became surrounding objects, and at last, the island
mid-stream, on which a lighthouse was perched,
simply warned us of its presence by the flashing
of its beacon-fire. For an hour or more we lay
ensconced amidst the bank weeds waiting for
perfect darkness, and when at last Jeb and
myself were almost invisible to each other, the
careful negro pilot called out in a hoarse
whisper, "Now, sar, now de time, let us streak
it for old Virginny, dis niggar will neber tire."

Away then we started on our nine miles
voyage, and might probably have made four,
when from behind the island we were approaching
came the thud, thud, of a paddle-wheel
steamer; evidently a picket gun-boat moving
right across our track. I said nothing, but
waited for Jeb to speak his counsel. The poor
wretch no sooner heard the ominous sound
than he lost all control over himself and the
boat. As I had never paddled my own or any
other canoe, I was equally helpless. Visions of
incarceration arose before me, but Jeb muttered
that we should either be run down and allowed
to drown, or that our slightest movement would
bring a couple of rifle-shots in our direction;
meanwhile the steamer was drawing near, her
black hull dimly defined on the background of
the night, whilst we were idly drifting with the
tide. I whispered to the scared Jeb this
alternative; that he might take his choice of sitting
still and being shot by me, assisting my argument
with the click of a pocket revolver, or else
resume his paddle and make an effort to escape.
More alarmed than ever, Jeb dashed his
paddle into the water with a heavy splash. This
attracted the attention of the watch on board
the gun-boat. I could distinctly hear men
running along her decks, and the sound of their
voices, whilst lights flitted through her
portholes. This urged on Jeb to renewed efforts,
and turning the head of the dug-out with rapid
skill towards the shore we had left, we flew back
to the Maryland bank. Our only chance of
safety was the shelter of the enormous rushes,
until our foe had tired of his search after us.

We had not turned too soon. A feeler, in
the shape of a shot from a rifle, came astern of
Jeb, close enough to spirt over him the spray,
and to send him flying, paddle in hand, towards
me. "Goramighty, boss," he jabbered, "dey'll
gib us Hell now!" Thrusting him back, I told
him that if he didn't paddle for his life, before
they had time to take a second aim, he would
certainly lose it; and, with a "Lor' hab mussy
on dis niggar!" he frantically worked at the
"merchine."

A second and a third shot were fired in
different directions, as though they were feeling
for us with their bullets, and seeing an enemy in
the white crest of every ripple. To Jeb's
satisfaction, and no less to my own, we heard the
order given to go astern easy, and we both felt
that now or never was our chance. Jeb's arms
flew about like the sails of a windmill, and I
could feel my hair blown back by the breeze
that was raised by our speed.

When too late to be of any assistance, our
pursuers bethought them of their blue-lights,
and one after another was ignited from stem to
stern, sending searching rays around; but we
were safely shrouded in the darkness outside
their glare, and enjoying the illumination which
so distinctly pointed out to us the position of
the dreaded vessel. At last it was with intense
delight that I felt the dug-out raise herself gently
over some obstacle, and glide slimily into
a sighing harbour of dank rushes that closed
over our heads. To ascertain our whereabouts
was out of the question, and we had to await
the daylight to reconnoitre our position.

For two long wearisome nights, devoured by
mosquitoes, and for one tedious day, roasted by
the burning sun, we had to remain crouching in
our malarious bed. When morning dawned we
discovered that the tide had drifted us at least
ten miles below the point from which we had
started. We were on the outskirts of a
huge swamp, with neither a sign of man nor
habitation to be discovered. Groping my way
to the verge of the rushes, and glancing riverwards,
I saw looming from out the rising mists of
morning the dark hull of the Federal gun-boat
drifting with the stream, and at intervals lazily
using her paddles to regain the position she had
lost by the current, but ever hovering near like
a Destiny.

With no supply of food, and no apparent
means of obtaining any, our condition was
desperate. The gun-boat might, for all we
could tell, be ordered to remain on this station
for a week to come, and having excited her
suspicions on the previous night, she would
be more likely not to desert the neighbourhood.
Once or twice during the day her boats were
rowed towards the inlet from which we had
originally embarked, her officers evidently
concluding that to be our point of refuge. Their
withdrawal so far down stream as to be opposite
to us, was a cunning device to draw the badger
from his hole, by encouraging us to make a
second attempt.

My hunger, and that of Jeb, at length reached
a climax, and I had to threaten him that unless
he could rouse his torpid brain and suggest some
means of getting food, I should be obliged to
eat him. Taking this in earnest, he collected
his scattered ideas, and remembered that the
oysters embedded in the river bank were
remarkably fine; but, as they were only to be
found in eight-foot water, and he could not
swim, he had thought it prudent to conceal his
knowledge of the resources of the country
until put under pressure. I had soon provided
a large rock of oysters cemented together
towards the provisions of the day, a process
which had the advantage of combining the
luxury of a bath with a breakfast. My plunges
had to be hastily performed whenever the vessel
had turned a slight bend in the river, but I
soon got tired of catering; for Jeb, whose huge
mouth yawned like a churchyard filled with
tombstones, and whose capacity to bury any quantity,
seemed illimitable. Before our appetites were
satisfied, I was the best washed man in America.