On Useppa

"Then he was sorry for the great fish that had nothing to eat and his determination to kill him never relaxed in his sorrow for him. How many people will he feed, he thought. But are they worthy to eat him? No, of course not. There is no one worthy of eating him from the manner of his behavior and his great dignity." Old Man and the Sea






There was a narrow but relatively deep strait between what would eventually come to be known as Boca Grande Island and Pine Island, both just north of Captiva Island. For the Spanish Rowboat,

carrying Captain De Madrone of the El Capitan, along with a handful of his officers and mates, it would serve as a perfect entry point into the islands, finally protected from the back breaking chop of the waves which had by now calmed and served them gently past the two small emerald islands.  They could be only several hours lagging behind course of the Trueheart, the very cause of this particularly risky game that De Madrone was playing, the fate not only of his own life, but his crew, his ship, perhaps even the Spanish Crown itself if it came to be understood that one of its very own captains of the Treasure Fleet had turned pirate.  Waters here at the inner passage of the virtual archipelago were shallow; the Trueheart could not have made it much past the initial facade of sea-facing beaches.  "On, dead ahead, two o'clock mates," yelled Savoy, a burly man with robust voice and well swiped mustache but no beard.  "Look on, large timbers fallen at the head of coming bay."

The scene they approached was more than an unusual one – to careen a ship in such quick time meant that the Trueheart had figured out the object of this game. They had been sent out on lead on purpose  skipping around the shoals that surrounded these islands.  And for this, there could only be

one reason: the silver stocks they carried.  De Madrone ordered to approach the ship directly.  He would arouse no suspicion by simply telling the Lord's truth – they had been attacked by the pirate ship and escaped nary by a breath of life.  Not a person sitting that moment on the rowboat, however, could have envisioned the further scene as they moved closer to the teetering ship lit by the haze of the sunken sun and rising moon.  The hull indeed had been damaged by a shoal, revealing a gash the size of a man, yet on the beach, sprawled out over a good fifty feet in length, thin waves lapping upwards towards them, were a small crew of men stuck by arrows and above them on higher ground barrels and chests of what

most certainly must have been the silver load.  They landed the row and began to inspect the grounds.  The marks of many bare feet tangled in the sand and lead up into the dark entries of the forest above.  "Build a fire, take all the arms you can find." The Captain found himself in the unlikely possession of the treasure but not a ship worthy of its transport.  "Two hours we have before Her Bounty has come to see our trick and will be wading through the straits readying to strike."  Just then a single cry sang out from the Trueheart like a muffled birdsong.

On Useppa

"'The fish is my friend too,' he said aloud. 'I have never seen or heard of such a fish. But I must kill him. I am glad we do not have to try to kill the stars.' Imagine if each day a man must try to kill the moon, he thought. The moon runs away. But imagine if a man each day should have to try to kill the sun? We were born lucky, he thought." Old Man and the Sea



De Madrone could see that Her Bounty, the infamous black flag of Hap Rayne, was gaining but in these rough seas looks could be deceiving so he clamored out the order to vice admiral Savoy to send

out the log line in order to test the true speed in knots.  Speed ultimately would not be the deciding factor, he thought, for the war ship in pursuit was not built to carry cargo but to chase and evade. No, the best chance in this particular case would be to sacrifice his post and this ship for dear hope of using her as a decoy and finding for himself Trueheart somewhere inside the tangle of the Ten Thousand islands emerging

very quickly on the horizon.  "Twelve knots," Savoy, vice admiral, shouted to the palm of his raised hand as he stood at the deck reading by hourglass the knotted rope.  To open the sails any further to the gusting, looping wind would most certainly begin to disturb the masts.  He must call out order quickly. The crew stayed busy at the riggings, but all knew secretly the situation without a single word: they had no cargo to pillage, they would be subdued within only a short while, all they had was a potential fight that would most certainly leave the ship either devastated by a dominant gunnery or would leave their small crew dead or captive.  "Lower sails. Ease the knots.  Hang the white!" De Madrone shouted and telescoped the bobbing forecastle of Her Bounty.  He caught the image of Hap Raynes, himself telescoping El Capitan.  He

