Continuing Lt. William Henn's account of his trip along southeastern Florida's largely uninhabited coast in 1891.

. . . everything appeared to be in our favor -- settled weather, a fair wind, and smooth water; so congratulating ourselves on our good fortune, we made the requisite preparations for a night at sea, and at 6:30 P.M. let her go north.

Until midnight all went well. We passed Hillsboro Inlet, and were some twenty miles to the northward of it, when suddenly the wind increased, and hauled farther ahead, with passing showers of light rain; but the water was still smooth, so we reefed the mainsail and held on. At 3 A.M., having passed Lake Worth Inlet, and being within ten miles of Jupiter, we ran into a heavy swell setting from the northeast, and at once knew that Jupiter Bar was impassable. We could already hear the thunder of the surf on the beach, and see the line of white breakers on our lee beam. The wind all the time was increasing, so we now close-reefed the mainsail and stowed the jib. For a craft of her size, the Minehaha was doing right well, but it was trying work. She was shipping water, and I could see Skipper was anxious. I must confess I felt the same. It was no use disguising the fact, we were "regularly caught on a lee shore," and cut off from gaining any harbor.

However, we remembered the life-saving station at Jupiter; if we could manage to gain it, I knew I could depend on the captain and crew to do all in their power to save us. We spoke but little, for all were aware of danger we were in; but we drove the sloop to the best of her powers and longed for daylight.

About four o'clock we caught sight of Jupiter Light, the bright flash of which sent a ray of hope into our hearts, for it seemed like an old friend, and told us we would soon be within reach of assistance. Would the night ever pass away?

Tomorrow: Conditions get worse.