The visitors approached the vessel’s side almost unperceived; and when the young officer ascended to its deck, he found the captain anxiously absorbed in examining an old map, which was spread out before him. The expression of his weather-beaten face, as he raised it to return the salutation of his visitor, showed evident signs of being puzzled. “Where are you from?” inquired the landsman. “From Plymouth.” “What cargo?” “Why, a good many notions, of which you will know presently.” “And whither bound?” “Why that’s what I’m looking for on this old map, for I see nothing like it on shore; aye, here it is, St. Mary’s, the town of St. Mary’s, sir.”[2] “There is no such town in the state, sir,” replied the youth, “this river and the county bear that name; there is some mistake.” “Massa captain clear out for de county,” said Basil, grinning. “De boss lose his reckoning dis time,” rejoined Luke. “Be more respectful, and return to the boat,” said the young officer, checking their glee; then turning to the captain, he continued, “This map is an old one; there was formerly a town named St. Mary on this river—it was the first settlement in the state, and built in the time of the Calverts, but it has passed away and been forgotten for a century.” The disappointed face of the mariner was not the only one agitated by the news. The sailors belonging to the vessel had joined the group, and their rough appearance was strongly contrasted with the tall and elegant figure of a passenger, who had been drawn by the conversation from the cabin, and now stood leaning against the companion way. The young Marylander, who had not before perceived the stranger, thought, as he returned his salutation, that he had seldom looked on a countenance so interesting. It was youthful, but there was a shade of melancholy on the fine features, which, however, served only to confine, not hide the flashes of an enthusiastic spirit, which glanced from his full dark eye. “We are out of soundings, Mr. Egerton,” said the captain, “I might as well have cleared out for a port in the moon.” “The fault was mine, sir,” replied the person called Egerton, “and I regret having thus led you astray;” then, turning to the young American, he continued, “The disappointment is also great to me, sir, for the haven we sought was the home of my forefathers. I am a stranger in this country, having lately arrived from England. On landing at Plymouth I found this schooner loading for a southern port—and, wishing to visit Maryland immediately, I induced this worthy but too obliging man to bring the cargo hither. The silence of history has left the annals of Maryland so much in the shadow, that a foreigner feels doubtful whether a literal construction should be put on the desertion of a town, particularly when your port of entry also bears the name of St. Mary’s.”