Voyage of the Paper Canoe Part 6

Before leaving Delaware I feel it an imperative duty to the public to refer to one of her time-honored inst.i.tutions.

Persons unacquainted with the fact will find it difficult to believe that one state of the great American Republic still holds to the practice of lashing men and women, white and black. Delaware--one of the smallest states of the Union, the citizens of which are proverbially generous and hospitable, a state which has produced a Bayard--is, to her shame we regret to say, the culprit which sins against the spirit of civilization in this nineteenth century, one hundred years after the fathers of the Republic declared equal rights for all men. In treating of so delicate a subject, I desire to do no one injustice; therefore I will let a native of Delaware speak for his community.

"DOVER, DELAWARE, August 2, 1873.

"EDITOR CAMDEN SPY: According to promise, I now write you a little about Delaware. Persons in your vicinity look upon the 'Little Diamond State' as a mere bog, or marsh, and mud and water they suppose are its chief productions; but, in my opinion, it is one of the finest little states in the Union.

Although small, in proportion to the size it produces more grain and fruit than any other state in the country, and they are unexcelled as regards quality and flavor. Crime is kept in awe by that best of inst.i.tutions, the _whipping-post and pillory_!

These are the bugbear of all the northern newspapers, and they can say nothing too harsh or severe against them. The whipping-post in Kent County is situated in the yard of the jail, and is about six feet in height and three feet in circ.u.mference; the prisoner is fastened to it by means of bracelets, or arms, on the wrist; and the sheriff executes the sentence of the law by baring the convict to the waist, and on the bare back lashing him twenty, forty, or sixty times, according to the sentence. But the blood does not run in streams from the prisoner's back, nor is he thrown into a barrel of brine, and salt sprinkled over the lashes. On the contrary, I have seen them laugh, and coolly remark that 'it's good exercise, and gives us an appet.i.te.' But there are others who raise the devil's own row with their yells and horrible cries of pain. The whipping is public, and is witnessed each time by large numbers of people who come from miles around to see the culprit disgraced.

"A public whipping occurred not very long ago, and the day was very stormy, yet there were fully three hundred spectators on the ground to witness this wholesome punishment! A person who has been lashed at the whipping-post cannot vote again in this state; thus, most of the criminals who are whipped leave the state in order to regain their citizenship. The newspapers can blow until they are tired about this 'horrible, barbaric, and unchristian punishment,' but if their own states would adopt this form of punishment, they would find crime continually on the decrease. What is imprisonment for a few months or years? It is soon over with; and then they are again let out upon the community, to beg, borrow, and steal. But to be publicly whipped is an everlasting disgrace, and deters men from committing wrong. Women are whipped in the same manner, and they take it very hard; but, to my recollection, there has not been a female prisoner for some time. I did not intend to comment so long upon the whipping-posts in the state of Delaware.

"The pillory next claims our attention. This is a long piece of board that runs through the whipping-post at the top, and has holes [as per engraving] for the neck and arms to rest in a very constrained position. The prisoner is compelled to stand on his toes for an hour with his neck and arms in the holes, and if he sinks from exhaustion, as it sometimes happens, the neck is instantly broken. Josiah Ward, the villain who escaped punishment for the murder of the man Wady in your county, came into Delaware, broke into a shoe-store, succeeded in stealing one pair of shoes,--was arrested, got sixty lashes at the post, was made to stand in the pillory one hour, is now serving out a term of two years' imprisonment,--and _he never got the shoes_!

The pillory is certainly a terrible and cruel punishment, and, while I heartily favor the whipping-post, I think this savage punishment should be abolished.

"Since writing the above, I have heard that a colored woman was convicted of murder in the second degree last May, and on Sat.u.r.day the 17th of that month received sixty lashes on her bare back, and stood in the pillory one hour.

"What do you think of Delaware law, after what I have written? I have written enough for the present, so I will close, ever remaining,

"Yours very truly, P. P."

For twenty years past, Delaware and Maryland farmers have given much attention to peach culture, which has gradually declined in New Jersey and states further north. There are said to be over sixty thousand acres of land on the peninsula planted with peach-trees, which are estimated to be worth fifty dollars per acre, or three million dollars. To harvest this crop requires at least twenty-five thousand men, women, and children. The planting of an acre of peach-trees, and its cultivation to maturity, costs from thirty to forty dollars. The canners take a large portion of the best peaches, which are shipped to foreign as well as to domestic markets.

