mily, and asked him to buy the tickets back
to Virginia. He advised against it; said that the old home would not be
there to comfort them. Houses had been burned, trees cut down and old
landmarks destroyed. He suggested that they take the hundred dollars in
gold and buy a little home in Key West, which they did.

Reconstruction days were as trying to Key Westers as to others all over
the devastated land of Dixie. Slave owners, stripped of their
possessions, taxed with an immense war debt and with no money or
equipment to begin the slow climb back to normalcy were pathetic figures
as they blistered their hands at toil that they had never known before.
Many of the slaves were more than willing to stay with their former
masters, but with no income, the problem of feeding themselves was the
main issue with the whites, so it was out of the question to try to fill
other mouths, and ex-slaves often had to shift for themselves, a
hopeless task for a race that had never been called upon to exert
initiative.

Hannah Taylor and her numerous offspring were a fair example of these
irresponsible people. Like a ship adrift without skipper or rudder, they
were at the mercy of every adverse wind of misfortune. Each morning they
went out with frantic energy to earn or in some way procure sustenance
for one more day. Young Dave hounded the sponge fishermen until they
gave him an extra job. He made the rounds of the fishing docks,
continually on the lookout to be of help, anxious to do anything at any
time in exchange for a few articles of food that he could carry proudly
home to his mother.

"Dem was mighty tryin' times," mused the old man, "an' I don't blame my
mammy fer warmin' my pants when she had so much to worry 'bout. She had
a way o' grabbin' me by de years an' shovin' my haid twixt her knees
whilst she wuk on me sumpin' awful. No wonder I was scairt o' dese
frammin's. I reckon dat was de cause o' me goin' t' sea. Ah mas' tell
you 'bout dat.

"One day my mammy gimme fifteen cents an' say 'Go down to de market and
fetch me some fish. Ah' lissen--don't you let no grass grew unda yo'
feet. Go on de run an' come back on de jump. Does you fall down, jes'
keep on a-goin' some-how.'

"Wid dat she turn an' spit on de step. 'You see dat spit,' she say. 'Ef
hit be dry w'en you git back, I gonna beat de meat offen yo' bones. Git
goin', now.'

"Well, I stahted, an I she' wasn't losin' no time. 'Bout hahf way to de
mahket, I meets a co