This is part two of a four-part series. (Only parts two and three are currently online.) Click here to go to part three.


Bermuda is only six hundred miles from Charleston; a fast ship could do the distance easily in forty-eight hours, but the Herald was slow: six or seven knots was her ordinary speed in good weather, and eight when she was pushed. She had tumbled about in the sea so much that she had put one of her engines out of commission and it had to be disconnected. We were thus compelled to limp along with one, which of course greatly reduced her speed. On the fifth day the weather moderated and we sighted two schooners. To our surprise, Captain Coxetter headed for them and, hailing one, asked her for her latitude and longitude. The schooner gave the information, adding that she navigated with a 'blue pigeon' (a deep-sea lead), which of course was very reassuring. We limped away and went on groping for Bermuda. Captain Coxetter had spent his life in the coasting trade between Charleston and the Florida ports, and even when he commanded for a few months the privateer Jeff Davis, he had never been far away from the land; but such was the jealousy of merchant sailors toward officers of the Navy that, with one of the most celebrated navigators in the world on board, he had not confided to anybody the fact that he was lost. On the sixth day, however, he told Commodore Maury that something terrible must have happened, as he had sailed his ship directly over the spot where the Bermudas ought to be!

Commodore Maury told him that he could do nothing for him before ten o'clock that night, and advised him to slow down. At ten o'clock the great scientist and geographer went on deck and took observations, at times lying flat on his back, sextant in hand, as he made measurements of the stars. When he had finished his calculations, he gave the captain a course and told him that by steering it at a certain speed he would sight the light, at Port Hamilton by two o'clock in the morning. No one turned into his bunk that night except the Commodore and his little son; the rest of us were too anxious. Four bells struck and no light was in sight. Five minutes more passed and still not a sign of it; then grumbling commenced and the passengers generally agreed with the man who expressed the opinion that there was too much d - d science on board and that we would all be on our way to Fort Lafayette as soon as day broke. At ten minutes past two, the masthead lookout sang out, 'Light ho!' and the learned old Commodore's reputation as a navigator was saved.

We ran around the islands and entered the picturesque harbor of St. George shortly after daylight. There were eight or ten other blockade-runners lying in the harbor, and their captains and mates lived at the same little whitewashed hotel where the Commodore and I stopped, which gave us an opportunity of seeing something of their manner of life when on shore. Their business was risky and the penalty of being caught was severe; a reckless lot they were, who believed in eating, drinking, and being merry, for fear that they would die on the morrow and might miss something.

The men who commanded many of these blockade-runners had probably never before in their lives received more than fifty to seventy-five dollars a month for their services; now they got ten thousand dollars in gold for a round trip, besides being allowed cargo space to take into the Confederacy goods which could be sold at a fabulous price, and also to bring out on their own account a limited number of bales of cotton worth a dollar a pound. In Bermuda these men seemed to suffer from a chronic thirst which could be assuaged only by champagne; and one of their amusements was to sit at the windows with bags of shillings and throw handfuls of the coins to a crowd of loafing negros in the street and watch them scramble. It is a singular fact that five years after the war not one of these men had a dollar to bless himself with. Another singular fact is, that it was not always the speedier craft that were the most successful. The Kate (named for Mrs. William Trenhoim) ran through the blockading fleets sixty times, though she could-not steam faster than seven or eight knots. That was the record; next came the Herald or the Antonica, as she was afterwards called.

Commodore Maury was a deeply religious man. He had been lame for many years of his life, but no one ever heard him complain. Although he had been many years in the navy, he scarcely ever put his foot on board of a ship without being seasick, and through it all he never allowed it to interfere with his duty. He was the only man I ever saw who could be seasick and amiable at the same time; while suffering from nausea, he could actually joke! I remember once entering his stateroom, where he was seated with a Bible on his lap and a basin beside him. I told him there was a ship in sight, and between paroxysms, he said, 'Sometimes we see a ship, and sometimes ship a sea!'

Not knowing of his world-wide celebrity, I was surprised to see the deference paid him by foreigners. We had no sooner settled ourselves at the Bermuda hotel than the Governor sent an aide to tell 'Lieutenant' Maury that he would be pleased to receive him in his private capacity at the Governnment House. In Europe the Commodore was known only as 'the great Lieutenant Maury'; they entirely ignored any promotions which might have come to him. The commander of Fort St. George also called on him, but took pains to explain that it was the great scientist to whom he was paying homage, and not the Confederate naval officer.

