For some hours earth and water had been bathed in the semi-darkness of a misty night when the Seminole canoes issued from the broad mouth of the bayou. The stench of the mangrove swamps behind them still hung heavy in the lifeless air, and as they advanced, a thick gray fog crept in from the sea. Soon the trailing folds of vapor rolled in opaque clouds along the water, and hovered, damp and billowing, over the moving flotilla.