fying to the
timid ones, who straightway hid their clothing, and began carrying the
contents of their cellars, smoke-houses, and corn-cribs into the woods,
as they had done when the news came that Butler and Stringham had
reduced the fortifications at the Inlet; but, on this occasion, Mrs.
Gray's neighbors were all so busy with their own affairs that they did
not have time to run over and find fault with her because she did not
hide anything.

A few days of inactivity followed, during which the fleet was repairing
the damages it had received during the storm, and then a hush seemed to
fall upon the whole nation as the news was flashed over it that the
final struggle for the possession of those waters was about to begin.
The low, swampy shores of the Sound being but sparsely settled, and
nearly all the able-bodied men in the country, both white and black,
having been summoned to the Island, some as soldiers and the others to
work on the forts and trenches, there were few to witness the grand and
imposing spectacle the fleet presented as it moved into position on the
evening of February 5, and dropped anchor within a few miles of the
entrance to Croatan Sound; but among those few was one who was destined
to bring Marcy Gray into deeper trouble than he had ever known before,
and the reader will acknowledge that that is saying a good deal. It was
Doctor Patten's negro boy Jonas. He lay flat behind some obstruction
near the water's edge, and took in the whole scene as if it had been a
review arranged for his especial benefit. He saw the waters of the Sound
splash as the heavy anchors were dropped into them, and could even hear
the shrill tones of the boatswains' pipes. When darkness came and shut
the nearest vessel out from his view, he scrambled to his feet and
hastened toward his master's house, muttering under his breath:

"Jonas been prayin' hard fur de Yankees to come, an' bress de Lawd, here
dey is! Now, what Jonas gwine do?"

CHAPTER IX.

LOOKING FOR A PILOT.

Bright and early the next morning the captain of one of the twenty-seven
gunboats that were attached to the Burnside expedition, came out of his
cabin to take a breath of fresh air before sitting down to his
breakfast. He was a large, full-bearded man, had a broad and a narrow
band of gold lace around each sleeve of his coat, a lieutenant's straps
on his shoulders, and wore his hands in his pockets. When he went up the
ladder he lifted his cap to the