We remained in Bermuda for more than two weeks, waiting for the royal mail steamer from St. Thomas, on which we were to take passage for Halifax, N. S. Simultaneously with her arrival the United States sloops-of-war San Jacinto and Mohican put in an appearance, but did not enter the harbor, cruising instead just outside the three-mile limit, and in the track the British ship Delta would have to follow. Instantly the rumor spread that they were going to take Commodore Maury out of the ship as soon as she got outside, - color being lent to this rumor by the fact that it was the San Jacinto which had a short time before taken the Confederate Commissioners, Mason and Slidell, out of the Royal Mail Steamship Trent, - and I must say that we felt quite uneasy.

On the day of our departure a Mr. Bourne, a gentleman utterly unknown to me, asked me to accompany him to his office and there counted out a hundred gold sovereigns, sealed them in a canvas bag, and asked me to sign a receipt for them. I assured him that there must be some mistake, but he insisted that all was in order and that the money was given me by Mr. Trenholm's orders. Having had free meals and lodging on the blockade-runner, it was the first intimation I had that money would be necessary on so long a journey as the one I was about to undertake. I was still glowing with the satisfaction of the moneyed man when our ship nosed her way out of the harbor. The two American warships, as soon as we got outside, followed us; but as we rounded the headland we saw the British men-of-war Immortality and Desperate coming from Port Hamilton under a full head of steam. We expected every moment to witness a naval fight; the American ships, however, seemed satisfied with having given us a scare, while the Britishers followed us until we lost sight of them in the night.

We had one more thrill when we arrived off Halifax harbor. The sea was running very high, and a dense fog surrounded us. Suddenly the fog lifted for a moment and that cry, so dreaded by seamen, 'Breakers ahead!' came from the masthead lookout. The course was changed and the fog, more dense than ever, made it impossible to see the forecastle from the after part of the ship. We had not proceeded very far on our new course when again the fog lifted for a second or two, and again came the cry of the lookout, 'Breakers ahead!' followed by a frightened appeal: 'For God's sake, stop her, sir! We're right on them!'

The ship was stopped and backed. Again the course was changed, and in a few moments steam sirens seemed to be sounding all round us. Suddenly out of the gray pall rushed a great ocean liner, so close that she seemed for a moment to be on top of us. Grazing our side, she carried away with her one of our quarter-boats, and with her siren still screaming, she disappeared behind the veil of fog. Following the sound of her whistle, we soon dropped anchor in the harbor.

The governor of the colony of Nova Scotia, the general commanding the troops, and the admiral of the fleet, all treated 'Lieutenant' Maury, as they insisted upon calling him, with the most distinguished consideration, inviting him to dinners and receptions to which, as his aide, I had to accompany the great man. I particularly enjoyed the visit to Admiral Milne's flagship, the Nile, of 72 guns carried on three decks. The old wooden line-of-battle ship, with her lofty spars, was a splendid sight, and the like of her will never be seen again. What interested me most on board of her were the eighteen or twenty midshipmen in her complement, many of them younger and smaller than myself. They all made much of me and frankly envied me on account of my having been in battle and having run the blockade.

The officers of the garrison also were very kind to me, and they told me a story about their commander, General O'Dougherty, that I have never forgotten. It was about a visit the chief of the O'Dougherty clan paid to the general. Not finding him at home, he left his card on which was engraved simply, 'The O'Dougherty.' The general returned the visit and wrote on a blank card, 'The other O'Dougherty.'

After a few pleasant days spent in Halifax the Cunard steamer Arabia, plying between Boston and Liverpool, came into port and we took passage for Liverpool on her. The Americans on board resented our presence, and of course had nothing to do with us; but a number of young officers of the Scots Fusilier Guards, who were returning home for the foxhunting, were very friendly. They had been hurriedly sent to Canada when war seemed imminent on account of the Trent affair. It was the first time a regiment of the Guards had been out of England since Waterloo, and they were very glad to be returning to their beloved island. Among these young officers was the Earl of Dunmore, who, a few months earlier, wishing to see something of the war between the States, had obtained leave of absence, passed through the Federal lines, and gone to Richmond and thence to Charleston. He had traveled incognito under his family name of Murray.

