The reports of the leadsman were satisfactory, and the steamer went ahead for an hour. Then they began to give a diminution of the depth of water, indicating, as Christy stated it, that the vessel was approaching the land. He looked over the log slate, and found that the course had been due east till the order had been given to head her in the opposite direction. She had sailed rather more than an hour on that tack, during which the recapture of the steamer had been made. "Mark under water twelve!" shouted the man with the hand lead. "We are coming up with the shore," said Mr. Flint, as Christy joined him on the bridge. "Yes; but you will get four or five fathoms almost up to the beaches. When I was here, the Bellevite was anchored outside, and we went gunning and fishing in St. Andrew's Bay. The bay is about thirty miles long; but it is as crooked as a ram's horn, and there is no town on it, though there are some scattered houses," added Christy. "We shot fat ducks, and caught plenty of red snappers and pompana there." "And a half ten!" shouted the leadsman, as though he meant to have his figures understood, as they indicated the shoaling of the depth. But Christy gave no order to reduce the speed of the vessel, and seemed to feel so thoroughly at home that Mr. Flint began to be a little nervous. The young commander had carefully studied the chart of the coast with the practical knowledge he had of the locality. "Can you form any idea where we are, Captain Passford?" asked the lieutenant. "I figured up the course a while ago, and I think we are off St. Andrew's Bay. If they had not put her about and run for an hour or more to the westward, I should be satisfied in regard to my position; as it is, I am not quite clear in regard to it," replied the commander. "Quarter less ten!" shouted the leadsman, with even more vigor than before. "That will do; stop her and anchor, Mr. Flint," said Christy, as he looked about him in an endeavor to penetrate the fog in which the vessel was buried. Then he listened for any sounds that might come to him from the direction of the shore; but all was as still as the tomb itself. The screw stopped in obedience to the order of the executive officer, who went down to the deck to supervise the anchoring of the steamer, as he had no inferior officer to attend to this duty. "Mr. Flint, drop a drift lead, and station a hand to observe it," said Christy, hailing the first lieutenant. "A drift lead, sir," replied Mr. Flint. This was a lead weighing twenty pounds, which is dropped on the bottom by men-of-war to determine if the anchor holds, or if the vessel is drifting. "Station a strong lookout, Mr. Flint, and send a man aloft on the foremast and another on the mainmast," continued Christy when the other orders had been obeyed.