Christmas, 1912

Christmas.  Turned out to be a bright, frosty morning with a skim of ice in pans on the deck.  Great excitement, for there hung our two stockings filled with presents which we had hung up last night.  Looked kind of Christmasy anyway.

Breakfast over, we opened our bundles, dolled up the cabin with two little red paper bells and would have decked Scotty out with a red ribbon, but just then she heard something like a train of cars somewhere and flew to snug quarters in the lazaret.  Took things easy, but put in an hour or two on launch.  At 3 p.m. began preparations for grand feast.  Menu to be, raw oyster cocktail, roast pork, applesauce, spuds and a mince pie.

Everything going like mice when, just as pie went into the oven, round came the wind and away went my fire draught.  After hours of coaxing we finally sat down to some pork scraps stewed in fry pan and boiled spuds at 8 p.m.  Pie did finally dry up enough to be called cooked and was not so bad.  Scotty appeared this p.m. and with her pretty new ribbon around her neck, enjoyed a little oyster stew made of three oysters.  So ends Christmas 1912 which I had expected to spend in Jacksonville.


-from The Boy, Me and The Cat by Henry M. Plummer, December 25, 1912, from somewhere somewhere north of Cape Fear, North Carolina