After three hours' delay they were boarded by a pilot-boat, and then began to creep into the port.
The night was very dark, and a thin white fog lay on the water.
Wylie was sitting on the taffrail and conversing with Slocum, when the lookout forward sung out, "Sail ho!" Another voice almost simultaneously yelled out of the fog, "Port your helm!" Suddenly out of the mist, and close aboard the _Maria,_ appeared the hull and canvas of a large ship.

The brig was crossing her course, and her great bowsprit barely missed the brig's mainsail.

It stood for a moment over Wylie's head.

He looked up, and there was the figure-head of the ship looming almost within his reach.

It was a colossal green woman; one arm extended grasped a golden harp, the other was pressed to her head in the attitude of holding back her wild and flowing hair.