The low lands and river-sh.o.r.es of the peninsula exhale malaria which attacks the inhabitants in a mild form of ague. During the spring, summer, and early fall months, a prudent man will not expose himself to the air until after the sun has risen and dispelled the mists of morning. The same caution should be observed all through the low regions of the south, both as to morning and evening exercise. Chills and fever are the bane of the southern and middle states, as this disease affects the health and elastic vigor of the const.i.tution, and also produces great mental depression. Yet those who suffer, even on every alternate day, from chills, seem to accept the malaria as nothing of much importance; though it is a well-known fact that this form of intermittent fever so reduces the strength, that the system is unable to cope with other and more dangerous diseases for which it paves the way.

Upon a little creek, tributary to St. Martin's River, and near its confluence with the Isle of Wight Bay, a long day's pull from the swamp of Love Creek, was the old plantation home of a friend of my boyhood, Mr. Taylor, who about this time was looking out for the arrival of the paper canoe. It was a question whether I could descend Love Creek three miles, cross Rehoboth and Indian River sounds, ascend White's Creek, make a portage to Little a.s.sawaman Bay, thread the thoroughfare west of Fenwick's Island Light, cross the Isle of Wight Bay, ascend and cross St. Martin's River to Turval's Creek, and reach the home of my friend, all in one day. But I determined to attempt the task. Mr. Webb roused his family at an early hour, and I rowed down Love Creek and crossed the shallow waters of Rehoboth Bay in the early part of the day.

From Cape Henlopen, following the general contour of the coast, to Cape Charles at the northern entrance of Chesapeake Bay, is a distance of one hundred and thirty-six miles; from Cape Charles across the mouth of Chesapeake Bay to Cape Henry is thirteen miles; from Henlopen south, the state of Delaware occupies about twenty miles of the coast; the eastern sh.o.r.e of Maryland holds between thirty and forty miles, while the eastern sh.o.r.e of Virginia, represented by the counties of Accomac and Northampton, covers the peninsula to Cape Charles.

Commencing at Rehoboth Bay, a small boat may follow the interior waters to the Chesapeake Bay. The watercourses of this coast are protected from the rough waves of the ocean by long, narrow, sandy islands, known as beaches, between which the tides enter. These pa.s.sages from the sea to the interior waters are called inlets, and most of them are navigable for coasting vessels of light draught. These inlets are so influenced by the action of storms, and their sh.o.r.es and locations are so changed by them, that the cattle may graze to-day in tranquil happiness where only a generation ago the old skipper navigated his craft. During June of the year 1821 a fierce gale opened Sandy Point Inlet with a foot depth of water, but it closed in 1831. Green Point Inlet was cut through the beach during a gale in 1837, and was closed up seven years later.

Old Sinepuxent Inlet, which was forced open by the sea more than sixty years ago, closed in 1831. These three inlets were within a s.p.a.ce of three miles, and were all north of Chincoteague village. Green Run Inlet, which had a depth of about six feet of water for nearly ten years, also closed after shifting half a mile to the south of its original location. The tendency of inlets on this coast is to shift to the southward, as do the inlets on the coast of New Jersey.

Oystermen, fishermen, and farmers live along the upland, and in some cases on the island beaches. From these bays, timber, fire-wood, grain, and oysters are shipped to northern ports. The people are everywhere kind and hospitable to strangers. A mild climate, cheap and easily worked soils, wild-fowl shooting, fine oysters and fishing privileges, offer inducements to Northerners and Europeans to settle in this country; the mild form of ague which exists in most of its localities being the only objection. While debating this point with a native, he attacked my argument by saying:

"Law sakes! don't folks die of _something_, any way? If you don't have fever 'n' ague round Ma.s.sachusetts, you've got an awful lot of things we hain't got here--a tarnashun sight wuss ones, too; sich as c.u.msempsun, brown-critters, mental spinageetis, lung-disease, and all sorts of brown-kill disorders. Besides, you have such awful cold winters that a farmer has to stay holed four months out of the year, while we folks in the south can work most of the time out of doors. I'll be dog-goned if I hadn't ruther live here in poverty than die up north a-rolling in riches. Now, stranger, as to what you said about sickness, why we aren't no circ.u.mstance to you fellows up north. Why, your hull country is chuck-full of pizenous remedies. When I was a-coasting along Yankeedom and went ash.o.r.e, I found all the rocks along the road were jist kivered with quack-medicine notices, and all the farmers hired out the outsides of their barns to advertise doctor's stuff on."