At Charleston he had been entertained by Mr. Trenholm, and that gave us something to talk about. Dunmore was of a very venturesome disposition, and instead of returning north on his pass, he decided to enjoy the sensation of running the blockade. The boat he took passage on successfully eluded the Federal fleet off Charleston, but was captured by an outside cruiser the very next day. The prisoners were of course searched, and around the person of 'Mr. Murray,' under his shirt, was found wrapped a Confederate flag - the flag of the C.S.S. Nashville, which had been presented to him by Captain Pegram. Despite his protestations that he was a Britisher traveling for pleasure, he was confined, as Mr. Murray, in Fort Lafayette. The British Minister, Lord Lyons, soon heard of his fix and requested the authorities in Washington to order his release, representing him as the Earl of Dunmore, a lieutenant in Her Majesty's Life Guards. But the commander of Fort Lafayette denied that he had any such prisoner, and it required quite a correspondence to persuade him that a man by the name of Murray could at the same time be Lord Dunmore.

The Arabia was a paddle-wheel full-rigged ship, appearing to us to be enormous in size, though as a matter of fact she was not one tenth as large as the modern Cunard liner. She did not even have a smoking-room, the lovers of the weed having to seek the shelter of the lee side of the smokestack in all of weather when they wished to indulge in a whiff. A part of this pleasant voyage was very smooth, but when we struck the 'roaring forties' the big ship tumbled about considerably and my commodore was as seasick and as an amiable as usual.


The next few months I spent agreeably enough among pleasant people in France and England, with no serious work on my hands. Not so, however the Confederate agents. In spite of the tireless efforts of Charles Francis Adams, the American Minister to Great Britain, the commerce-destroyer Alabama had been got to sea, and early in April, 1863, I was notified that her running-mate, the Georgia, to which I had been assigned for duty, was ready to slip out of British waters.

The entire matter of the commissioning of the Georgia had been wrapped in darkest secrecy, which was maintained to the very end. One night, about half-past nine, I left the London Confederate headquarters in Little St. James Street, with a party of fellow officers, and took the train for Whitehaven, a seaport about an hour's ride from London. There we went to a small inn, where we met Commander Maury,1 Doctor Wheeden, and Paymaster Curtis, and were soon joined by others - all strangers to me. We waited at the inn about a couple of hours; there was little, if any, conversation, as we were all too anxious, and were all thinking about the same thing. In those two hours it was to be decided whether our expedition was to be a success or a failure. If Mr. Adams, the American Minister, was going to get in his fine work and baulk us, now was his last opportunity.

A little after midnight, two by two, we sauntered down to the quay, where we found at least a hundred people gathered near a little sea-going tug called the Alar. It was blowing a gale and a heavy sea was rolling in, which caused the little boat to bump herself viciously, against the stone dock, so that, but for her ample fenders, she must have stove her side in. We hurried on board and Mr. Chapman, taking up a position by the pilot-house, said to the crowd on the dock, 'Now, men, you know what we want of you: all who want to go with us, jump aboard!' About sixty responded to the invitation. The lines were cast off and the Alar shot out of the slip as a man on shore proposed three cheers for the Alabama, which were lustily responded to by our fellow passengers.

As we cleared the end of the docks, the little Alar poked her nose into a huge sea, and tried to stand erect on her stern, but not being able to accomplish that feat, she fell down into the trough and the next wave passed over her, drenching every man aboard to the skin. She next tried to hold her stern in the air while she stood on her stem, and when the foaming sea reached her pilot-house, she rolled over on her side as though she was tired and wanted to take a nap; but she was disturbed by another comber picking her up and slamming her down on the other side, with such force as to make every rib in her tiny body quiver. There were no secrets in that contracted space. The men aboard were supposed to be the crew of our cruiser, and the cargo of the tug consisted of our guns, shipped as hardware in boxes, and our ammunition. We were all huddled up together, and plainly heard the engineer tell the captain that one more sea like the last one which came aboard would put out the fires. For more than three days and nights, cold and wet, with no place to sleep and little to eat, we stumbled and tumbled down the English Channel; finally, when the gale abated at last, we saw on the horizon a trim-looking little brig-rigged steamer idly rolling on the swell of the sea, apparently waiting for something, and we steered for her. She proved to be the 'British' steamer Japan; her papers said that she was bound from Glasgow to Nagasaki,with an assorted cargo, but we doubted their accuracy.

Commodore Matthew F. Maury, who had bought and fitted out this ship, which had just been completed at Dunbarton on the Clyde, had outwitted the British government, but not Mr. Adams, who had warned the authorities of her character. How the British government could have been held responsible for her escape without stopping their whole commerce, passes my understanding. The vessel had not the slightest resemblance to a man-of-war; she nominally belonged to a private party, and there was not an ounce of contraband in her cargo, which consisted of provisions, coal, and empty boxes. Her captain himself did not know for what purpose she was intended. His orders were to proceed to a certain latitude and longitude near the island of Ushant on the French coast, where a tug would meet him and give him further instructions from his owner.

