“She’s gittin’ away from us, sir,” called the sailor.

“I see she is,” said the Commodore, “and I don’t believe she can get around the island on this side.”

But away she went, wind and tide carrying her up the wrong channel.  Laughing at the amusing persistence of the craft, all we could do was to keep her away from the marshes and let her go.

The creek rapidly narrowed; the marsh gave way to woodland; and just ahead was but a small passage between island and mainland for us to go through.  We pushed in between waving walls of autumn foliage.  Branches tapped on our windows, and crimson sweet gum leaves pressed against the panes as if to make the most of their little moment for looking in.

Gadabout passed through the narrow opening without a stop, though carrying twigs and bright leaves away with her.  We ran the next straight stretch of the creek, and at the bend came upon another island.  Here shoals and cypress stumps quite blocked the channel.  In a good, old landlubberly manner we hitched Gadabout to a tree and waited to see if the rising tide would make a way for us.

[Illustration:  Hunting for the channel.]

[Illustration:  Approaching in A narrow place.]

Houseboating was taking us into strange places.  And yet what a comfortable way to journey into the world in the rough!  Many are the advantages of houseboating over camping or any other form of outing.  In a floating home one goes into the wild without sacrificing the comforts or even the essential refinements of life.  For women it is an ideal way to visit Dame Nature.

But now the houseboaters upon Gadabout were becoming fearful lest Dame Nature had closed her doors on ahead of them and would not receive them up the Kittewan.  It was good news when the sailor called from his rowboat that he had found a channel for going on around the island.

This tune Gadabout showed a willingness to go just where we wished her to go, but insisted upon doing it stern-foremost or broadside.  We ran her forward and backward and poled most vigorously; but after all had the humiliation of drifting around the island wrong end first.

After that there was little trouble in going up the stream.  Before long an old homestead came in sight on a hill to our left, and we knew that it must be Lower Weyanoke.  But an impassable marsh stretched along the stream, and there was no sign of a landing or of a roadway that might lead to the house.  We kept on, curious now to see how far our houseboat could go.  Suddenly we found out.  She turned a bend and, there ahead, hummocks and stumps occupied about all there was left of Kittewan Creek.

The head of navigation had been reached for even our presumptuous craft.  An anchor was cast; whereupon Gadabout swung to one side, bumped against a tree, and then settled herself comfortably in the marshes to await our pleasure.  It would not do to let the falling tide catch us in that place.  Fortunately, there was a marshy cove on one side of us, and by backing into that we got turned around and headed down stream again.  We found a deep place that would do for an anchorage nearly opposite Lower Weyanoke, and close beside a little company of trees that showered Gadabout with red and yellow leaves.