made a lee
under Cape Canaveral, was half way to Key West. It was useless to think
of overtaking her on the passage, unless she had spent a day in
Mosquito Inlet.

Colonel Shepard's letter was addressed to Captain Blastblow, though it
was an open one, directing him to await the arrival of the Sylvania at
Key West. I had no faith in Cornwood; but I was willing to believe he
thought he could intercept the Islander at Key West, or he would not
have gone on a "wild-goose chase" at his own expense. If he recovered
the steam-yacht he would get two hundred dollars for his services; if
he failed, he would get nothing. So far as I could see, no risk was
incurred by the colonel in allowing the Floridian to go on this
mission.

The weather was delightful after we got outside of the harbor of St.
Augustine. The wind was west, and the air was as balmy as summer. We
placed easy-chairs on the quarter-deck for the ladies. The long swells
of the ocean gave a steady and regular roll to the vessel. The party
declared that the sail was "perfectly delightful," and they did not see
how the sea could be so angry and savage as it had been the day before.

The mate noted the departure from St. Augustine light at half-past
twelve. I had a chart laid out on my table in the stateroom, on which I
had marked the route of the vessel to Key West, with the courses and
distances, in red ink. It was our rule to heave the lead every hour,
though the Sylvania made a regular average of ten knots an hour when
she was not hurried. When we came to a point of land, or any opening in
the coast, we could tell what it was.

According to the Coast Pilot, which was always kept on the shelf, by
the side of the binnacle, it was eighty-five miles to Cape Canaveral.
In just eight hours and a half, if we made our ordinary speed, we
should be abreast of this cape. We kept as close to the coast as the
depth of water would permit, for there were no shoals or other dangers
to fear. If we went out far enough, we should have the current of the
Gulf Stream against us.

As soon as we were fairly on our course I began to think over the
mission of Cornwood. I had no doubt that he was a rascal. I considered
whether or not it would be possible for him to do me or Colonel Shepard
any harm, on the one hand, or any good on the other. He had received no
money, and was to receive none until he earned it.

He was to arrive at Key West on Sunday morning. The Sylvania would not
be