Heading his craft to the westward, he bade the men give way with a will. Encouraged by the manner in which all obstacles had thus far been overcome, they were ready and willing subjects. After pulling about three miles, the rougher sea and the depth of water which the bowman had continually reported, assured Somers that he must have reached the Middle Ground, where vessels bound out usually came to anchor when subjected to any delay. The Ben Lomond, if she was in the bay, could not be far distant; but the fog and darkness prevented him from seeing a ship's length ahead.
"Can you see anything, Mr. Longstone?" asked the young commander, who felt that he was now in the midst of the greatest obstacles to the success of his mission.
"I can't see anything," replied the boatswain; "but I think I hear something. There, sir! Two bells just struck in a vessel dead ahead."
"I see her," said the bowman. "It's a rebel iron-clad!"
"She's an ugly customer. I don't want anything of her," said Somers, as he ordered the boat to go about, and headed her to the north-east.
"Boat ahead, sir!" reported the bowman.
"Speak out, man!" said the commander. "I am not afraid of being seen now. Where away is she?"
"On the port quarter, sir."
"Starboard, coxswain," continued Somers.
In a few moments the dark outline of the boat was seen in the water, and the coxswain was directed to steer towards her. Somers was fully committed now, and intended to carry himself through by impudence and audacity. He was in the midst of the rebel fleet to be used for the defence of the bay. He knew that the waters around him were patrolled by picket boats, and he doubted not the craft before him was one of them. He could not find the Ben Lomond readily, and probably the officer of this boat would know her position.