work on Saturday, the Jewish Sabbath, and as it required two men to capture one crab, one to pull up the line and the other to use the net, he begged to be excused for this dereliction of duty. The ingenuity of this excuse was accepted, coupled with promises of a better performance the next day. We were then called to the dinner of dinners -- trout, birds, clams, oysters, and all things common to this region. One of our party, not content with the bill of fare, enjoyed a few mussels, which he pronounced very good. The oysters are too salt, but after being soaked a short time in fresh water and stewed are very fine. We noticed too a reversal of the order of nature, or, at least, our order of nature at home. With us the mussel is a parasite to the oyster, while there the oyster is such to the mussel. The mussel is very large, sometimes over four inches in length, and serves as an excellent bait for trout. After dinner our party again dived up for operations, with some slight changes. A party of clammers took the water, while others went for birds and fish. The clams are caught by wading in water about three feet deep. Your feet pressing upon the bottom comes in contact with the clam, which is buried in the sand or mud at the depth of about three inches. The clam is then easily caught with the hand. In a very short time they had caught two or three bushels. We were assigned to the fishermen and didn't get a bite. The party were not so successful as in the morning; owing possibly to not being able to find the fishing ground, although two Captains, who fished in the morning, had a contention about it. The trouble is, that at flood tide the Inlet is all water, while at ebb tide it is all land or nearly so -- and then the tides are so rapid in the ebb and flow. The winds are
hardly ever taken into consideration for the purposes of navigation. No matter how favorable the wind is, no boat can make headway against the tides if they happen to be unfavorable. This was a great detriment to our fishing, as it required so much lead to sink the line you could not tell when the fish had taken the bait. We returned to the vessel about sundown with but poor success. The gunners and clammers had arrived before us and were awaiting supper. Freeman had agreed to give us a bird supper cooked in wine, and was busily engaged on the task. We had grown impatient, but at last the summons came and no man was out of place. Long live our friend Freeman for the dainty dish fit for a King. Whether we ate one or ten birds we don't remember. We know we consumed birds enough to make us tight. Of course nothing but taking a smoke and sleeping could be done after such a supper. So, accordingly, after enjoying the one, we indulged in the other -- not even "Possum" was put upon the boards.

Sunday, July 15th. Another pretty day, the Christian Sabbath, but as we must live, we determined to go foraging again. Some slight changes were made in the divisions -- but the crabbers remained intact. Great things were expected from them this day. Up to this time crabs had been the only thing we had missed. Early in the morning breakfast was served, a new feature of which being an omelet of bird's eggs which had been found the day before, and which was pronounced excellent. After breakfast, a small party of us again went ashore to see the remaining sights -- being the flock of wild geese and the Life Saving Station. We thought the geese a great curiosity. The flock numbers about 25 or 30, among which are two of a smaller size than the ordinary wild goose, called Brants. We were struck with their intelligence. Old Mr. Cobb seems to have them under his especial charge, and in answer to his stentorian and broad accent "manners to master," we could see them bowing and chattering in their language, especially the Brants. There were several goslings in the flock. We were told that during the winter season they were sometimes away from home several days, but invariably returned, bringing with them new companions, who in their turn became domesticated. We regretted very much our failure in not seeing the Life Saving Station, which was owing to the absence of the officer in charge. The object is to rescue the crews of the ships that have been wrecked on the breakers off this coast. We understood that some good service has already been performed in saving ship wrecked crews. We noticed in many places along the beach remains of wrecks, which, we suppose, make a station on this part of the coast a necessity. In this way the day wore away until about dinner, when the party again met on the boat. Each division gave a favorable report with the exception of the crabbers. When called upon this time Wile acted as spokesman and had about the same excuse, saying that he was ready, but that Sunday being the Christian's Sabbath, his companion was opposed to working. Thus, as two Sabbaths came on consecutive days, we were debarred the pleasure of eating crabs. Our pleasure ended at Cobb's Island, we concluded to weigh anchor, which we did about 5 o'clock, and steered our vessel South, down the Inlet, towards the Capes.

CHAPTER III

From the Island.

