It was with a caution rendered necessary by the presence of the vessels in the harbour, that Gerald Grantham and his faithful companion, having gained the middle of the river, now sought to approach nearer to the shore. The night, although not absolutely gloomy, was yet sufficiently obscure to aid their enterprize; and notwithstanding they could distinctly hear the tread of the American sentinels, as they paced the deck of their flotilla, such was the stillness of Sambo's practised paddle, that the little canoe glided past them unheard, and, stealing along the shore, was enabled to gain the farther extremity of the town, where however, despite of the most scrupulous inspection, not the slightest evidence of a collective movement was to be observed. Recollecting that most of the American boats used for the transport of their Army from the Canadian shore, (which they had occupied for some time,) were drawn up on the beach at the opposite end of the town, and deeming that if any attempt on the batteries was in contemplation, the troops ordered for that duty would naturally embark at a point whence, crossing the river considerably above the object of their expedition, they might drift down with the current, and effect a landing without noise, he determined to direct his course between the merchantmen and vessels of war, and pursue his way to the opposite end of the town. The enterprise, it is true, was bold, and not by any means, without hazard; but Grantham's was a spirit that delighted in excitement, and moreover he trusted much to the skill of his pilot, the darkness of the night, and the seeming repose of the enemy. Even if seen, it was by no means certain he should be taken, for his light skiff could worm its way where another dared not follow, and as for any shot that might be sent in pursuit of them, its aim would, in the obscurity of the night, be extremely uncertain.