When we had approached close enough to the Japan to hail, Commander Maury went aboard the brig. What passed between him and her skipper I had no means of knowing; but soon the Japan passed us a hawser, as there was some slight trouble with the Alar's engines which needed immediate attention. We were taken in tow and no sooner did the Japan start ahead than accident number one occurred. The hawser became entangled in the Japan's screw, jamming it. It took several hours to cut it loose, and when this was accomplished, we proceeded to Ushant, going around it in search of smooth water so that we could transfer our guns from the tug to the cruiser that was to be. We dropped anchor after dark in a little cove and began operations, despite the angry protests of the French coastguards from the shore. Judging from their language they must have been furious as well as helpless.

The men we had brought from Whitehaven worked most energetically, and by midnight we had our two twenty-four pounders and the two little ten-pounder Whitworth guns on board, as well as the ammunition and the traverses; but unfortunately the sea was rising all the time, and the little tug alongside was pitching and rolling so much that it was too dangerous to attempt to get the biggest gun, a thirty-two pounder Blakeley rifle, out of her. So we got under way again and proceeded to the mainland, not many miles from Brest, a great naval station where we knew a French fleet was assembled. Working like beavers, and protected by a headland there, we finally succeeded, and then stood out to sea where, after we had got safely beyond the three-mile limit, we stopped. Commander Maury then called all hands to the mast and read his orders, hoisted the Confederate flag and his pennant, and declared the Confederate States cruiser Georgia to be in commission.

His remarks were received with three lusty cheers. He next asked the men who were going with us to step forward and enlist for three years or the war; but alas! a sea-lawyer had been at work and not a man came forward. The spokesman demanded higher wages on account of the dangers of the service, and when told that the Georgia was a man-of-war and the pay was fixed by law, every man-jack of them went over the side and boarded the tug. To our surprise nine of the crew of the late merchantman Japan now stepped foward and said they would like to go with us - an offer which was instantly accepted. With these men as a nucleus for a crew, we cast off the Alar's line and never saw or heard of her or the men on board of her again. We afterwards learned that our presence at Ushant and on the coast of France had been signaled to Brest, and that a fast frigate had been sent in all haste to capture us for our breach of French neutrality.

It was April 9, 1863, when this little friendless ship of only about five hundred and fifty tons started on her long and hazardous cruise. She was as unfitted for the work as a vessel could conceivably be: she lay very low in the water and was very long for her beam; her engines were gear engines, - that is, a large wheel fitted with lignumvitæ cogs turned the iron cogs on the shaft, - and frequently the wooden cogs would break. When they did, it was almost as if a shrapnel shell had burst in the engine-room, as they flew in every direction, endangering the lives of every one within reach. Her sail-power was insufficient, and, owing to her length, it was impossible to put her about under canvas. She was slow under either sail or steam, or both together. Such was the little craft which we got slowly under way, bound we knew not where, Ushant Island bearing east-southeast, four and a half miles distant.

The morning of the tenth of April dawned fair, with light breezes and a comparatively smooth sea, and officers and men set to work fastening to the deck iron traverses for our pivot gun. Then came a most difficult job, shorthanded as we were - that of mounting the guns on their carriages; and to add to our troubles, the sea commenced to rise. With all the most intricate and ingenious tackles our seamanlike first lieutenant could devise, it was a tremendous strain on us, as the heavy gun swung back and forth with the roll of the ship. However, by almost superhuman exertion we succeeded in getting the guns into their places on the carriage; then we felt very man-of-warish indeed. 'Dampirates,' the Yankees always used to call us, though we never accepted the compliment.

