His language is a queer mixture of geechy, sea terms and broad “a’s” acquired by long association with Nassau “conchs.”  Married to one of these ample-waisted Bahama women, the erst-while rambler and adventurer proved that rolling stones sometimes become suitable foundations for homes—­he lived faithfully with the same wife for fifty-one years.

“Shippin’ ’fore de mahst ain’t no job to make a preacher f’m a youngster; hit’s plenty tough; but I ain’t nevah been sorry I went to sea; effen a boy gwine take to likker an’ wimmen, he kin git plenty o’both at home, same as in for’n ports.”

The old man bit off a conservative chew from his small plug, carefully wrapped the remainder in his handkerchief and chewed thoughtfully for some time before he continued.

“I wasn’t bawn in Florida, but I be’n here so long I reckon hit ’bout de same thing.  I kin jes remember leavin’ Norfolk.  My daddy an’ mammy an’ de odder chillun b’long to a Frenchman named Pinckney.  Musta be’n ’bout 1860 or 1861, w’en Mahstah ’gins to worry ’bout what gwine happen effen war come an’ de Vahginny slave-owners git beat.”

He proceeded slowly, and in language almost unintelligible at times, as he talked, smoked and chewed, all at the same time; but here, the reporter realized, were all the elements of a true story that needed only notebook and typewriter to transform it into readable form.

Antagonism aroused by the Dred Scott decision, and the further irritation caused by the Fugitive Slave law were kicking up plenty of trouble during Buchanan’s administration.  South Carolina had already seceded.  Major Anderson was keeping the Union flag flying at Fort Sumter, but latest reports said that there was no immediate danger of hostilities when Pierre Pinckney, thrifty Virginia planter of French extraction, went into conference with his neighbors and decided to move while the getting-out was still good.

With as little publicity as possible, they arranged the disposal of their real estate.  No need to sell their slaves and livestock; they would need both in the new location.  If they could manage to get to Charleston, they reasoned, surely they could arrange for a boat to St. Augustine.  The Indians might be troublesome there, but by settling near the fort they should be reasonably safe.

Before the caravan of oxcarts and heavy wagons came within sight of the old seaport town, it became evident that they had better keep to the woods.  Union soldiers, although still inactive, might at any time decide to confiscate their belongings, so they pushed on to the southward.

Long weeks dragged by before they finally reached St. Augustine.  War talk, and the possibility of attack by sea again caused them to change their plans.  Pooling their money, they chartered a boat and embarked for Key West.  Surely they would be safe that far south.  One of their Virginia neighbors, Fielding A. Browne, had settled there thirty years before.  Taking advantage of the periodic sales of salvaged goods from wrecks on the treacherous keys, he had become wealthy and was said to hold a responsible position with the city.