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 quarter-deck, and was in turn saluted by the acting ensign on watch. "Anything new or strange to tell me, Mr. Robbins?" asked the captain carelessly. "Nothing at all, sir, except that a lone contraband came off to us in a leaky skiff, when I first took charge of the deck," was the reply. "Does he know anything?" was the captain's next question. "I did not interrogate him, sir, only just enough to find out that he is not a pilot." "Perhaps he knows where we can get one, so you might as well bring him aft." A messenger-boy was sent forward to obey this order, and presently brought to the quarter-deck the lone contraband of whom the ensign had spoken, and who was none other than Doctor Patten's boy Jonas, whom we saw watching the Union vessels from his hiding-place on the beach. The captain asked him who he was and where he belonged, what his master's politics were, and why he ran away from him and came off to the fleet, and then he said: