five o'clock
It rained all night . On Thursday , the 19th , it still rained steadily , but with no violence -- a fine , sweet , refreshing summer shower , made golden and beautiful at intervals by the momentary prophecy of the sun ; yet he did not wholly reveal himself , though he smiled through the mist at us in friendly fashion . I had been out fishing for trouts very early , the rain making it favourable for such pleasant sport , and my Indians and I had finished a breakfast of corn porridge and the sweet-fleshed fishes that I took from the brook where it falls into the Susquehanna . It was still very early -- near to five o'clock , I think -- for the morning gun had not yet bellowed , and the camp lay very still in the gentle and fragrant rain . A few moments before five I saw a company of Jersey troops march silently down to the river , hang their cartouche-boxes on their bayonets , and ford the stream , one holding to another , and belly deep in the swollen flood . Thinks I to myself , they are going to protect our cattle-guards ; and I turned and walked down to the ford to watch the crossing . Then I saw why they had crossed : there were some people come down to the landing place on the other bank in two batteaux and an Oneida canoe -- soldiers , boatmen , and two women ; and our men were fording the river to protect the crossing of this small flotilla .