was a fit man of the Old English Navy, turned pirate.  These men, he knew from experience, were often the worst and most ruthless of the pirates – men who had been turned away from the career of the British Admiralty and who found a taste of pure independence out here on the lawless seas.  De Madrone signaled to his quartermaster to stock a row boat with drinking water and guns.  He barked to the vice admiral to take the helm and prepare for surrender.  In virtually any other circumstance this would be a brazen maneuver of cowardice, yet if the implicit goal was to protect the Trueheart by serving decoy, it could be understood and accepted by the crew without mutiny and rage.  West, as he reversed his telescope toward La Florida, he could no longer see the sister ship, but he knew, with virtually no doubt, that it would be hung soon on a shoal in shallow waters.  He climbed into the row with six others and as the

small craft hit the bubbling ocean it tipped and nearly folded forward onto a roil of scattering waves.  As they rowed long sticks, El Capitan began to look like a dark house full of little else besides ghosts.

On Useppa

"It was dark now as it becomes dark quickly after the sun sets in September.  He lay against the worn wood of the bow and rested all that he could. The first stars were out. He did not know the name of Rigel but he saw it and knew soon they would all be out and he would have all his distant friends." Old Man and the Sea

Captain De Madrone of the Spanish treasure fleet ship El Capitan, on its voyage back from the Americas at Cartegena, stood out on aft deck just to windward side, looked up at the foremast and

could see that the wind of the Gulf storm was letting up now.  He looked up and could see the Rigel star, an old friend, he presumed anyway – since he had been on the fleet, his friends were no longer of the human kind, but he could always count on a star never to mutiny – and thought how easily it would be for the Trueheart to lose its course now and ram against the shoals of the islands of La Florida.  For any sailor new to the sea, this would make for a very unlikely moment to gloat upon the prospect of such a dastardly plan; they were off course, they were bound now for the thousand islands off of the coast, each of which were uncharted and potentially dangerous, and he had been outdone by the Trueheart by its southern conquest of much booty.  Yet for the seasoned captain all of this would weather itself and he could picture the very scene of devastation of Trueheart and its crew, his own heroic rescue of the silver load.  Monuments and court positions were delivered for such things.  What De Madrone had failed to observe was that as the weather had cleared so did their position out at sea – a British pirate warship had sidled up to the El Capitan as if a ghost in the night and had

outflanked the galleon in one bold and violent maneuver.  Her Bounty, now positioned at broadside, held at least sixty canons, the lids to which were flipped, and as the first canonball was masterfully placed just below decks against full-sided timber, De Madrone's dream turned to withering smoke.  Captain Hap Rayne, all knew, ruled these waters from the Bahamas upward into the shelter of the Gulf.  The Spanish fleet paid little concern for such singular piracy because it sailed in teams, yet all knew that such circumstances as these could result in the scene befallen here at this very moment.  Out ahead De Madrone

could see the faint brown speck of the Trueheart vanish in the wavy horizon.  "Ready the guns," De Madrone clamored to a surprised quartermaster and first mate.  They could see in a brief glimpse that their own twenty guns would be no match against such an aggressive approach.  "It is Hap Rayne of Her Bounty, all hands on deck." Her Bounty had strung the black flag by now high up on mast and men three feet deep leaned over the edge roaring to the stab of swords in the sky.  They would find nothing here, De Madrone thought, but if they were alerted to the ship ahead carrying silver....

On Useppa

"I'm learning how to do it, he thought.  This part of it anyway.  Then too, remember he hasn't eaten since he took the bait and he is huge and needs much food.  I have eaten the whole bonito.  Tomorrow I will eat the dolphin.  He called it dorado." Old Man and the Sea





The El Dorado of South America had not quite revealed itself over the many years now of the mission of the expeditionary Spanish treasure fleet.  Nor had the captain of the El Capitan come to his position through the usual channels of the Spanish navy.

