His superior officer must have approved of the plans which Captain Benton (for that was the name of the Yankee skipper who had once been Lon Beardsley's prisoner) submitted for securing the services of a pilot who was familiar with the waters through which the fleet was to sail to victory, although not very much was done toward carrying them out until after dark. The day was not a favorable one for a movement on the part of the Union forces, for a thick fog came rolling in from the sea and covered the waters of the Sound. Once during the forenoon it lifted long enough to disclose the rebel fortifications on the Island, and the double rows of piles and sunken ships through which the _Fairy Belle_ had sailed a few weeks before, with Commodore Lynch's eight boats above, and then it settled down again thicker than ever. But two of the Union commanders at least were not idle, and when darkness came to conceal its movements, the expedition which they had quietly prepared during the day put off for the shore. It consisted of four cutters filled with small-armed men, two being from Captain Benton's vessel and the others from the gunboat that lay next astern. The work of securing the pilots was to be done by two squads of twenty men each, one under command of Captain Benton's executive officer, the second being led by an acting ensign from the other vessel. Mr. Watkins's boat was first in the line and the boy Jonas, who crouched in the bow of his cutter, was the guide and pilot. A second expedition, which put off from the flag-ship an hour later, held straight for the shore and stopped when it got there; but the one in whose fortunes we are at present most interested did not stop. It turned into the mouth of a little river which was seldom navigated, even by the fishing and trading boats that were so numerous in the Sound. It was known as Middle River; and if Jonas, who had lived upon its banks ever since he could remember, had been asked how long it was and where it took its rise, he would have been obliged to say that he did not know. But he did know that by following some of its numerous tributaries the expedition could pass in the rear of the forts at Plymouth into Seven Mile Creek, and land within a few hundred yards of Captain Beardsley's house and Marcy's. And that was just what it did.