stopped for the passage of a picket barge or gunboat in the darkness ahead, who saw us not, and for the bearings, which in our devious course we had lost in confusion. Once more we slowly proceeded, when suddenly, out of the darkness and close aboard, flashed the fiery train of a rocket, and a deep, commanding voice, just over the side, shouted "Heave to, or I'll sink you." Quickly our bridge responded "Aye, aye, sir, we stop the engines." "Back your engines, sir, and stand by for my boats," called the lusty man-of-war. But our paddles were not reversed. Lockhart said he never heeded such an order with the bar at hand; on the contrary our engines were evidently running away with the ship, and, while the confident blockader, diverted from his guns, was engaged in lowering his boats, the _Lilian_ was gliding away toward the bar. A trail of rockets and Drummond lights and bombshells from the rest of the fleet followed in our wake, but the friendly flash of signals from the fort encouraged us, while Gregory, with his masked lights, revealed to them our steady progress until we anchored under the Confederate guns. It was now broad daylight and the blockading fleet had sullenly withdrawn to a safe distance. We proceeded toward Fort Anderson and came to anchor at quarantine. The clouds had passed away, revealing in the brightness of the morning light the stately white columns of Orton House in the distance. Accompanied by our faithful Scipio and escorted beyond the fort by its courteous Colonel Hedrick, we proceeded in silence through St. Philip's churchyard and the dead colonial town of Brunswick, past Russellboro, where Governor Tryon met the first armed colonists (the cradle of American independence), through the long avenue of oaks, where, looking ahead, we beheld a sight which cheered our hearts; my friend and his daughter surrounded by the yelping hounds returning from a chase, for reynard's brush was at her saddlebow. With mutual exclamations of astonishment and delight we learned that the young captain had written by a flag of truce of his convalescence in a Northern hospital. I will not say the touching words that Scipio heard, as, with hands clasped by master and mistress, and with bowed head, he received their tearful benedictions. My friend has long since gone to his eternal rest and Scipio's white soul soon followed him. They are buried at Orton in a grove where the mocking bird builds its nest and sings; where, above the murmur of the tree tops, which bend to the soft south wind, is heard the distant booming of the sea, and in their death they were not divided. INDEX Abaco Light, Federal ships stationed near, 144. _Ada Iredale_ (_Annie Johnson_), derelict merchant ship, 5, 6. Adair, Capt. W.F., blockade runner _Antonica_, 107. _Advance_, blockade runner, ix. _Agnes E. Fry_, steamer, 241. _Alapaha_, steamer, 45.