He had been nothing more than a low rank midshipman for the Spanish Armada, but he was well known at court, and had an obstinate quality about him that left the perception that he was both an up and comer and one who would prioritize results of these 'Americas' expeditions above all else.  The competition among European powers was so exhaustive at this point in the 16th century and sea trade such an overwhelming investment for businessmen that there were no accolades for mere survival of a returning crew.  Captain de Madrone was wrestling with this very subject on his mind as he watched his sister ship Trueheart sail off from the shores of Cartagena with its supply chambers brimmed full of silver coinage. It was an outrage that the Trueheart, upon its very first sailing, would land the

treasure chests that would most likely propel its crew to fame and further fortune under the greedy influence of the Spanish court. The fleet had now set sail no longer than three days from Cartagena when a stiff Gulf wind had shoved the ships on a more northerly course than anticipated.  De Madrone had given what would eventually become the dastardly signal to the Trueheart that the two ships should now exchange their order in the line.  Trueheart was heavier and sturdier on its center, burdened as it was by the silver tonnage it carried, and would supposedly have better sight lines as it blew upwards along the Gulfo de Mexico off the continent of La Florida.

Although certainly off course, De Madrone had made the risky calculation that he had in fact passed these very waters before, albeit in far better conditions.  As he guessed, there was a hidden reef line that secured the myriad chain of islands off the coast of La Florida.  If a certain galleon ship were to ram directly into such a reef at such and such a rate of speed, there would most certainly be damage done to the hull. This ship would not, of course, sink on the spot, but would have to seek refuge in among the intricate network of the island shores.

On Useppa

"The old man unhooked the fish, re-baited the line with another sardine and tossed it over.  Then he worked his way slowly back to the bow.  He washed his left hand wiped it on his trousers.  Then he shifted the heavy line from his right hand to his left and washed his right hand in the sea while he watched the sun go into the ocean and the slant of the big cord." Old Man and the Sea




The great sun god was falling onto the flat blue line in the horizon which left the careened ship El Capitan inside a bristle of dying light, a great long shadow of the fallen mast a sliver across the beach pointing toward the Calusa, as they peered up over the forty foot ridge which lined Useppa Island.

There were not many men on the beach at this point.  They could not have known this themselves, but there was only a skeleton crew left of the Spanish treasure ship, the rest having been sent off with the accompanying galleon on its way back home to the Iberian peninsula for more sturdy supplies and yet another ship for transport, for the El Capitan had been badly damaged on the shoals of the western Florida coast.  The young Calusa warrior pointed out that now that they were closer they could see an enormous hole that had formed on the direct bottom of hull of the great wooden house on water.  All seafaring peoples – and the Calusa, being born onto the sea from an ancient age, were a pure seafaring people – understood immediately the real crisis of a broken boat.  The thirty-five warriors all noticed one other thing that left them with their eyes widened: piled along the upper shoreline in barrel after barrel were the silver trinkets that they had come to recognize from previous accidents of the

foreigners.  The initial thoughts of the men, because this particular tribe had not come in personal contact with the foreigners in strange hats themselves, was to barter shells for the silver trinkets.  Yet something else had come over them from their perch there in the dying sun – they must approach with caution and with only a partial showing of their numbers in case these men were desperate or if they carried with them some ill-will, as had been heard in distant stories of contact from the past.  The

young Calusa, now feeling himself back in charge, and more willing to convey patience if that was what was being asked, gestured to the eight fiercest of the indian warriors and ducked and weaved inside the shadows now formed by the Cabbage Palm and Saw Palmetto, until, in only a few short moments, they moved in upon the foreign men working diligently at a night fire and stirring what looked like paltry sustenance in a pot.  The first man to see the Calusa reached quickly for sword, but another, his first mate, held his own hand down and nodded toward the spearhead of the indian and said aloud in Spanish "peace." Neither understood one another; they could only dictate their next actions based on the universal body language of fight, flight or come in peace.  The Indian quickly demonstrated his pouch of shells and scooped his hand into the back and let many of the whelks and sand dollars fall to the sand.  Useful and valuable to the Calusa, the shells of course meant nothing to

the Spaniards and a sort of smirk fell over the group of Conquistadors, the very smirk that probably lifted them fairly shortly from their lives.  Another man shot a cross bow into the shoulder of the indian. His bag dropped suddenly to the sand.  "They are after the silver!" the man said and traced another arrow into his bow.  This would be all that it took.  The Spanish were ultimately outnumbered.  The Calusa from behind the ridge were accurate to within an inch of whatever they laid aim upon and within minutes the large dark foreign men lay on the beach.  The ship merely waved back and forth  to the waves.  The sun had sunk but a fire had begun to blaze and threw sparkling stars over the ton of Brazilian silver which sat at the corner of the scene like nothing more than the silent spectator it was.