In no portion of America do the people seem to feel the burden of earning a livelihood more lightly. They get a great deal of social enjoyment out of life at very little cost, and place much less value on the "mighty dollar" than do their brother farmers of the northern section of the states. The interesting inquiry of "Who was his father?"

commences at Philadelphia, and its importance intensifies as you travel southward. Old family a.s.sociations have great weight among all cla.s.ses.

It was six miles from the mouth of Love Creek across the little sound to Burton's marshy island at the entrance of Indian River Sound. Indian River supplies its bay with much of its fresh water, and the small inlet in the beach of the same name with the salt water of the ocean. Large flocks of geese and ducks were seen upon the quiet waters of the sound.

Pursuing my southward course across Indian River Sound three miles, I entered a small creek with a wide mouth, which flows north from the cedar swamp, known as White's Creek, which I ascended until the stream became so narrow that it seemed almost lost in the wilderness, when suddenly an opening in the forest showed me a clearing with the little buildings of a farm scattered around. It was the home of a Methodist exhorter, Mr. Silas J. Betts. I told him how anxious I was to make a quick portage to the nearest southern water, Little a.s.sawaman Bay, not much more than three miles distant by road.

After calmly examining my boat, he said: "It is now half-past eleven o'clock. Wife has dinner about ready. I'll hurry her up a little, and while she is putting it on the table we will get the cart ready." The cart was soon loaded with pine needles as a bed for the canoe. We lashed her into a firm position with cords, and went in to dinner.

In a short time after, we were rattling over a level, wooded country diversified here and there by a little farm. The shallow bay, the east side of which was separated from the ocean by sandy hills, was bounded by marshes. We drove close to the water and put the Maria Theresa once more into her true element. A friendly shake of the hand as I paid the conscientious man his charge of one dollar for his services, with many thanks for his hospitality, for which he would accept nothing--and the canoe was off, threading the narrow and very shallow channel-way of this gra.s.sy-bottomed bay.

The tall tower of Fenwick's Island Light, located on the boundary line of Delaware and Maryland, was now my landmark. It rises out of the low land that forms a barrier against which the sea breaks. The people on the coast p.r.o.nounce Fenwick "Phoenix." Phoenix Island, they say, was once a part of the mainland, but a woman, wishing to keep her cattle from straying, gave a man a shirt for digging a narrow ditch between Little and Great a.s.sawaman bays. The tide ebbed and flowed so strongly through this new channel-way that it was worn to more than a hundred feet in width, and has at high tide a depth in places of from ten to fifteen feet of water. The opening of this new thoroughfare so diminished the flow of water through the Little a.s.sawaman Inlet to the sea, that it became closed. The water was almost fresh here, as the nearest inlet which admits salt water at high tide is at Chincoteague Island, some fifty miles distant.

Pa.s.sing to the west of the light-house through this pa.s.sage, I thought of what a woman could do, and almost expected to hear from the rippling waters the "Song of the Shirt," which would have been in this case a much more cheerful one than Hood's. I now entered Great a.s.sawaman Bay, the waters of which lay like a mirror before me; and nearly five miles away, to the southwestern end, the tall forests of the Isle of Wight loomed up against the setting sun. Ducks rose in flocks from the quiet waters as my canoe glided into their close vicinity. If I could have taken less cargo, I should have carried a light gun; but this being impossible, a pocket revolver was my only fire-arm: so the ducks and other wild-fowl along my route had reason to hold the paper canoe in grateful remembrance.

Upon reaching the sh.o.r.es of the Isle of Wight I entered the mouth of St.

Martin's River, which is, at its confluence with Isle of Wight Bay, more than two miles wide. I did not then possess the fine Coast Chart No. 28, or the General Chart of the Coast, No. 4, with the topography of the land clearly delineated, and showing every man's farm-buildings, fields, landings, &c., so plainly located as to make it easy for even a novice to navigate these bays. Now, being chartless so far as these waters were concerned, I peered about in the deepening twilight for my friend's plantation buildings, which I knew were not far off; but the gloomy forests of pine upon the upland opened not the desired vista I so longed to find.