We bade farewell to the Mysterious Island, and the swelling sails gave life again to our little boat. Owing to the shallowness of the water in the Inlet and the irregularity of the channel, it became a necessity for us to employ a pilot. We soon secured one by the name of Richardson, who came on board and undertook this employment. Now we are "Homeward Bound" and our thoughts revert to home. We are nearing, at each bound of our vessel, the greatest place to us of all the world. Those who had friends to watch their return, and those who had

"A nearer one still, and a dearer one,"

began to be homesick and meditate upon the pleasure of their return.

The wind was unfavorable, but the tide was fair, which made our sail down the Inlet tolerably easy. Our pilot was in charge, and about dark, when the tide changed, we came to anchor in Magothy Bay -- between Prout's Island and the main land of Virginia. We rested here for the night, enjoying our usual "Possum" and other things of interest which had transpired on the Island. Early the next morning, we made sail and passed out of Magothy Bay into "Fisherman's," between Smith's Island and Cape Charles. At this junction, our pilot informed us that this was as far as it was necessary for him to pilot us -- that the balance of the way to the Capes was easy to navigate -- informing us at the same time that where we then were was a great place for fishing. We believed his representations about the navigation, and cast our anchor for the purpose of indulging in the fishing sport. Our commissary paid him five dollars and he soon left to a small boat and we saw him no more.

We determined to spend the morning here, leaving time enough in the evening to make our run to the Capes. Everybody now felt a desire to fish, crabbers and all. Lines and bait were soon in readiness, and while the expert fishermen boarded the Magnet, the amateurs fished from the side of the vessel. In a very short time we had taken two or three dozen of a species of fish called "Mullet," but entirely different in appearance and taste from our Mullet. The spoils were served for dinner and enjoyed. After dinner lounging was in order, as it now became necessary that we should wait for the tide, which we had lost by turning to our pleasure. Some time in the evening, the tide changed and we again made sail towards the Capes, certain, at least, of arriving there before nightfall. On we sped -- on we tacked. At each length of our boat the water became more shallow, until it became so shallow, that in the opinion of our Captain, the navigation became dangerous. It was then for the first time that some of our party felt an interest in the throwing of the lead. After a consultation between the sailors on board, they determined to anchor and wait until the beginning of the next flood tide, which would not occur until the next morning, as at that time there would be more water over the shallows, Captain Ben insisting that, as the rise and fall of the tides were six feet, that any part which was covered with water at low tide certainly could float us at high tide, as our boat only drew 3 1/2 feet of water. Here we were pent up, strangers on a strange water. Many were the maledictions we put on our pilot, who had left us in the lurch in this manner. We accused him of deceiving us, and we really think that he should return us our money, as it will be seen hereafter that we had to employ another to relieve us from this greatest trouble. We blessed our luck, but made the best of matters. We were here for another night, and we patronized the "comfort." Having come to this conclusion, we cast anchor in a little harbor on the South Western extremity of Smith's Island.