Nature Journal

"There was no sound, no lapping waves against the rocks, no rustling of leaves or moaning of wind through the trees, one of those times when all seems in suspension and even the birds are hushed." Sigurd Olson, from Listening Point








6 Feb.


One of the great walkable patches of quiet land in the area is tucked between Veteran's Memorial Park hwy. 16 West Salem, and the entry onto the Great River State Trail, which lays parallel to train tracks that cross the backwaters of the La Crosse River.  Here the path is flat and lush either summer or winter.  In summer the red wing blackbirds stand their usual guard at cattail outposts, butterflies flit about the red-stemmed thorn and purple paintbrushes, and the ultimate entertainer, the caterpillar, can't seem to get enough crawl time over the soft warm gravel trail, where children pick them up and inspect nature close up. In winter, the dollops of recent snow that hang on the branches of the basswoods or the milkweed stems melt slowly against the afternoon sun so that when they fall the twigs and branches snap back to place as if for no reason, leaving the walker to look in and around the frozen marsh gulleys in suspicion and wonder. Two hawks, now in hog heaven so to speak, squawk as if in appreciation as they weave in circles across the powder tone sky.

On Useppa

"Its jaws were working convulsively in quick bites against the hook and it pounded the bottom of the skiff with its long flat body, its tail and its head until he clubbed it across the shining golden head until it shivered and was still."  Old Man and the Sea








The youngest of the Calusa scouting party was the one who first understood why the great ship before them had been tied down onto its side in low tide.  The great Spanish Galleon, known in that native tongue as as El Capitan, part of the newly conceived Spanish Treasure Fleet, had been careened and

lay at something close to a 45 degree angle in shallow water.  The young Calusa could see that the foreign men had formed their supply camp on the white beach and that long ropes were tied to the masts and strapped to palm trees deeper into the shoreline.  Men were either crouched at the seam where the ship touched the lapping water or were suspended up on several rungs of hand made ladders.  The Calusa son, no older than fourteen years old, said out loud that "they are cleaning the great house on

the water." The old warriors, colored in all varieties of war paint, pikes in hand to stabilize their dugouts at a distance out of the way of the eyes of the Spanish, nodded that this was a possibility.  And if this was the sole purpose of these foreigners, than maybe they could make peaceful contact and offer some form of trade; their own great nation of peoples, with the support of the great sun and water and animal gods, ruled these blue waters and the house now sitting at a vulnerable tilt was not fierce looking at all considering the work they were doing.  The elders raised up large pouches of shells as if

in a weighing motion to consider what it would be that they could ask for in return.  They knew of other wrecks by the hands of the great southern winds and knew of the silver metals that these ships carried.  They also knew of other things that had become spectacularly mysterious in their knowledge-making for the tribe: pieces of rolled paper with lines drawn that looked, when considered for a great while, much like the contours of the very islands and rivers that they lived.  How these men of the sea came to possess such knowledge of the shapes and distances of things created such a phantom of mystery that the new comers, the Espanol as they called themselves, were both extremely feared and revered in the same moment, to such a degree that a Calusa, upon initial contact, might as easily attack as behold.  The young Calusa in the dugout pitched his pike down along the side of the dugout and heaved onward, lacking fear, as young men do who do not yet know the reality of true danger.  The others followed, knowing this was the right thing.  Above, the sun was Florida yellow and turned the water ahead to a bejeweled coloration that only the natives themselves could take for granted.  A sea turtle surfaced just ahead and the young tribesman made a gesture, picking up his pike, as if he were to throw it and impale the great creature rising from the shallow depths.  This was an arrogance that the elders did not allow and motioned for the youth to move back in the ranks of the dugouts, which forced a sour grimace on the young man's face.  "We will land on the other side of the island and some of us will approach the foreign visitors with our bags of the sea's jewels." Off in the distance, the

careened ship had just been released back up right. The voices of commands in a strange tongue could be heard traveling across the surface of the blue water.  None of the participants in this simple moment, when considered in context of the long perspective of ancient sea-time, could have understood, but this was the moment of the turning of the history of Florida and therefore the Americas, as the possession of this magical peninsula, called "The Land of Flowers" later by Spanish founder Ponce de Leon, slipped out of the hands of the native tribes of the old ocean world, to the new powers of this unknown seafaring world.