Day after day, with a pleasant breeze, we steered a course somewhat west of south, meeting but few ships, and those we saw displayed neutral colors when we showed them the British or American ensign. During the whole cruise we saw our Confederate flag only when we were in the act of making a capture or when we were in port. Usually, we showed strange sails the Stars and Stripes. On April 25, there being several vessels in sight, we got up steam and made chase after them. The merchantmen we approached one after the other showed us neutral colors until we were becoming disheartened, when suddenly, about four o'clock in the afternoon, we descried on the horizon a big full-rigged ship with long skysail poles - the sure sign of the Yankee. She appeared unwilling to take any chances with us and cracked on more sail, while we pursued her under steam. A little after five o'clock we hauled down the British colors, hoisted the Confederate flag, and sent a shot bounding over the water just ahead of her, which, in the language of the sea, was an order to 'heave to.' In less time than it takes to tell, the main-yard of the doomed ship swung round and her sails on the main' and mizzenmast were thrown aback, as the American flag was broken out and fluttered from her peak. We immediately lowered a boat and our second lieutenant, Mr. Evans, accompanied by me, rowed over to the prize, which proved to be the splendid ship Dictator, from New York, bound to Hongkong with a cargo of coal. She carried no passengers.

After looking over the ship's papers, we made her crew lower their own boats and forced the captain, his three mates, and the crew of twenty-seven men to get into them with their personal belongings. We then ordered them to pull for the Georgia, which they did with no enthusiasm whatever. On arriving alongside the cruiser, they were allowed to come over the side only one at a time, and were then hurried below and placed in irons. It was not considered advisable to give them time enough to see how weak our force was. The captain was invited by our commander to share the cabin with him, and the first mate was confined in my room, but neither of them had any restraint put on him, except that they were not allowed to go forward of the mainmast, or to hold any communication with their men. On board the Dictator we found a fine assortment of provisions, and sent several boat-loads to our own ship. This was necessary, as we had now to feed the prize's crew as well as our own.

The Georgia lay near the Dictator all night, and in the morning we attempted to replenish our coal-bunkers from her; however, the rising sea made this impossible, and after coming very near swamping our small boats, we gave it up. It seemed hard that we should, have to go without the fuel so precious to' us, while several thousand tons of the very best were within a few cables' length of our vessel. However, it might as well have been in the mines of Pennsylvania, whence it came, for all the good it was to us.

Finally, the Georgia made signal to burn the prize, and Lieutenant Evans asked me if I would like to try my hand at setting her on fire. There were quantities of broken provision boxes lying about the deck, which I gathered and placed against her bulwarks; then I lighted a match and applied it. The kindling-wood buned beautifully, but when its flames expired there was not a sign of fire on the side of the ship. I was surprised and puzzled, and turned to seek an explanation from my superior officer, who was standing nearby, laughing heartily. He told me not to mind; he would show me how it was done (He had had previous experience in the gentle art when a lieutenant with Captain Semmes on the Sumter.) I followed him into the cabin, where he pulled out several drawers from under the captain's berth, and, filling them with old newspapers, he applied a match. The effect was almost instantaneous. Flames leaped up and caught the chintz curtains of the berth and the bedclothes, at the same time setting fire to the light woodwork. The sight fascinated me; I stood watching it as though I were dazed, when suddenly I heard the lieutenant's voice call excitedly, 'Run, youngster, run, or we shall be cut off from the door!' We rushed out, followed by a dense smoke and leaping flames, reached the gangway just ahead of them, and hastily went over the side, down the ladder, and into our boat, which was waiting for us. By the time we reached the Georgia, the prize was one seething mass of flames, from her hold to her trucks. It was a strange and weird sight to see the flames leaping up her tarred rigging, while dense volumes of smoke, lighted by fire from the blazing cargo below, rolled up through her hatches.

The Dictator, exclusive of her cargo was valued at eighty-six thousand dollars. By decree of the Confederate government we were to receive one half of the value of every ship destroyed, and the full amount of the bonds given by vessels carrying neutral cargo. Under the law regulating the distribution of prize-money, the total amount was divided into twentieths, of which the commanding officer got two and the steerage officers got the same, the rest being shared by the wardroom officers and the crew. As I was the only midshipman or steerage officer on board of the Georgia for most of the cruise, the amount of prize-money (still due me) I should have received would almost have equaled the share of the captain.

When we parted company with the burning Dictator, we had hardly got well under way when the always exciting 'Sail ho!' was heard coming from the masthead look-out, followed by the officer of the deck's query, 'Where away?' and the answer, 'Two points off the port bow, sir!' Away we dashed in pursuit, only to be disappointed again and again when the chase showed neutral colors. If we had any cause to suspect that they were not what their colors represented them to be, we boarded them and examined their papers. Strange sail were plentiful, but no American craft among them.