Smith's Island is about 10 miles from Cape Charles, in the Atlantic Ocean, and is about 5 miles in length by a half mile in width. It presents a better appearance from the Ocean than any of the small Islands on this part of the coast, being covered by a thick growth of live oaks, and apparently of a soil which could be cultivated. We heard that it takes its name from Capt. John Smith of Pocahontas fame, and originally belonged to the Lee family of Virginia. Nothing better to do, and as we were booked for Fisherman's for another day and night, we determined to go on shore and take a survey, and to fill to completion or collection of shells. For some time fears were entertained whether or not the yawl boat could make headway against the tide which was making out towards the Ocean. Reckless John "Pump," however, dared the attempt and satisfied our minds. We then went on shore. On landing, we were struck with the beautiful sand, and so firm and compact that a buggy and pair could easily be driven the circuit of the Island without making an impression. One of our party, thinking that he was jumping on the beach at Paw-Paw Hollow, paid for his rashness. Between this first beach and the second is a natural moat, which, we were told, encircles the Island. Beyond the moat is the second beach, upon which we found some very pretty shells, although the shells are not as abundant or as pretty as those at Cobb's Island. We gave our cooks the privilege of going on shore
for the purpose of getting some shells for "Mary." They seemed to be delighted and filled their baskets, coat sleeves and breeches. The Light House at Smith's Island is the highest in the United States. We could see it towering above the trees and could easily see it from Cobb's Island, a distance of 30 miles. The surf at Smith's Island rolled in to the shore more majestically than at Cobb's Island, but we accounted for this by knowing that the wind, which was blowing pretty high, was beating in directly on that part of the beach contiguous to our harbor. Then the breakers are not so plentiful along the line of the beach, and are further out in the Ocean, giving the sea more space to renew its strength before dashing its force against the beach. The Light House was situated on a part of the Island distant from our harbor, and none of our party was able to visit and inspect it. We regretted this very much, as from the top of it we could have had a commanding view of the Ocean on one side and Virginia on the other, of a radii of 50 miles. During the excursion of some of our party on shore, Captains Sol Foxwell and Tyler and R. C. Combs went out in the Magnet on a sounding expedition for the purpose of discovering an outlet to our watery prison. We though this party somewhat reckless, and many were the eyes that watched anxiously the course of the little waif upon the waters of the Ocean. We watched her until nearly invisible, on account of the distance and the heavy sea. They explored nearly ten miles out and returned with doleful news, that no channel could be discovered. They had gone nearly to the "Dry Isaacs," about midway between the two Capes. They succeeded, however, in discovering a new Island, to which no name had been given. Like Captain Nemo, they planted their standard upon it and called it Combs' Island. We hope the next geographer will take notice of this. The Island lies about half way between the South Western extremity of Smith's Island and the "Dry Isaacs." Of course, it will belong to St. Mary's county, and we will have the eighth district there. The party found some live whelks, which they brought on board with them. Captain Ben has since thrown them overboard near Foxwell's wharf. We may get some of the stock -- if so, the county can be supplied. The evening came, and still we were imprisoned. Like criminals we rested that night. "Possum" went by unheeded, "we bitterly thought of the morrow."

Tuesday, July 17th. The sunrise was beautiful and betokened a pleasant day. Our thoughts were, alone, concerning our escape from the jail of waters. We were waiting for the last of flood, to take the highest tide to get over the shallows. Our Captains having attained this or nearly so, hoisted sail and we commenced to tack about. On the first tack we made about an inch. We kept on tacking, and after about twenty tacks, we lost about five inches. We soon found out that in this way we would return to Cobb's Island, and as we were going towards home, we thought it advisable to keep what we already had, and our sails were again lowered and anchor cast. We were in a terrible fix. We thought at one time of writing home and telling our friends to expect us no more, but there was no postoffice through which the news of our imprisonment could be sent. We had settled down to the inevitable, and were having hearts for any fate when we discovered in the distance a little boat making for us. Very soon she crossed our bows, and we saw a man and a boy on board of her. Having been once deceived by these Inlet pilots, we were very particular in approaching or employing another. We determined, however, through necessity, to speak with this man. A consultation was held as to the mode of questioning him, which resulted in the conclusion that Captain Ben should be the spokesman of the party. This decided upon, we hailed him and he came on board. We will report, as far as we can recollect, the conversation between them.

Captain Ben. -- "What is the price of butter down here?"

Fisherman. -- "Twenty-five cents."

Captain Ben. -- "Do you know Mr. Cobb?"

Fisherman. -- "Oh! Yes, very well."

Captain Ben. -- "Are you going fishing?"

Fisherman. -- "No -- I am going over the fish house at Cape Charles to get a load of fish."

Captain Ben. -- "What do you do with them?"

Fisherman. -- "I sell them on the mainland for fertilizing purposes."

Captain Ben. -- "Which is the best channel out of this place?"

Fisherman. -- "Well, you go a short distance towards the Capes, then turn a short distance towards the Ocean, then turn a short distance towards the Capes, then turn a short distance towards the Ocean, then pass by a stake about half way between the "Dry Isaacs" and Cape Charles."

Captain Ben, for the first time, was put out, and we determined to employ this man to pilot us out of the place. As we thought him one of the most original characters we ever saw, we must devote some space to an account of him. He represented himself by the name of John Half.