Crossing the wide river, I came upon a long point of salt-marsh, which I hoped might be Keyser's Point, for I knew that to the west of this point I should find Turval's Creek. While rowing along the marsh I came upon two duck-shooters in their punt, but so enveloped were they in the mist that it was impossible to do more than define their forms. I, however, ventured a question as to my locality, when, to my utter astonishment, there came back to me in clear accents my own name. Never before had it sounded so sweet to my ears. It was the voice of my friend, who with a companion was occupied in removing from the water the flock of decoys which they had been guarding since sunrise. Joyful was the unexpected meeting.

We rowed around Keyser's Point, and up Turval's Creek, a couple of miles to the plantation landing. Here, upon the old estate in the little family burial-ground, slept, "each in his narrow cell," the children of four generations. Our conversation before the blazing wood-fire that night related to the ground travelled over during the day, a course of about thirty-five miles. Mr. Taylor's father mentioned that a friend, during one week in the previous September, had taken upon his hook, while fishing from the marshes of Rehoboth Bay, five hundred rock-fish, some of which weighed twenty pounds. The oysters in Rehoboth and Indian River bays had died out, probably from the decrease in the amount of salt water now entering them. A delightful week was spent with my friends at Winchester Plantation, when the falling of the mercury warned me to hurry southward.

On Wednesday, November 25, I descended the plantation creek and rowed out of St. Martin's River into the Bay. My course southward led me past "the Hommack," an Indian mound of oyster-sh.e.l.ls, which rises about seven feet above the marsh on the west side of the entrance to Sinepuxent bay, and where the mainland approaches to within eight hundred feet of the beach. This point, which divides the Isle of Wight Bay from Sinepuxent, is the terminus of the Wicomico and Pocomoke Railroad, which has been extended from Berlin eastwardly seven miles. A short ferry conveys the pa.s.sengers across the water to a narrow island beach, which is considered by Bayard Taylor, the author, the finest beach he has ever visited. This new watering-place is called Ocean City; and my friend, B. Jones Taylor, was treasurer of the company which was engaged in making the much-desired improvements. The shallow bays in the vicinity of Ocean City offer safe and pleasant sailing-grounds. The summer fishing consists chiefly of white perch, striped ba.s.s, sheep's-head, weak-fish, and drum. In the fall, blue-fish are caught. All of these, with oysters, soft crabs, and diamond-backed terrapin, offer tempting dishes to the epicure. This recently isolated sh.o.r.e is now within direct railroad communication with Philadelphia and New York, and can be reached in nine hours from the former, and in twelve hours from the latter city.

From the Hommack to South Point is included the length of Sinepuxent Bay, according to Coast Survey authority. From South Point to below the middle of Chincoteague Island the bay is put down as "a.s.sateague,"

though the oystermen do not call it by that name. The celebrated oyster-beds of the people of Chincoteague commence about twenty miles south of the Hommack. There are two kinds of oysters shipped from Chincoteague Inlet to New York and other markets. One is the long native plant; the other, that transplanted from Chesapeake Bay: this bivalve is rounded in form, and the most prized of the two. The average width of Sinepuxent was only a mile. When I turned westwardly around South Point, and entered a.s.sateague Bay, the watery expanse widened, between the marshes on the west and the sandy-beach island on the east, to over four miles.

The debouchure of Newport Creek is to the west of South Point. The marshes here are very wide. I ascended it in the afternoon to visit Dr. F. J. Purnell, whose attempts to introduce the pinnated grouse and California partridges on his plantation had attracted the attention of Mr. Charles Hallock, editor of "Forest and Stream"; and I had promised him, if possible, to investigate the matter.

This South Point of Sinepuxent Neck is a place of historical interest, it being now a.s.serted that it is the burial-place of Edward Whalley, the regicide.

Early in 1875, Mr. Robert P. Robins found in a bundle of old family doc.u.ments a paper containing interesting statements written by his great-great-grandfather, Thomas Robins, 3d, of South Point, Worcester County, Maryland, and dated July 8, 1769. We gather from this reliable source that Edward Whalley left Connecticut and arrived in Virginia in 16--, and was there met by a portion of his family. From Virginia he travelled to the "province of Maryland, and settled first at ye mouth of ye Pokemoke River; and finding yt too publick a place he came to Sinepuxent, a neck of land open to ye Atlantic Ocean, where Colonel Stephen was surveying and bought a tract of land from him and called it Genezar; it contained two thousand two hundred acres, south end of Sinepuxent; and made a settlement on ye southern extremity, and called it South Point; to ye which place he brought his family about 1687, in ye name of Edward Middleton. His own name he made not publick until after this date, after ye revolution in England, (in ye year of our Lord 1688,) when he let his name be seen in publick papers, and had ye lands patented in his own name."