One day we chased a paddle-wheel bark-rigged steamer; it seemed rather strange that we should overhaul her so rapidly, but when we got near her, we discovered that her engines were disconnected, and that her paddles were being turned from her momentum through the water. As we approached, with the British flag flying proudly at our peak, we made a second and more disconcerting discovery: she was a man-of-war! Out came her ensign, the 'Union Jack'; in a twinkling, that British flag came down from our peak, and was replaced by that of the Confederacy. The Englishman then dipped his colors to us - a courtesy which we very much appreciated and which we returned with great satisfaction, as it was the first salute of any kind we had received.

On the 29th of April, at about three bells in the forenoon watch, we found ourselves near the island of San Antonio, one of the Cape Verdes. With all sail set, we bowled along before a stiff northeast breeze, which soon brought us in between San Antonio and the island of St. Vincent, where the highland on either beam acted as a promontory, and there before our eyes we saw the town and harbor of Porto Grande. There also we saw a sloop-of-war peacefully lying at her anchor, with the Stars and Stripes fluttering from her peak! Instantly, everybody on our ship was in a state of excitement and commotion. The officer of the deck gave the order 'Hard-aport!' quickly followed by a rapid succession of orders through the speaking-trumpet. Officers and men rushed aloft, and, working like Trojans, soon had her under bare poles. Four bells were rung for full speed ahead, and the little ship gallantly breasted the high sea in the face of the half gale of wind; but neither patent log nor the old-fashioned chip-and-line could be persuaded to show more than four-knots speed.

Commander Maury was evidently very anxious, and sent for the English chief engineer and asked him if that was the best he could do. The chief said he thought it was. Then the commander told him that, if the American man-of-war was the Mohican, as he thought she was, he had served on board her and she could make seven knots easily against that sea and wind. You know,' he added significantly, that being caught means hanging for us, according to Mr. Lincoln's proclamation!'

The chief disappered below and in a few minutes our improvement in speed was remarkable. We were gratified, as well as surprised, when we found that we were not being pursued. We afterwards learned that the sloop-of-war, not expecting a visit from us at such an unconventional hour, had let her steam go down and could not get under way until she got it up again. We ran around the island, and finding a cove, dropped anchor there, sending a lieutenant ashore to climb the promontory, from which lofty point of vantage, with the aid of his marine glasses, he plainly saw our would-be captor steaming out to sea in the opposite direction from our snug hiding-place. If she had sighted us, it is easy to imagine what would have happened, as she carried ten guns - all of which were much heavier than our biggest piece of ordnance - and the little Georgia had more than twice as many prisoners on board of her as she had crew. In fact our crew would not have been sufficient in numbers to handle and serve our forward pivot gun.

When night came, we weighed anchor and put to sea, and the next morning were busily engaged chasing and examining ships. Sometimes we would 'bring to' an American, then be disappointed because he had changed his flag, and his papers as a neutral would be all correct. Most neutral vessels feared us, and as soon as they suspected our character, would attempt to escape, thus causing us much unnecessary burning of coal. Few of them appeared to be friendly to us, and, when asked for news, seemed delighted when they had the courage to tell us some rigmarole about great disasters to the Confederate armies which they invented for the occasion. Some few gave us newspapers, and kindly told us the truth as to what had happened before they left some port in the world from which we were excluded.

It was a fortunate thing for us that we had not been able to land our prisoners on the Cape Verde islands, as we had intended to do. We had treated these unfortunates kindly; they received the same rations our own men did, and one half of them were released from their irons and allowed to roam around the deck in the day-time. They must have become attached to us, for first one man and then another asked to be permitted to talk to our first lieutenant, and when this was granted, would request to be allowed to ship aboard. To our surprise the second and third mates and twenty-seven seamen joined us, and afterwards proved to be among the very best men we had.

The captain of the Dictator had shared Commodore Maury's cabin and seemed a very nice man; the first mate, however, was of a very different type. He was quartered in my stateroom, while I had to sleep in a hammock slung out in the steerage. He took his meals with me and was allowed to take his exercise on the poopdeck. Of course neither he nor the captain was subjected to the inconvenience of having irons put on them; but Mr. Snow, the first mate, repaid our consideration by writing the story of his capture and 'inhuman' treatment by the 'pirates' on board the 'Georgia.' He placed this romance in a bottle which he corked tightly and sealed with sealing-wax, which he borrowed from me; then he threw it out of the air-port in hopes that it would drift ashore. It did. Years after the war was over, it was picked up on the coast of Norway, and its lying contents were published to the world.

1 William L. Maury, cousin of the famous Commodore Matthew F. Maury, so often mentioned in preceding pages. - The Editors.

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