We had some supper, consisting of eggs and bacon; and at nine o'clock, it being then pitch dark, the pilot informed us it was time to start.

I must say I should have been more comfortable if I had been on the bridge of my little craft, just starting over the bar at Wilmington, with the probability of a broadside from a gun-boat saluting us in a very short time, than where I was.

But it would never do to think of going back, so we crawled into the wood.
Our land pilot informed us that the bank of the river, from whence we should find a clear passage across, was about two miles distant.

I never remember seeing or feeling anything to be compared with the darkness of that pine wood, but our guide seemed to have the eyes of a basilisk.

We formed Indian file, our guide leading, and crept along as best we could.
At last, after stealthily progressing for half an hour, a glimmer of starlight through the trees showed us that we were getting to the borders of the wood.
A few minutes afterwards we were desired to lie down.