The writer of the above quotation was the great-grandson of Edward Whalley (alias Edward Middleton), the celebrated regicide.

Four miles from South Point I struck the marshes which skirted Dr.

Purnell's large plantation, and pushing the canoe up a narrow branch of the creek, I waded through the partially submerged herbage to the firm ground, where the doctor was awaiting me. His house was close at hand, within the hospitable walls of which I pa.s.sed the night. Dr. Purnell has an estate of one thousand five hundred acres, lying along the banks of Newport Creek. Since the civil war it has been worked by tenants. Much of it is woodland and salt-marshes. Five years before my visit, a Philadelphian sent the doctor a few pairs of prairie-chickens, and a covey of both the valley and the mountain partridge. I am now using popular terms. The grouse were from a western state; the partridges had been obtained from California. The partridges were kept caged for several weeks and were then set at liberty. They soon disappeared in the woods, with the exception of a single pair, which returned daily to the kitchen-door of a farm tenant to obtain food. These two birds nested in the garden close to the house, and reared a fine brood of young; but the whole covey wandered away, and were afterwards heard from but once. They had crossed to the opposite side of Newport Creek, and were probably shot by gunners.

The prairie-chickens adapted themselves to their new home in a satisfactory manner, and became very tame. Their nests, well filled with eggs, were found along the rail-fences of the fields in the close vicinity of the marshes, for which level tracts they seemed to have strong attachment. They multiplied rapidly, and visited the cattle-pens and barn-yards of the plantation.

The Maryland legislature pa.s.sed a law to protect all grouse introduced into the state; but a new danger threatened these unfortunate birds. A crew of New Jersey terrapin-hunters entered Chincoteague Inlet, and searched the ditches and little creeks of the salt-marshes for the "diamond-backs." While thus engaged, the gentle grouse, feeding quietly in the vicinity, attracted their attention, and they at once bagged most of them. A tenant on the estate informed me that he had seen eighteen birds in a cornfield a few days before--the remnant of the stock.

The Ruffled Grouse (_Bonasa umbellus_), so abundant in New Jersey, is not a resident of the peninsula. Dr. Purnell's first experiment with the Pinnated Grouse (_Cupidonia cupido_) has encouraged others to bring the ruffled grouse to the eastern sh.o.r.e of Maryland. That unapproachable songster of the south, the American Mocking-bird (_Mimus polyglottus_), is becoming scarce in this region, from the inroads made by bird-catchers who ship the young to northern cities. This delightful chorister is only an accidental visitor in the New England states.

Indeed, as far south as Ocean County, New Jersey, I saw but one of these birds, in a residence of nine years on my cranberry plantations; though I have heard that their nests are occasionally found about Cape May, at the extreme southern end of New Jersey.

My time being limited, I could enjoy the doctor's hospitality for but one night. The next morning the whole family, with tenants both black and white, a.s.sisted me to embark. By dusk I had crossed the division line of two states, and had entered Virginia near the head of Chincoteague Island, a locality of peculiar interest to the student of American character. The ebb-tide had left but little water around the rough pier abreast of the town, and heaps of oyster-sh.e.l.ls rose from the mud flats and threatened the safety of my canoe. I looked up through the darkness to the light pier-head above me, and called for a.s.sistance. Two men leaned over to inquire, "What's the row now, stranger?" To which I replied, "I wish to land a light boat on your pier; and as it is made of paper, it should be carefully handled." For a moment the oystermen observed a silence, and then, without one word of explanation, disappeared. I heard their heavy boots tramping up the quay towards the tavern. Soon a low murmur arose on the night air, then hoa.r.s.e shouts, and there came thundering down the wharf an army of men and boys. "Pa.s.s her up, stranger!" they cried. "Here, give us your bow and starn painters, and jest step overboard yourself, and we'll hist her up." Some of the motley crew caught me by the shoulders, others "histed away," and the canoe and its captain were laid roughly upon the ground.

