“Oh goody, goody, goody.”

Julia and Beth took possession of the boat from the first moment.  They inspected it from one end to the other.  They made friends with the captain and those under him.  They went up even to the pilot house and helped run the boat, or, at least, they thought they were helping.  The morning proved a very happy one for them.

The trip delighted their parents also.  They were content to sit still and watch the St. Johns as it curved and widened on its course to the ocean.  There is hardly a more picturesque river in America.

As they neared the sea, its briny odor was wafted to them by the breeze.  Great sand dunes rose on both sides of the river.

Upon reaching Fort George, the Davenport party drove in the ’bus to the hotel, over the hardest of shell roads.  Magnificent palms lined the way on both sides.  All the foliage, in fact, was extremely luxuriant.  The island was more tropical than anything that the Davenports had seen, so far, in Florida.

A gentleman in the ’bus proffered the information to Mr. Davenport that the island had once been visited by Talleyrand.  He said it had been owned by French grandees who carried on an extensive slave trade from the island.

When questioned about the mounds of shells that are so numerous at Fort George, the gentleman explained that for many centuries the Indians had congregated on the island in oyster season, and held high festivals.  They probably feasted on oysters and corn, and these mounds were the result.

The week that followed was one of almost unalloyed bliss to Julia and Beth.  They got into very little mischief, although they simply lived out of doors, and up in the trees.

Each morning, a number of the people from the hotel went in surf bathing.  Beth was always one of the party.  Mrs. Davenport did not care to go in, but she generally sat on the beach and watched the bathers.

Since Beth had learned how to swim, she caused her mother much anxiety.  She was very venturesome, and would often swim far out beyond her depth.

Don did not enjoy salt water as much as he did fresh, and therefore he often rested beside Mrs. Davenport.

One morning only children went in bathing.  All the men were away fishing, and the women did not care for the sport.  Mrs. Davenport was unusually anxious, and she warned Beth to stay near shore with the other children.  Beth obeyed pretty well at first, but before she knew it she was out where the water was over her head.

“Beth, it’s time to come in,” called her mother.

Beth raised her head and spurted out some water.

“Why, mamma, I’m coming.”

“No, you’re not.  You’re going out,” and Mrs. Davenport sprang to her feet in sudden terror.

“Why, mamma, I’m swimming as hard as ever I can.”

In fact, Beth was trying her very best to reach shore, but notwithstanding her desperate efforts, she was slowly but surely drifting out to sea.  One of those treacherous undertows that abound on the Florida coast had her in its deadly power.