Creek was passed on the left hand, knots of pine forests rose
picturesquely in places out of the bottom-lands, and an hour later, at
Bennett's Point, on the right, I found the watercourse a quarter of a
mile in width.

The surroundings were of a lovely nature during this day's journey. Here
marshes, diversified by occasional hammocks of timber dotting their
uninteresting wastes; there humble habitations of whites and blacks
appearing at intervals in the forest growth. As I was destitute of a
finished chart of the Coast Survey, after rowing along one side of
Hutchinson's Island I became bewildered in the maze of creeks which
penetrate the marshes that lie between Bennett's Point and the coast.

Making a rough topographical sketch of the country as I descended
Hutchinson's Creek, or Big River,--the latter appellation being the most
appropriate, as it is a very wide watercourse,--I came upon a group of
low islands, and found upon one of them a plantation which had been
abandoned to the negroes, and the little bluff upon which two or three
rickety buildings were situated was the last land which remained
unsubmerged during a high tide between the plantation and the sea.

I was now in a quandary. I had left the hospitable residence of Governor
Aiken at ten o'clock A. M., when I should have departed at sunrise in
order to have had time to enter and pass through St. Helena Sound before
night came on. The prospect of obtaining shelter was indeed dismal. Just
at this time a loud shout from the negroes on shore attracted my
attention, and I rested upon my oars, while a boat-load of women and
children paddled out to me.

"Is _dat_ de _little_ boat?" they asked, viewing my craft with curious
eyes. "And is dat boat made of paper?" they continued, showing that
negro runners had posted the people, even in these solitary regions, of
the approach of the paper canoe. I questioned these negro women about
the route, but each gave a different answer as to the passage through
the Horns to St. Helena Sound. Hurrying on through tortuous creeks, the
deserted tract called "the Horns" was entered, and until sunset I
followed one short stream after another, to its source in the reedy
plain, constantly retracing the route, with the tide not yet ebbing
strong enough to show me a course to the sound. Presently it ebbed more
rapidly, and I followed the tide from one intricacy to another, but
never found the principal thoroughfare.

While I was env