We reached Charleston January 2, 1811, and spent several days there. The bishop preached several times. I attended to some important business for the Book Room, procuring drafts, etc. After several days’ riding and preaching, on Monday 28 we crossed Cape Fear River at Governor Smith’s Ferry. The bishop was oft in perils on the land, on the water, on the mountains, and in the woods. Of these he makes but little mention in his journal. One of the most fearful perils he had while I was with him was at this ferry. We started to cross with one ferryman instead of two. I was holding the bridles of our horses, standing between their heads. Another ferryman came up with a canoe. I warned him not to let it strike our boat; but he did not heed the caution, and his canoe struck our scow, which so frightened one horse that he sprang against the other and both went overboard. The bishop and myself were also in danger of being knocked overboard and drowned, as the water was very deep. The bishop was seated at the end of the scow with his staff in his hand. One of the horses struck the staff and broke it, and a little more and it might have broke his leg or knocked the feeble old man overboard. I held on to the reins of one, and he swam along the side of the scow; the other began to swim toward the shore, but seeing which way the other horse was swimming he turned round and passed us, and reached the opposite shore before we did. There he sunk in the mud, and his exertions to escape only sunk him deeper, and his case became more hopeless. The bishop looked very sad as he saw his favorite animal floundering in the mud. Just then an old colored woman, a slave, made her appearance, and she was full of sympathy. “O,” said the bishop, “my horse is mired, and I am afraid we shall never be able to get him out.” “O yes, massa,” said she, “you will, for we will call the colored people down from their quarters, and they will lift him out bodily.” At this the bishop laughed most heartily. But previous to sending for help I thought I would try what could be done. So I got a rail and put it under the horse’s haunches, and he gave a spring and was soon out, to the bishop’s great joy as well as my own. The bishop’s saddle-bags were fastened to his saddle, mine were not, and they floated down the stream. I felt much anxiety until I recovered them, as I had many dollars in them belonging to the Book Room. Our clothes, books, and manuscripts were all well soaked. We spent hours in drying them, and then started on our journey. Bishop Asbury was much alarmed, far more so than I had ever seen him. Our preservation and that of the horses was providential, and we had special cause for thanksgiving.[36]