History survives on Island
By Dorothy Smiljanich/For The Tampa Tribune

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Kingsley Plantation
Mayport Ferry
Mayport Naval Station
Avoid the confusion

A massive metal wash tub on the grounds of the Kingsley Plantation here carries a plaque that includes instructions from a pioneer mother to her daughter on the subject of washing clothes.

They begin: ``Build a fire in backyard to heat kettle of rain water. Set tubs so smoke won't blow in eyes if wind present.''

They end: ``Turn tubs upside down. Put on clean dress. Comb hair. Brew up tea. Sit and rest a spell and count blessings.''

In all of Florida, few places so invite resting a spell and counting blessings as the northeast corner of this state - a region that is blessed with natural beauty, rich in human history, and busy with worldly affairs.

Here, every day, the Mayport Ferry - the last state-operated ferry in Florida - shuttles back and forth between Mayport and Fort George Island, oblivious to the fact its very existence is imperiled.

Here, on a weekend afternoon in springtime, two members of St. George's Episcopal Church, which dates back to the mid-1800s and is as dignified as it is tiny, plant flowers along the pathway to the church door, but hospitably pause to lead an impromptu tour for a passer-by.

Here, on a Saturday morning, a sailor at the entrance to the Mayport Naval Station looks momentarily bewildered when the driver of a car full of civilians asks, ``Can we go on a boat today?'' Then, having translated their request into militarese, he responds, ``Yes, m'am, you can tour a ship today.''

Here, parks and recreational areas - from the city of Jacksonville's lake-dotted Hanna Park and its Christmas-tree strewn Huguenot Memorial Park, to the state's Little Talbot Island with 5 1/2 miles of unspoiled Atlantic beach - invite visitors to enjoy the sun, sand and water, whether they prefer it salty or fresh.

Here, all of them - plantations, parks, ferries, ships, islands and friendly people - offer visitors an almost bewildering confluence of diversions. And ``confluence'' is the precise word, suggesting as it does water - the flowing currents, rising and falling tides, eddying ponds, crashing waves, swift undercurrents, fresh water lakes, and assorted creeks, ditches and canals that so define this area and that have, through the centuries, shaped its destiny.

KINGSLEY PLANTATION
The plantation situated on the northern end of Fort George Island, where a nearby marker notes that the first Protestant prayer service in North America was held in 1562, is the Kingsley Plantation.

Zephaniah Kingsley lived here from 1813 to 1839 and operated one of the most successful of the ``sea island'' plantations. He grew cotton, sugar cane, sweet potatoes and citrus; worked a slave labor force of as many as 100 people; and is said to have fathered 10 children by three women, all of whom had at one time or another been slaves and one of whom he made his legal and apparently beloved wife.

The great, white plantation house overlooks the wide Fort George River and is, according to Kathy Tilford, the oldest plantation house standing in the state of Florida. Tilford is a ranger with the National Park Service, which in October 1991 assumed operation of the site from the state of Florida, which had had it since 1955.

The plantation house is constructed chiefly of pine, cypress and tabby, a building material made from crushed coquina shell. The main house features a front veranda, high ceilings and a separate kitchen, detached from the house in order to reduce the dangers of fire from cooking.

Unfortunately, before the site became state property, extensive renovations had been made by owners subsequent to Kingsley and the house has taken a decidedly Victorian turn in some ways. Among the changes, fireplaces were removed, staircases were added, and open walkways were covered.

Even so, the hour-long, free tour of the house and related structures, including the old kitchen, is well worth the taking.

Afterward, visitors will want to amble around the wide grounds, poking into the still standing livestock barn; reading all of the instructions given by the pioneer mother to her daughter on the subject of washing clothes; and most certainly visiting the remains of 23 of the original 32 slave cabins.

``There are antebellum houses standing everywhere in the South, but few slave quarters still standing,'' says Brian Peters, a park service ranger at the site, where some 25,000 visitors are expected to have called this year.

Some of them, no doubt, come by way of the Mayport Ferry.

THE MAYPORT FERRY

Although it takes the ferry only 10 minutes or so to cross the St. Johns River, some travelers opt to take the Dames Point Bridge. The bridge, which opened in 1989, has proven so popular with drivers that ferry ridership has dropped considerably and state transportation officials say the ferry may have to be closed.

That would be a pity: There may be faster and cheaper ways to get to the island, but none is as charming and leisurely as riding a ferry. The voyage is all too short, but fun while it lasts.
White seabirds wheel and screech overhead, looking for a handout; hard working shrimp boats hug old wharves along the banks; and the salty sea air blowing in from the ocean washes across the ferry's decks. There is just enough time to dream that you are going out to sea, or perhaps up a mighty river, before the ferry bumps into its dock on the opposite shore.

Better enjoy the experience now: if ridership and thus revenues do not improve, long-term prospects for the ferry are not bright.

Still, nice as the ferry is, it is no match for the mighty USS Vreeland with its proud motto, ``Where duty and glory lead.'' Duty and glory only lead the poor little ferry back and forth across the river all day long; they have led the daring Vreeland around the globe.

MAYPORT NAVAL STATION
On weekends at the Mayport Naval Station, the U.S. Navy traditionally offers free tours of a ship in port. The routine is for civilian visitors to hurry up and wait ... . No, no, no; sorry about that; let's start again: The routine is for civilian visitors to show their driver's licenses at the main gate and then be directed to the appropriate vessel.

The day we visited, the Vreeland, under Commander Jesse Johnston Kelso, was the ship-of-the-day. A dozen or so curious civilians swarmed over her, each group accompanied by a sailor in, yes, bell bottom trousers, shirts of Navy blue.

The Vreeland looked smaller than some of the other ships in the port, but she was the exact same battleship gray. She is, we were told, a frigate used in anti-submarine, anti-air and anti-surface warfare. But our sailor-guide called her ``a subchaser'' and that sounded a lot more exciting.

The ship reportedly had done its duty, which included mine sweeping, during the war in the Persian Gulf, and the sailor seemed proud of that. He seemed proud too when he reported that, on her way home, she had come through a hurricane with seas so rough that waves were breaking over the bridge.

``I could stand at the foot of a stairwell and, if I timed the jump just right, I could land at the top of the stairs,'' he explained with great relish.

His mood seemed to turn a bit melancholy, however, when he said that the Vreeland was to be leased to the Greek government; he seemed genuinely fond of the ship and a little sad about losing her.

Even those of us likely to call the Vreeland a boat instead of a ship enjoyed the hour-long tour. Corny as it may sound, watching Old Glory flap in the wind above the gray deck brought a swell of pride to the heart of more than one visitor.

AVOID THE CONFUSION
Having mentioned some of the Fort George-Mayport area pleasures, we feel compelled also to issue a warning of sorts: Travelers to the region may become a bit confused geographically. Mayport, for example, is really part of Jacksonville, but then, so is almost everything in the northeast corner of Florida. Coastlines here zig and zag. Roads twist and turn. Islands turn into marshes.

Parks and recreation areas seem to repeat, overlap and abound. There are so many rivers, coves, inlets and beaches that sometimes visitors can't even be sure where they have been or what direction they are headed. Why, even while studying a map of the region, we had a hard time figuring out exactly where we were.

But that is not necessarily a bad feeling - if you also don't much care and if you are willing to unwind, relax and see where the road leads. So: Turn tubs upside down. Put on clean dress. Comb hair. Brew up tea. Sit and rest a spell and count blessings.
For more information, contact the Jacksonville Convention and Visitors Bureau, 6 E. Bay St., Suite 200, Jacksonville, Fla. 32202; (904) 798-9148.