way back from Europe, to their homes in Carolina and Virginia, by this dangerous route; and all in danger of imprisonment at least, if captured.

By the uncertain light, I could see that most of them were pale and nervous: but they talked in an undertone, among themselves, and did not appear anxious to converse with strangers.

"Get up steam!" By this time the hoarse roar of the escaping vapor grew loud and menacing, there was a fresh bustle on deck, and I heard the Captain give orders to stand by for slipping from the moorings, and to hoist the signal, as we only waited for the pilot.

'There they are, sleek and right--three red lights, and a green one," murmured a tall Virginian, at my elbow; and looking up, I saw the colored lamps glimmer from the mast head. Instantly, they were answered by a similar signal from some window on shore.

"We'll soon see the pilot now," said Pritchard, rubbing his hands in a cheery manner; "the signal's made and repeated. In ten minutes our man will be with us. Helloa!-boat ahoy!-what d'ye want?"

"Bonneybell ahoy!" was the rejoinder, in a shrill, harsh voice, cautiously lowered for the occasion,-"pilot wants to come on board."

There was a stir, and a start of surprise, among those on deck; and as a rope was thrown down to the boatmen, Captain Pritchard bent over the side, exclaming:

"You're uncommon quick, my hearty. If you've come from shore since the lights were hoisted, you must be own cousin to the flying Dutchman. Are you sure you're our pilot?"

"I'm the pilot engaged by Colonel Jeremy Carter, of Spottsylvania, if that'll do," answered a very tall, bony,

black-haired man, as he actively ascended the side. "Zack Foster's my name, and I know every inch about Charleston where I was raised."

While the Captain--reassured by the mention of Colonel Carter's name-gave hasty orders to cast off the cable and go ahead, I, in common with the rest of the passengers, and the unoccupied portion of the crew, looked with much interest at the new-comer. The latter was about forty years of age, long and lean of figure, with a hardy, sun-burned face. There was no mistaking the resolute air and daring of the man. His mouth was as firm as iron, though a little dry humor seemed to lurk about his lips, and I hardly liked the expression of his half-shut eyes, which had a lazy cunning in their dark glance. Still, though dressed in a black suit of shore-going clothes, and a swallow-tailed coat, of antiquated cut, there was something about Mr. Zack Foster that spoke the thorough-bred scaman.

He took no share in the proceedings, for his duty did not begin till we were clear of Nassau Roadstead; but yet he seemed impatient for the start, gnawing viciously at his quid, and drumming on the taffrail, with a finger that seemed as hard and brown as bronze.

It was an anxious time, when the Bonnybell, under a full head of steam, went darting out of the bay, her lookout straining their eyes to pierce the mist, and give warning to the helmsman of vessels ahead; while Pritchard walked to and fro, too fidgetty and eager to endure conversation, listening every instant for some sound that was to indicate that the Federal cruizer had taken the alarm. But on we went without check or hindrance, and all drew our breath more freely, as the lights of the town, began one by one to vanish, as if the

sea had swallowed them, and the dark head-lands faded away into obscurity.

The American gunboat was neither seen nor felt; a circumstance which I did not the less regret, because I perceived, not only by the display of the cannon. alluded to, but by the resolute demeanor of several of the crew, who stood grouped about a couple of uncovered arm-chests, that our pigmy foe would not have found an entirely unresisting prize.

One slight circumstance, hardly, as I thought worth mentioning, did occur before we had run half a mile to seaward. There came a long, faint hail, from so great a distance as to be hardly distinguishable, even by a sailor's practiced ear, but which was announced to be addressed to us.

"Some boat, perhaps, with a message for a passenger. The lubbers deserve rope's-ending for being so latecan I lie-to safely, do you think?" said Pritchard to the pilot, irresolutely, and giving the word, "Slacken speed." What the pilot answered I know not. I only caught the concluding phrase—

Yankee tricks; so Cap you'd best look sharp about you."

So Pritchard thought. He gave the word to go at full speed, and we heard no more about the matter.

The run was speedy and pleasant, over a dimpling summer sea, with no boisterous behavior on Neptune's part, to make even the lady passengers uneasy. We saw several vessels, but none of a hostile character; and the voyage was as agreeable and safe hitherto, as any yachting excursion in holiday waters. We were all disposed to be pleased, and the pilot, although a saturnine and morose personage, viewed through this rose

colored haze of satisfaction and hope, became a popular man on board,

Captain Pritchard pronounced him worth his weight in gold; for if there were no gales, or rough seas to thwart our purpose, fogs were rather frequent, and here the pilot's intimate acquaintance with the rocks, shoals, and islets-many of which were not noted down in the chart-more than once saved the Bonnybell from an ugly thump upon some hidden obstacle.

For an American, Zack Foster was singularly silent; yet there was something elephantine about his high forehead and narrow dark eyes, which suggested shrewdness, rather than vanity. He did his work, answered when spoken to, but seldom addressed any one.

"Land-ho!" sung out the look-out man at the masthead, and Pritchard and the pilot, who were pouring together over the map, close to the binnacle, looked up, while the passengers edged nearer to hear the news. Pritchard lifted his telescope, while Foster went aloft for a better view!

"LAND-HO!"

"Edisto Island, as I said, Cap!" hailed the pilot; "and beyond it is the Carolina coast. We're close to home, gentlemen and ladies."

There was a cheer from the little group gathered near the helm, but directly afterward came two shrill cries of "sail ho!"

"Uncle Sam's breakers. We must put out a few miles yet, Cap.," said the pilot, as he leisurely descended the rope ladder. There were many good glasses on board, and we all gazed eagerly through them, and with beating hearts we recognised the port-holes, the grinning

cannon, the "star-spangled flags," and warlike display of the Federal blockading squadron."

The steamer was put about, and we stood further out, until shore and ships were alike lost to view. The disappointment of the passengers, who had been granted a mere glimpse of the land, that to them was home, was considerable; but none could doubt the prudence of delaying our entrance into Charleston harbor until night should assist us in eluding the hostile war vessels.

There was no going to bed on the Bonnybell that night; we all kept to the deck, gazing eagerly out over the sparkling and phosphorescent sea, glimmering and glancing with St. Elmo's fires. There was a pale young moon-a mere sickle of silver-in the sky; and objects were so faintly discernible, that the utmost caution was necessary.

The second mate took the helm, while the first mate superintended the almost constant heaving of the lead, and the captain and pilot stood on the forecastle, noting the replies of the sailor, chaunted, as they were, in a shrill monotone, in accordance with old custom.

"Ten fathoms, sheer! By the deep, nine! By the mark, seven!" called out the leadsman from the chains. "Water allers does shoal here, Cap. I know the channel, though, as well as I know my parlor ashore, at Nantucket--at Savannah, I mean," said the pilot, with some confusion.

"By the mark, five!" was the next call.

Captain Pritchard here grew uneasy. He did not pretend to equal the pilot in local knowledge, but he was too good a seaman not to take alarm at the abrupt lessening of the depth of water. He gave orders to reduce the speed, and we moved but slowly on, the lead going as before.