And now the strangest part of all, I had decided not to land in Southport.
It was seventy-two miles to Georgetown, and bad walking in the sand, I was told.
The more I thought of it, the sicker I became, and now what was I to do? Turn tramp?
Never!
Beating the trains would be infinitely preferable, and I would go back to Wilmington and do so.
The boat landed and discharged the passengers, when, to everyone's surprise, I remained on board, and just what they thought I am unable to say.
Quite likely the Philadelphia drummer thought the joke was on him, for I had told him I was so eager to get to Georgetown.
Passengers returning to the city now filed on, and in a short time the boat cast off and headed for Wilmington.
On the return trip I noticed I was charged twenty-five cents more than when coming down, and I supposed the home guards were allowed this discount. We landed in Wilmington just after dark.