This is the time of clandestine movement, I reflected. The dark hours, when the world is utterly quiet. Its denizens huddled deep within their burrows, and even though held in the protective grip of sleep, yet still, they anxiously await the safety of the daylight to come. For all creatures of Earth instinctively know this to be the time when the monsters of our collective unconsciousness prowl the world in search of the unwary and unprotected. It is the time of disappearance and of the unseen passage—for purposes of both good and evil. It is a time I have made use of on many occasions before.

When we reached the mouth of the creek, where it joined up with Bull River, Danny Ray circled Miss Rosalie to gain Parker’s attention. Parker left his post at the bow and came aft where he caught the line Danny tossed and quickly tied the skiff to the stern. Danny Ray clambered aboard and both men came to join me in the pilothouse where we stood in the eerie red glow of the binnacle light.

“How far downriver?” Parker asked in a whisper.

I reached up, adjusted the radar screen, and studied it for a few seconds. The channel ahead was clear of any other boats and the banks were plainly visible on the instrument. We were alone and in the middle of the channel. I gave the GPS a quick glance and noted our position.

“We’ll make our way to the center of Wassaw Sound and then, just as the tide turns, head up the Wilmington River. All goes well, we’ll arrive at Bob’s dock just before daylight. If we hit any bumps on the way up, we’ll just let the rising tide float us over. Total time should be four to five hours,” I answered, also in a whisper.

Parker nodded his head in reply, while Danny Ray stared forward, peering intently into the fog and darkness, watching for unseen obstacles. Just then, he lifted his left hand and waved it slightly to the side.

“Th-th-th-that way. T-t-ten degrees,” he said, in a quiet voice. “L-l-low spot.”

I gave the wheel a slight turn and watched the bow of Miss Rosalie come smoothly to port. Just as the turn began, I glanced at the face of the depth finder and saw the bottom of the river rise sharply to within two feet of Miss Rosalie’s keel, but then drop away again to more than thirty feet of water as the turn was completed.

A few seconds later Danny Ray lifted his right hand and pointed straight forward. I brought the wheel back to its previous position and checked our location on the GPS and the radar. Danny Ray nodded his head in satisfaction and dropped his hand back to his side.

How could he possibly have known exactly where we were, much less that an unknown hump was before us? I wondered.