Half, apparently, was a man of about 28 years of age. At first he seemed to be bashful and reserved, and only answered in monosyllables. He succeeded at last, however, in breaking the ice of reserve and became very communicative. He first assured us, that he had never taken a glass of whiskey, sworn an oath, played a game of cards or used tobacco in any way. His boast seemed to be -- his strength. We inquired about his weight, thinking that to be about 150 or 160 pounds, but were surprised when he told us that his weight was 214 pounds. We at first doubted this, but believed it when he showed us his muscular limbs. He certainly had been just wound up when he came on board of us, as there was no end to him when he commenced talking. We believed his other virtues as above enumerated, but this we do know, that he can tell as many questionable stories as the next one -- and could laugh enough for his audience. Among other things, he stated, in speaking of his strength, that he could crush a clam shell in one hand. Now, this we were disposed to doubt, and that doubt was confirmed by hearing him say, when a clam was offered him, that once before he had attempted the same feat, and had injured his hand very seriously. Of course the party insisted then on his not doing it. Subsequently Capt. Sol got him up in the bow of the boat and secretly gave him a clam, which he crushed with all possible ease, and without doing any injury to himself. A clam is much harder to crush or open than an oyster. His next feat was placing a small button on the deck of the vessel, and then leaning over backwards, picked it up with his teeth. Many other things he did which were marvelous to us. The little boy who accompanied him was another curiosity in his way. Equally reserved, which reserve he sustained through the whole time he was on board. He refused to eat, or say anything, and sat apart from the party with a downcast expression of countenance.

"Melancholy seemed to mark him for her own."

A suggestion has been made since our return by a friend that, possibly, he was the long lost Charlie Ross. This suggestion had some weight, as our friend Hall had told us that he was originally from "Long Island." Detective Walling had better look to this.

The tide now being favorable, we made sail and steered under the direction of our new pilot. Just at this time, our first Squall came up, and our hearts kept time to the muttering of the thunder. Our pilot, undismayed, stationed himself out on the extreme end of the jib-boom, and, when the storm burst over us, seemed to enjoy it as if it was his natural element. We did not feel exactly at ease but were amused at the alacrity with which the different orders were obeyed. Our party, who had been laying around loose, and as sluggards, now awakened to the danger, and stationed themselves where wished, their only concern being that the man at the helm should hear and understand the orders of the pilot on the jib-boom. This was our first squall and except for the fury of it, we would have enjoyed it. We could see the rage of the water from afar. We could see

"The wind's feet shine along the sea."

It broke at last upon us, and in silence, except the raging of the storm, we passed over the shallows, and were off Cape Charles, and once more in our native waters. Our pilot here left us with his little boy, and we steered our course South West, towards Hampton Roads.

Our run from Cape Charles to Hampton Roads occupied from 2 o'clock in the evening until after dark, owing to adverse winds. Our first tack brought us off York Spit, and then the wind to Old Point Comfort was nearly dead ahead. Our commissary had determined to go in to Norfolk for the purpose of replenishing our larder, and to give the party an opportunity of viewing the sights in this ancient place. We passed in Hampton Roads about 10 o'clock, and we shall never forget the grand appearance of the Hygeia Hotel at night. It seemed to be lighted up from foundation to roof, and borne over the waters, we could bear the delightful strains of music, and could see the forms of the dancers, as they flitted by the openings, in the rounds of the waltz. We anchored at Norfolk about 3 o'clock on Wednesday morning, but being at such a late hour, we determined to retire and not visit the city until the next morning. Your correspondent found the rest of the party asleep when he went below, and soon joined them.

Wednesday, July 18th. We were all anxiety on this morning to get ashore and take a look at the city of Norfolk.

Some of our party had been in Norfolk before, but as several hours were now allowed us, we determined to take a more extensive view of it. We landed and went to the Atlantic Hotel, which is under the proprietorship of our old friend "Dodson," once clerk at the Fountain Hotel, in Baltimore. He welcomed us very kindly and offered us the privilege of his Hotel. Our party then separated, the commissary, with some assistance, to lay in his stock of ice and provisions, while others departed for the northern section of the city to inspect the private residences of the wealthy and to get a more extensive view of the harbor.

