I realized my position. Knowing that the odds were against me, I held my temper to the very last moment. I told him to mind his own business or else there would be trouble. At this remark, he slapped me in the face and said, "Don't talk to me, you poor white trash." I did not attempt revenge at that moment, although the blood in my veins was running hot with anger, but waited for a suitable opportunity, and it was not long in coming. A few moments later, as he was walking through a curtained door, carrying a tray heavily laden with dishes, I turned and caught him squarely on the cheek with a big coffee cup, which caused him to drop dishes and all as he fell to the floor bleeding. This blow rendered him unconscious, and that part of the ship was put in disorder. I thought the other negroes would mob me before I could make my escape, but, jumping through an open window, I gained the deck and ascended to the officers' quarters, where I presented myself to the captain, asking for protection and telling him what had occurred. He listened kindly, and taking pity on me, a boy of fourteen, he promised me protection until we arrived in Jacksonville. This affair was the talk of the ship until we arrived in port, and just as we were anchoring I was told by the second officer that the negro intended having me arrested by the city officials. Becoming aware of this, I informed Captain Hastings, and he volunteered to see me safely ashore, and also to place me on board the "City of Jacksonville," a small steamer which was to carry us to Crescent City, a distance of one hundred and twenty-five miles from Jacksonville, and fifteen miles from his home. We left Jacksonville in the morning and arrived at Crescent City about six o'clock the same evening, where we spent the night. That day, as we were steaming up the St. John's River, I became hungry between meals, as boys generally do, so I went to the chef and traded a little imitation diamond ring for a couple of ham sandwiches. I had not written home since my departure, consequently, that night at Crescent City I indulged in a second commercial adventure. I traded a gold watch chain for a two cent stamp, paper, and envelope and informed my people of my whereabouts and of my future intentions. We put up, so to speak, at one of the small hotels of the town, for the night, and I bunked in a room with two men who were accompanying Captain Hastings to his turpentine farm, where they were going to serve as overseers. This was their second winter on his farm, and before going to sleep that night they told me many stories of the big plantation, its hundreds of negroes, horses, cattle, turpentine stills, and alligators. They took special delight in reciting the brutal murders committed by the outlaws, who at that time were roaming throughout the section. All of this did not frighten me, however, nerved as I was by home-sickness, and the fear of finding myself unromantically lodged in jail.