ceeded by the inside passage along the shores of St. Andrews Bay, to
attack them in front.
"This was to say the least, a very daring movement-23 men setting
out to attack 50 on their own ground. Fortune favored the enterprise. The
two parties arrived nearly simultaneously. The rebel guard, surprised by the
feeble numbers of their assailants, probably supposed that a whole regiment
was about to dash upon them, broke and fled in terror. The boilers and
kettles were broken to pieces, the chimneys and furnaces torn down, 600
bushels of salt thrown into the bay, and a general destruction so complete
effected as to render the works utterly useless. The two parties returned
from their prosperous excursion without any loss."
When the war ended, and the blockade had been lifted, salt-
making in Florida soon became memory. The kettles had ceased to boil,
and salt was again shipped into the southern states from the North.
Still standing are many reminders of the days of extreme handicap
under which courageous men worked to keep the industry of salt-making
alive. In walking through the marsh lands of Dickson's Bay, near Panacea, or
along Apalachee Bay, one can still see the remains of old wells and kettles
lying buried in the sand; or the site of the Tampa salt-works on old Tampa
Bay at Rocky Point, just south of the entrance to the Davis Causeway.
(1) Tallahassee Historical Society Annual (1933) p. 17
(2) " " " " " " 18
(3) " " " " " " 18
(4) Harper's New Monthly Magazine, Nov. 1866 "Florida-Her Crime
and Punishment," p. 174