The Bucket Flower. Donald R. Wilson
“They are a caution, as smooth as glass, and their motives are just as transparent.” But most gentlemen at the hotel showed more refinement than some students from Harvard she had encountered. She had waltzed in the casino ballroom for the fourth night in a row and even danced the daring two-step. Because there were more gentlemen than ladies, she had been asked to dance almost every dance by a variety of gentlemen, most of whom had gray hair. To her dismay, Aunt Sarah was present every minute at first, but managed to remain in the background. As time went on and she was always in mixed company, her aunt mingled more with the mothers of the other young ladies.
The hotel’s activities were entertaining but pointless, and the desire to start her botanical exploration made her restless until she met Mr. Davis. One evening she decided to wear a whale-boned light-blue brocade with raised silver designs, and matching gloves and dancing slippers. The second gentlemen who asked her to dance, a Mr. Davis from Philadelphia, introduced her to his group of friends about her age. Before the evening was over, she was invited to join them at the indoor swimming pool the next morning.
She soon discovered that the other two ladies and three gentlemen had become acquainted within the last few days. Millie Dalton was in St. Augustine with her mother from Pittsburgh, and Henrietta Thompson and her parents were from New York. Henrietta, she soon discovered, was a complainer, but otherwise pleasant enough. Mr. Davis was the most gentlemanly, and also charming and funny. Mr. Everett was also from Boston and the person with whom she had the most in common. Mr. Bolton, from Baltimore, was the most reserved. Now there were six in their early twenties who enjoyed each other’s company and began to attend social activities together day after day. Before long she was addressing the other ladies by their Christian names, but used surnames when addressing the gentlemen.
On that first morning together, the six new friends had bathed in the indoor pool, but every day thereafter they agreed they preferred the ocean. She was self-conscious in her bathing attire at first, but Millie and Henrietta had similar black bathing wear that extended from their necks to their ankles and included a cap and bathing slippers. The gentlemen were appropriately covered as well, but looked foolish in their close-fitting bathing suits that made them all limbs in a spidery sort of way. The ladies’ clothing prevented all movement in the water except for walking slowly. Nevertheless, they managed to play keep away and dodgeball, games which often degenerated into happy splashing battles.
Along with the others she fell into a routine of tennis and bathing most mornings and a different activity every afternoon. At first the tennis was played by the gentlemen while the ladies cheered them on. But as each morning wore on, the ladies were encouraged to take part. Never having played the game before, she felt awkward and foolish at first. Then she discovered she was no more inept at returning the ball than the other ladies; they all had the disadvantage of playing in their long dresses. Beth lost track of time. One week blended into the next, and she found herself regretting that the season was coming to a close.
April’s clear days were like Massachusetts in September. She was delighted on one such day when Mr. Everett, the most aggressive of the “St. Augustine Six,” as they called themselves, chartered a schooner complete with food, drink, and a crew. They sailed down the coast into a stiff breeze that made it difficult for the ladies to keep on their broad-brimmed hats. Millie Dalton became queasy as soon as they hit open water, and Henrietta Thompson shrieked every time the schooner heeled.
The schooner was tame after the small sloops she had sailed in from the time she was a little girl. Beyond his business, Papa’s only known interests were the Tavern Club and his sloop. Her earliest memory of sailing was with Mama and Papa on Narragansett Bay. Then after moving from Providence, there were many Sunday afternoons on Boston Harbor. Most of these experiences were both exhilarating and demeaning. Papa at the tiller was a daring sailor, and he ordered Mama about as if she were a galley slave. But today’s sail was exhausting from the salt spray, the wind, and the sun, and by late afternoon she was happy to return to the hotel in time for dinner with Aunt Sarah.
The next afternoon she cheered on the quiet Mr. Bolton as he rode in a horsemanship competition, a weekly event at the hotel. “Oh, there’s Mr. Flagler,” she said to the others. “That lovely lady with him must be his daughter.”
“That’s Mary Lily Keenan,” said Millie Dalton in an awed voice. “Mother said that she’s Mr. Flagler’s mistress.” She looked at the young woman on Flagler’s arm with greater interest and noticed that the others were staring, too.
On another afternoon they watched the hotel staff play baseball. Friday evenings they attended the amusing cake walk. The Negro bellhops and waiters strutted down an aisle formed by the other dancers, bowing and bending in mock imitation of the white Southern aristocracy of the past. Mr. Everett was selected among other distinguished hotel patrons to judge the dancers and award prizes. Later Mr. Davis, trying to imitate the buck dance with his head back, briskly strutting, made the others laugh. But they laughed even harder when he failed miserably at the double shuffle.
The young gentlemen smoked cigarettes during the day, reserving cigars for after dinner. Mr. Bolton, she noted, often borrowed Turkish Orientals from Mr. Davis, or Three Kings from Mr. Everett, claiming to be “just out” of his domestic brand of Cameos.
She thought less often of the rift with her parents and Mr. Cushing’s engagement offer. Aunt Sarah asked if she had responded to Mr. Cushing, reminding her that the letter required an answer. If his letter deserved a response, there was no rush. A well-thought-out reply, even though negative, might be considered more final than offhanded remarks. But she admitted to herself that she was merely putting off an unpleasant task.
In spare moments she had made notes and sketched the unusual palms, flowers, and beautiful shrubbery around the hotel, aware that these plants were already well known. What was needed was a trip to the hinterlands as Mr. Flagler had suggested.
After making inquiries, a hotel clerk told her of a friend who had fished on the Oklawaha River and gave her directions. She had been awaiting the proper moment to mention the jaunt to her friends. Now she suggested a train ride to Palatka where they could charter a boat and explore the river. She related how Mr. Flagler had suggested the excursion and mentioned the wildlife, strange flowers, and trees they would see. Explaining that the trip might take at least two days with an overnight at a hotel along the river added to their enthusiasm. Everyone was excited by her idea except for Mr. Bolton. He agreed to participate, but seemed to be only marginally interested.
When she revealed their plans to Aunt Sarah at dinner, her aunt insisted on going along, and no amount of cajoling, explaining, or pleading changed her mind. “You’re looking for trouble,” responded her aunt. After dressing in a sweeping pale green satin-striped gown and matching ensemble, she joined her group in the ballroom and explained her dilemma with embarrassment.
The exuberant Mr. Everett said, “That’s an excellent idea. Perhaps other family members might like to go on the outing.” The others had little concern, and in the end Millie Dalton’s mother agreed to accompany Aunt Sarah, and her predicament was settled.
“I think it should be a camping trip,” she told her aunt at bedtime. “That’s a better way to get a look at the plant life.”
“Land sakes! I’m not looking forward to this excursion. I dislike alligators, I have little interest in the greenery, and I abhor mosquitoes. We will stay in a hotel or not go at all.” The statement was the strongest she had ever heard Aunt Sarah make. She knew that the success of their excursion depended upon her giving in to her aunt on this matter.
On the morning of their trip the “St. Augustine Six,” accompanied by Aunt Sarah and Mrs. Dalton, boarded an open-ended wooden railway car. She was embarrassed by the rustic train which was plain and uncomfortable compared with the plush hotel car she had taken from Jersey City with Aunt Sarah. The four-wheel car had slat seats with cast iron arms. There was no separate smoking car, and spittoons were everywhere. The others didn’t seem to mind until black smoke from the locomotive blew through the open windows. This distressed the ladies because of their elaborate hats and dresses.
By ten o’clock they were in Palatka. The men negotiated the rental of a small steam-driven riverboat, which Mr.