There was a rush to _feel_ of the paper sh.e.l.l. Many were convinced that there was no humbug about it; so, with a great shout, some of the men tossed it upon their shoulders, while the rest seized upon the miscellaneous cargo, and a rush was made for the hotel, leaving me to follow at discretion and alone. The procession burst open the doors of the tavern, and poured through the entrance to a court-yard, where they laid the boat upon a long table under a shed, and thought they had earned "drinks." This was the spontaneous way in which the Chincoteague people welcomed me. "If you don't drink, stranger, up your way, what on airth keeps your buddies and soulds together?"

queried a tall oysterman. A lady had kindly presented me with a peck of fine apples that very morning; so, in lieu of "drinks," I distributed the fruit among them. They joked and questioned me, and all were merry save one bilious-looking individual, not dressed, like the others, in an oysterman's garb, but wearing, to use a term of the place, "store clothes."

After the crowd had settled in the bar-room, at cards, &c., this doubting Thomas remained beside the boat, carefully examining her. Soon he was sc.r.a.ping her hull below the gunwale, where the muddy water of the bay had left a thin coat of sediment which was now dry. The man's countenance lighted up as he pulled the bartender aside and said, "Look ahere; didn't I tell you that boat looked as if she was made to carry on a deck of a vessel, and to be a-shoved off into the water at night jest abreast of a town to make fools of folks, and git them to believe that that fellow had a-rowed _all_ the way ahere? Now see, here is _dust, dry dust_, on her hull. She ahain't ben in the water mor'n ten minutes, I sware." It required but a moment's investigation of my Chincoteague audience to discover that the dust was mud from the tide, and the doubter brought down the ridicule of his more discriminating neighbors upon him, and slunk away amid their jeers.

Of all this community of watermen but one could be found that night who had threaded the interior watercourses as far as Cape Charles, and he was the youngest of the lot. Taking out my note-book, I jotted down his amusing directions. "Look out for Cat Creek below Four Mouths," he said; "you'll catch it round there." "Yes," broke in several voices, "Cat Creek's an awful place unless you run through on a full ebb-tide. Oyster boats always has a time a-shoving through Cat Creek," &c.

After the council with my Chincoteague friends had ended, the route to be travelled the next day was in my mental vision "as clear as mud." The inhabitants of this island are not all oystermen, for many find occupation and profit in raising ponies upon the beach of a.s.sateague, where the wild, coa.r.s.e gra.s.s furnishes them a livelihood. These hardy little animals are called "Marsh Tackies," and are found at intervals along the beaches down to the sea-islands of the Carolinas. They hold at Chincoteague an annual fair, to which all the "pony-penners," as they are called, bring their surplus animals to sell. The average price is about ninety dollars for a good beast, though some have sold for two hundred and fifty dollars. All these horses are sold in a semi-wild and unbroken state.

The following morning Mr. J. L. Caulk, ex-collector of the oyster port, and about fifty persons, escorted me to the landing, and sent me away with a hearty "Good luck to ye."

It was three miles and three quarters to the southern end of the island, which has an inlet from the ocean upon each side of that end--the northern one being a.s.sateague, the southern one Chincoteague Inlet.

Fortunately, I crossed the latter in smooth water to Ballast Narrows in the marshes, and soon reached Four Mouths, where I found _five_ mouths of thoroughfares, and became perplexed, for had not the pilots of Chincoteague called this interesting display of mouths "Four Mouths"? I clung to the authority of local knowledge, however, and was soon in a labyrinth of creeks which ended in the marshes near the beach.

Returning over the course, I once more faced the four, or _five_ mouths rather, and taking a new departure by entering the next mouth to the one I had so unsatisfactorily explored, soon entered Rogue's Bay, across which could be seen the entrance to Cat Creek, where I was to experience the difficulties predicted by my Chincoteague friends. Cat Creek furnished at half tide sufficient water for my canoe, and not the slightest difficulty was experienced in getting through it. The oystermen had in their minds their own sloop-rigged oyster-boats when they discoursed to me about the hard pa.s.sage of Cat Creek. They had not considered the fact that my craft drew only five inches of water.

Cat Creek took me quite down to the beach, where, through an inlet, the dark-blue ocean, sparkling in its white caps, came pleasantly into view.

Another inlet was to be crossed, and again I was favored with smooth water. This was a.s.sawaman Inlet, which divided the beach into two islands--Wallops on the north, and a.s.sawaman on the south.