Upon reaching the sharp bend in the river at the point of the peninsula, we could see one reason anyway why Grant should have chosen this as a place for crossing the James.  Here, the banks of the river suddenly draw close so that the stream is less than half a mile wide.  However, it makes up in depth what it has lost in width, the channel at this point being from eighty to ninety feet deep.  Even at the last of the tide the water here flowed swiftly and with ugly swirls and oily whirlpools that made the river seem vicious.

Now, we ran toward the southern shore to look at the ruins of a fort built in the War of 1812.  The sun was setting beyond the high bluff that backed the fort, and the place lay blurred in the shadow; but apparently time, and perhaps the hard knocks of war, had not left much of Fort Powhatan.  Two creeks that enter the James near the old fort received our close scrutiny, for every side stream tempted us.  We would wonder how far Gadabout could follow each winding way, and what she might find up there.

[Illustration:  Upper Weyanoke.]

A short run farther up the river took us abreast the pier at Upper Weyanoke; and, passing around it, we cast anchor within a stone’s throw of the plantation home.

[Illustration:  At anchor off Weyanoke.]

We sat out in the cockpit a long time that night enjoying the strangely quiet mood of the Powhatan.  The old river flowed so peacefully that it mirrored all the sky above; and we looked down into a maze of stars with the sea-tide running through.  Then a blinding light put out all our stars as the night boat from Richmond came down the river and trained her searchlight so that it picked Gadabout out of the darkness.  Our whistle saluted with three good blasts.  The searchlight responded by making three profound bows—­so profound that they reached from the high heavens down to the water at our feet.  Then, it suddenly whipped to the front to pick out the steamer’s course again through the darkness of the night.

While lying at anchor in front of Upper Weyanoke, we made further visits at the plantation home.  Despite the ravages of war and of two destructive fires, relics of old-time life are at this plantation too.  It was pitiful, but amusing as well, to hear how some of these escaped the war-time vandalism.  The soldiers who had stripped the home—­even of carpets—­when they left the plantation to cross the James, would have been chagrined could they have looked back over the river and have seen old family treasures coming out from secret nooks and old family silver from a hollow tree.

Mrs. Douthat told us how Nature favoured Grant in the crossing of the James.  Though comparatively the river is so narrow at the point of the Weyanoke peninsula, yet to get to the stream at that point it was necessary for the Federal forces to traverse an extensive swamp.  Apparently the swamp was impassable; but the officers found, running through it, a most peculiar formation—­a natural ridge of solid earth.  It was a ready-made military roadway upon which the troops could pass through the swamp and reach the river.  Mr. Douthat always declared that “The Almighty had built it for them.”