The present story commences with Nov. 4, when the expedition had reached the great central lake of Florida, Okeechobee. The manuscript was discovered a mere mile from their endpoint amoung the ruins of a canoe.
The Gulf of Mexico never presented an angrier appearance, or waves rolling higher, than what we have experience and seen for the last three days upon the waters of Lake Okeechobee, an inland sea about fifty miles in length and breadth, with nothing to break the force of the wind or waves. We find ourselves sailing ALONG THE SOUTHERN SHORE, peering anxiously for a spot of dry land on which we can camp. After traveling about eight miles, we discern with our glasses a white sand beach backed by quite a forest of large trees, and immediately signal the other boats to follow. As soon as the hurry and hustle of going into camp subsides, we get our rifles, and for half an hour there is a perfect fusilade in camp, each man trying to see how many alligators he can kill. The whole surface of the water is DOTTED WITH THESE MONSTERS from three to ten feet and over. They come swimming from all directions, never stopping.
10th day of November. The river has now narrowed down to a stream not more than five or six feet, a few feet of water in depth, dark, sluggish, and with a slight perceptible current running north. The boughs of the trees lap over the water, the vines form a perfect network to bar our progress, and to all appearances when we approach these barriers it seems as if the end of our water course has been reached, but with a few strokes of the machetes, axes and hatchets our way is cleared, and our journey is resumed for a few yards, until the next obstruction is reached, sometimes a sunken log, the roots of trees extending across the whole channel, or the branches of trees which reach the surface of the water. We have gone but a couple of miles when we discover that the river no longer exists, but has lost itself in the dense swamp. Our compass is now our only guide.
The water mark upon the trees indicate that it has been five feet above its present level; how long ago we are unable to state. The mark certainly is not very old, and portions of grass, which have lodged between the branches of the trees, still remain there, indicating that not many years have elapsed since the mark was made. Perhaps it would be better to say months, instead of years. We examine THE DEPTH OF WATER in our front, and find we have about five inches of water and fifteen feet, more or less, of mud. In other words we might say, "no bottom," and above the water there is level marsh grass and scrub trees, through which nothing but muscle will propel the boats.
After a hard day's work we find we have traveled but only one-quarter of a mile from where we left the remains of the river and came into the swamp. Orders are given to camp. Supper is soon over, and the men are soon busy making down their beds for the purpose of getting under bars from THE MOSQUITOES, who, from the way they swarm around and attack us, could not have had a square meal for many a day. Even the bars are not a perfect protection, for our artist, Mr. Harlander, will certify under oath that at bed -time they began lighting on the top of his bar, and he quietly smiled to himself as he thought of his impregnable position. He thought nothing more of it until the top of his bar caved in, and to his horror he found that it had been caused by the weight of the mosquitoes on top, all of them having combined to attack him in that peculiar and original manner.
Nov 20. The situation of the men grows worse day by day. They toil onward, waist deep, in the mud and water; leeches clinging to their legs until the water around them was dyed a deep red; thousands of bugs pestering and bothering them; prickly plants bruising and poisoning them. The water alive with moccasins. Rest at night, cuddled up in the canoes, is scarcely pleasant, for the moccasins have a way of crawling into the boats to get warm and comfortable.
Nov. 22. The provision batteau, Queen Anne, we must abandon in the swamp, as her bottom is completely worn out and she leaks badly. Rocks begin to crop out above the surface of the water, and we have to get out of the boats and lift them carefully a few feet at a time. Our canoes are thin, the rocks sharp and pointed, and the least carelessness on our part will put a hole their bottom, without any means at our command of repairing damage. All our strength is called for every ten or fifteen yards to lift the boats over the ledges of rock. We are all worn out as the sun begins to go down. We find a slight rock upon which to camp. We have killed all the snakes in sight. There is a frightful moaning in the trees, and the men are nervous."
Excerpted from Through the Everglades in 1883, from the Historical Museum of Southern Florida. (plus some tweaking of course).