I crawled back into the boat, my extremities dripping, and with reckless determination ordered the fellow to row right straight ahead. I was sick of this miserable agony of suspense and would end it, even if we ran into a man-of-war.
The boatman expressed the opinion that the boat from which we had been concealing ourselves was from the Fort, or belonged to the shipping outside, and I afterward learned that he was correct.
When we got a little further down the island shore, voices were again heard, this time from the land. Now I was sure we were all right, but I kept along quietly and smoothly until we were in sight of the old fort. I could now see objects moving about on the ground near the fort. We crept up still closer, and seeing a group of three persons standing together, a little ways back from the water, I rose to my feet and was about to hail them when we heard oars again from the outside.
I sat down again and begged the poor fellow to row for his life, which he did with a hearty good will; we then passed, without a challenge, a sentinel on the beach, and actually rode right up to the guard on the pier of the fort, and myself called their attention to our little boat.
A sergeant, who was within hearing, quickly ran up to the water's edge and roughly called a "halt," demanding to know our business; to which I replied: "I want to see Lieutenant Slemmer." We drew in shore; the sergeant took hold of the bow-string of our boat, and directed a soldier near by to call the officer of the guard, which was done in the most approved West Point style. All the same, however, I had gotten through their lines without a challenge, and if I had been bent on torpedo or dynamite business, it would have been possible that night to have surprised the garrison.
While waiting there, the old sergeant, who seemed to be very much incensed at my cheekiness, in running by his sentries, plied us with questions.
Pretty soon we were landed on the pier, and then I stood right under the gloomy shadow of the walls of Fort Pickens, talking with a young officer in the uniform of the United States service, and wearing the red sash of the officer of the day.
This young officer, whose name I have forgotten, received me cordially, and ordered the sergeant to take good care of my boatman. My idea had been, all along, to communicate with Lieutenant Slemmer, whom we had heard of in connection with the occupation of the Fort, and probably, also, because I had heard he was a Pennsylvanian, I imagined I should feel more freedom with him.
The officer of the day, to whom I expressed a desire to see Lieutenant Slemmer, said: "Certainly, sir, certainly. Will you please give me your name?" I merely said: "I am from Pennsylvania, and am going back soon, and wanted to tell him some news." The officer swung himself around and called to another sergeant "to make this gentleman as comfortable as possible till I return," which was a polite way of saying "don't let that fellow get away till I get back." He disappeared inside the cave-like entrance to the Fort.
Very soon two officers came out, to whom I was politely introduced as a young man from the other side to see Lieutenant Slemmer—the officer of the day explaining to me that Lieutenant Slemmer would be out just as soon as he could dress.