Though the cold wind entered through broken
window-lights and under the rudely constructed
door, I slept comfortably until morning. Before
Charles had returned, my breakfast was cooked
and eaten.
With the sunshine of the morning came a
new visitor. I had made the acquaintance of
the late slave; now I received a call from the
late master. My visitor was a pleasant,
gentlemanly personage, the owner of the surrounding
acres. His large white house could be seen
from the landing, a quarter of a mile up the
road.
"I learned that a stranger from the north was
camped here, and was expecting that he would
come up and take breakfast with me," was his
kindly way of introducing himself.
I told him I was comfortably established in
dry quarters, and did not feel justified in
forcing myself upon his hospitality while I had so
many good things of this life in my
provision-basket.
Mr. Dudley would take no excuse, but
conducted me to his house, where I remained that
day, attending the religious services in a little
church in the vicinity. My kind host introduced
me to his neighbors, several of whom returned
with us to dinner. I found the people about
Pungo Ferry, like those I had met along the
sounds of the eastern shore of Maryland and
Virginia, very piously inclined, - the same
kindhearted, hospitable people.
My host entertained me the next day, which
was rainy, with his life in the Confederate army,
in which he served as a lieutenant. He was a
prisoner at Johnson's Island for twenty-two
months. He bore no malice towards northern
men who came south to join with the natives in
working for the true interests of the country.
The people of the south had become weary of
political sufferings inflicted by a floating
population from the north; they needed actual settlers,
not politicians. This sentiment I found
everywhere expressed. On Tuesday I bade farewell
to my new friends, and rowed down the North
Landing River towards Currituck Sound.
The North Carolina line is only a few miles
south of the ferry. The river enters the head
of the sound six or eight miles below Pungo
Ferry. A stiff northerly breeze was blowing,
and as the river widened, on reaching the head
of the sound, to a mile or more, and bays were
to be crossed from point to point, it required
the exercise of considerable patience and
muscular exertion to keep the sea from boarding
the little craft amidship. As I was endeavoring
to weather a point, the swivel of one of the
outriggers parted at its junction with the row-lock,
and it became necessary to get under the south
point of the marshes for shelter.
The lee side offered a smooth bay.