We walked the whole length of Freemason street, which is considered the prettiest in Norfolk. Some of the private residences are really very beautiful and magnificent, the yards and lawns seeming to be an especial object of attention. The principal shade trees are "Crepe Myrtle" and "Magnolia." With us, the myrtle is quite diminutive -- at Norfolk, it grows very large and serves both for shade and ornament. At the end of Freemason street, near the basin, is the residence of Mr. Todd, a wealthy gentleman of Norfolk. The grounds surrounding the house are laid off with great taste. We did not go in, although the grounds are daily open for visitors. Our time was limited and we made our way back to the Hotel. Take out Freemason street and we have no hesitancy in saying that Norfolk is the dirtiest city in the United States. An almost intolerable stench comes in contact with your olfactory organs at every step, and, just on the side of the Atlantic Hotel, there is a cess-pool, into which is thrown nearly all the filth of this part of the city. We did not wonder that this place was once attacked by yellow fever. Our only wonder was that this fiend did not make a yearly visit. We were more than surprised, as we knew that this could be easily corrected, and wondered that our friend Dodson should allow such a hole in such close proximity to his fine Hotel. We had occasion, too, to walk several squares down Water street, a street running the whole length of the city parallel to the wharves. This is the negro street, and we saw five thousand of them at least laying and lounging on the street corners, enjoying the sweet pleasures of freedom. They certainly were doing nothing, and had been doing nothing for a long time, if we could judge from the style of clothing which they generally wore. At about 11 o'clock, our party again met at the Atlantic Hotel, preparatory to going on board. The party were soon together and off we tramped to the dock. Our boat, the Magnet, was in waiting for us, which we boarded and were pulling for our vessel when some one suggested that we should visit one of the three Monitors which were at
anchor in the harbor. Accordingly we made for one, and after being welcomed very kindly by the sailors, we went on board of the Catskill.

The Catskill is about 200 feet long and is made entirely of iron platings, with a thickness of six inches. The deck upon which we landed was about 2 1/2 feet above the surface of the water. This Monitor has a war reputation, having engaged in the bombardment of Fort Fisher. We were shown several indentations in the turret to the depth of 4 or 5 inches, which had been made by balls and shells from the Confederate batteries. We were first shown the turret, and stepped inside of it, through the port-hole. The turret is a large circular structure, midway the boat, about fifteen feet in diameter and about the same in height. There are two heavy Columbiads mounted opposite the portholes. The turret is revolving, and can easily be shifted to bear upon any point of attack. The casing of the turret is made of alternate layers of steel and iron, and measures fourteen inches in thickness. It is almost impossible for any missile of war now in use to penetrate this casing. There is one fault in the turret which the sailors themselves pointed out to us, and that was, that the top of it was made of a single sheet of iron for several feet, and we were told that during the bombardment of Fort Fisher a shell happening to strike at this place, fell inside the turret and killed a lieutenant and three men who were working the guns. The portholes can easily be closed by revolving pillars of iron, which, together with the guns and the revolving of the turret, are worked by machinery. We were next carried below the deck to see the machinery, sleeping apartment, &c. We remembered the Nautilus, and expected Captain Nemo to put the hatchways down and sink to the bottom of the water on his voyage of "Twenty Thousand Leagues under the Seas." The whole structure of the boat was of iron, and we wondered how such a body could float and be serviceable as an engine of war. The Monitor is under the command of Lieutenant Marshorn, but we saw neither the lieutenant nor any of his subordinates on board. The sailors, however, were very kind to us in showing and explaining, for which we thanked them and left for our vessel.

