The Dismal Swamp and Lake Drummond, Early recollections | Page 4

visitors have visited it, all of whom were struck with astonishment at the sight. It is ten miles southeast of Suffolk. I will now relate some of the adventures of my first trip. It was on a bright morning, early in the month of May, 1832, that my father and I started for "Lake Drummond," or the Lake of the "Dismal Swamp," as some call it; and as all preparations had been made the night before, there was nothing to prevent us from making an early start. The idea of my going to the Lake had driven sleep from my eyes, and I was ready to start at any time; but it was not until the grey dawn of day that my father began to stir. He was soon ready, and providing himself with fishing poles, bait, lunch, and such other articles as were necessary for a two or three days' fishing excursion, then taking our leave of my mother and the other members of the family, we were off. The Portsmouth and Roanoke railroad (now the Seaboard and Roanoke railroad) was at that time graded as far as Suffolk. We followed the line of it as far as a place known as Peter Jones, where we left it and passed through "Bull Field," to the company's mill, which is but a short distance from the basin of the Canal, at which place we were to take a skiff for the Lake. On arriving at the basin we found Mr. James Woodward, grandfather of Hersey Woodward, Esq., of Suffolk, Va. He was inspector of lumber for the "Dismal Swamp Land Company," and was on his way to the Lake. The drivers of the skiff, Tony Nelson and Jim Brown, were ready, and it being now about sunrise, Mr. Woodward and my father soon got their traps aboard, then lifting me in, all was ready. The drivers adjusted their poles and away we went, all being a novelty to me, who had never before been in a boat on water. Everything appeared very strange, being but a very small boy as I was. Nothing happened to impede our progress, and in about five hours from the time of starting we arrived at the Lake. Then it was that our young soul began to thrill with joy, for we were at the Lake and would soon launch on its broad bosom. The gates of the Lock were opened and the skiff shoved in, then the first gate being closed behind us another gate opened. The water rushed in and soon our boat was on a level with the Lake. The drivers then took up the oars and were ready to cross to Jack's Landing, which was on the opposite side of the Lake. It being very rough at the time, some fears were expressed, but Mr. Woodward, who was well acquainted with the situation, said that he did not apprehend any danger, and the skiff was put in motion. As I said before, it was very rough, and when we had gotten about half-way across, it became more so: the waves began to break over the skiff and all thought that it would fill. Fortunately, two large wooden shovels or scoops were found in the skiff, and with them Mr. Woodward and my father kept her free, "Tony" and "Jim," in the meantime, plying their oars manfully. We soon arrived at "Jack's Landing," and disembarking proceeded to Jack's camp, which was but a short distance away, and known to every person who had ever visited the Lake. On our arrival the pious Mr. Woodward offered up to the Great Ruler of wind and water a prayer for our safe deliverance from a watery grave. As we had not partaken of any nourishment since early morning, it was proposed that we should eat something, which was readily agreed to, and in a short time we had gotten through that part of our work, whereupon my father said he would try his luck fishing. So taking a small boat, which he found at "Jack's Landing," placing me in it and then getting in himself, he started for some good place to commence. He fished awhile at the "Forked Gum" without any success; moved to the "Stooping Pine" with a like result. He began to think that it was the wrong moon, and leaving that place he paddled for the "Three Cypresses," where he caught some very fine fish. It was now getting late in the afternoon, and as he expected to make an early start the next morning, he thought it best to return to the camp, heading his boat in that direction he soon reached the landing: having but a short distance to walk, we were not long in reaching it. Mr. Woodward