rance of which was on the right bank of the
Coosaw, nearly opposite Chisolm's Landing. It was nearly six miles by
this creek to Beaufort, and from that town to Port Royal Sound, by
following Beaufort River, was a distance of eleven miles. The mouth of
Beaufort River is only two miles from the sea. Preferring to follow a
more interior water route than the Beaufort one, the canoe was rowed up
the Coosaw five miles to Whale Branch, which is crossed by the Port
Royal railroad bridge. Whale Branch, five miles in length, empties into
Broad River, which I descended thirteen miles, to the lower end of Daw
Island, on its right bank. Here, in this region of marshy shores, the
Chechessee River and the Broad River mingle their strong currents in
Port Royal Sound. It was dusk when the sound was entered from the
extreme end of Daw Island, where it became necessary to cross
immediately to Skull Creek, at Hilton Head Island, or go into camp for
the night.

I looked down the sound six miles to the broad Atlantic, which was
sending in clouds of mist on a fresh breeze. I gazed across the mouth of
the Chechessee, and the sound at the entrance of the port of refuge. I
desired to traverse nearly three miles of this rough water. I would
gladly have camped, but the shore I was about to leave offered to
submerge me with the next high water. No friendly hammock of trees could
be seen as I glided from the shadow of the high rushes of Daw Island.
Circumstances decided the point in debate, and I rowed rapidly into the
sound. The canoe had not gone half a mile when the Chechessee River
opened fully to view, and a pretty little hammock, with two or three
shanties beneath its trees, could be plainly seen on Daw's Island.

It was now too late to return and ascend the river to the hammock, for
the sound was disturbed by the freshening breeze from the sea blowing
against the ebb-tide, which was increased in power by the outflowing
volume of water from the wide Chechessee. It required all the energy I
possessed to keep the canoe from being overrun by the swashy,
sharp-pointed seas. Once or twice I thought my last struggle for life
had come, but a merciful Power gave me the strength and coolness that
this trying ordeal required, and I somehow weathered the dangerous
oyster reefs above Skull Creek, and landed at "Seabrook Plantation,"
upon Hilton Head Island, near two or three old houses, one of which was
being fitted up as a store by Mr. Kleim, of the Fir