As soon as all the party had arrived on board, about 11 o'clock, we hoisted sail, and for the first time turned the head of our vessel towards home. A fair breeze soon carried us out of Elizabeth River and out of Hampton Roads, and by 2 o'clock we were leaving Old Point Comfort in the misty distance behind us. We had determined to anchor in Dickeron's Bay on this evening for the purpose of allowing some of our party to fish for Sheepshead, but just as we were nearing York Spit another squall struck us from the South West, which entirely knocked the idea of fishing out of us. For some reason or other, the programme was changed, and it was determined on that we should keep on up the Bay and indulge in this sport at Point Lookout. This was our second squall and a little more severe than the first. Our foresail had to be lowered and a reef taken in the mainsail. Everything was very quiet, and we noticed many of the party getting up a little "Dutch courage." The storm soon abated, but not until after we had passed York Spit too far to return. From 4 o'clock until 6 o'clock we sailed along beautifully until we got in about 15 miles of Smith's Point Light, and then the third squall came. Its rage increased as we went on until about 10 o'clock, when it had changed to a gale. We were forced to fly before the wind, and our hope was to get safely in the nearest harbor, which was Coan River. Some of the party, not appreciating the danger, had gone below to retire, and two especially discovered, as they thought, a leak so large that they imagined they could even feel the wind blowing in on them. It didn't take them long to appoint a committee of two to inform the Captain of this direful news, nor did they stop to make their toilets. The Captain allayed their fears by telling them that the leak was nothing but bilge water, which washed out by the rolling of the vessel. We don't know whether or not this satisfied them, but this we do know, that cold as it was and light as their clothing was, they remained on deck until we had anchored in a haven of safely. We were all on deck listening intently to the voice of Captain Tyler as he called out the soundings. Our danger was, that our boat, in the heavy roll of the sea, would strike her keel or rudder on the bottom, and being injured, would either go to pieces or leave us to the mercy of the waves. This danger was
appreciated when we heard our rudder strike, and our hearts were beating, beating in silence,

"And this is in the night. Most glorious night!

Thou wert not sent for slumber! Let me be

A sharer in thy fierce and free delight --

A portion of the tempest and of thee!"

Another trouble with us was the danger in which the Magnet was. We had been towing her all the way, but now the hungry waves seemed anxious to devour her. Several times she went out of sight under the water, but bravely came to the top again, and at last reached the harbor with but the loss of her rudder, tiller and a bailer. Our foresail was again lowered, and after some hours of dread and anxiety, we anchored in the mouth of Coan River. Some one suggested that we were crossing the line when our rudder struck -- we mean the line between Maryland and Virginia, which passes near about this point. We think that this night rather unmanned Capt. Ben, who, up to this time, had been so cool in the face of danger. We couldn't see his face, but we heard him singing, "Nearer my God to Thee!" We felt the truth of the words, but we thought we were a little too much so to be comfortable.

Thursday, July 19th. The sun rose in clouds, and the day looked not very promising for those who wished to indulge in fishing. A meeting was called and the party decided to sail for home when leaving Coan River. We were much pleased with the scenery around the mouth of the river, and could easily see the fine residence of Dr. Jas. Smith on the uplands. Mrs. Coward's Summer Resort was in full view and we regretted very much that we could not go off shore to visit it. At about 9 o'clock, we made sail, our place of destination this time, being Home, Sweet Home, with the determination that nothing should turn us from our course. Our sail up the Potomac was very pleasant, except for an occasional shower of rain, which drove us below deck until it was over. We came in the mouth of Bretton's Bay about 12 o'clock, and by 1 o'clock we had turned Buzzard's Point and were in sight of old Leonardtown. A meeting was now called, R. C. Combs being in the chair, at which the following resolution was offered and unanimously adopted:

"Resolved, That the thanks of this party are due to Captains Ben and Sol Foxwell for the efficient and courteous manner in which they discharged their duties on this trip, and most especially are thanks due to Capt. Frank Tyler for his uniform, kind and obliging manner to every member of the party, thus adding greatly to their enjoyment."

The resolution was seconded by King, who in doing so made some neat and appropriate remarks. A volley was then fired and in a few moments we rounded up to Leonardtown wharf, and stepping off, shook hands with our friends who were there to welcome us home.

THE END

* * * * * * * * * * * *

EDITOR'S NOTE

The schooner, "Father and Sons," in which this party sailed was 45.9 feet in length and was built in Bretton Bay in 1870, probably at one of the two railways at the mouth of Combs Creek. She originally was owned by Thomas H. Milburn , A. C. Tennesson, and R. K. Forrest of Bretton Bay. At the time of this trip she was owned by Capt. Ben Foxwell and later was owned by Nassena Kendrich, Richard A. Wright, and Thomas P. Simms of Charles County. She caught afire and was abandoned at Alexandria, Virginia on June 30, 1915.

(See book Life On the Potomac River.)