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x
1. For any number r, let m(r) be the slope of the graph of the function y (2.3) at the point
x = r. Estimate m(4) to 2 decimal places.
Ans: 23.31
difficulty: medium section: 2.1

1/ 3
2. If x (V ) V is the length of the side of a cube in terms of its volume, V, calculate the

average rate of change of x with respect to V over the interval 3 V 4 to 2 decimal

places.
Ans: 0.15
difficulty: easy section: 2.1

1/ 3
3. The length, x, of the side of a cube with volume V is given by x (V ) V . Is the
average rate of change of x with respect to V increasing or decreasing as the volume
V decreases?
Ans: increasing
difficulty: medium section: 2.1
Page 1
 Chapter 2: Key Concept: The Derivative

4. If the graph of y = f(x) is shown below, arrange the following in ascending order with 1
representing the smallest value and 6 the largest.

A. f '( A) B. f '( B) C. f '(C) D. slope of AB

E. 1 F. 0

Part A: 6
Part B: 3
Part C: 2
Part D: 4
Part E: 5
Part F: 1
difficulty: medium section: 2.1

5. The height of an object in feet above the ground is given in the following
table. Compute the average velocity over the interval 1 t 3.

t (sec) 0 1 2 3 4 5 6
y (feet) 10 45 70 85 90 85 70

Ans: 20
difficulty: easy section: 2.1

Page 2
 Chapter 2: Key Concept: The Derivative

6. The height of an object in feet above the ground is given in the following table. If
heights of the object are cut in half, how does the average velocity change, over a
given interval?

t (sec) 0 1 2 3 4 5 6
y (feet) 10 45 70 85 90 85 70

A) It is cut in half. C) It remains the same.

B) It is doubled. D) It depends on the interval.
Ans: A difficulty: medium section: 2.1

7. The height of an object in feet above the ground is given in the following table, y f (t ) .
Make a graph of f (t ) . On your graph , what does the average velocity over a the

interval 0 t 3 represent?

t (sec) 0 1 2 3 4 5 6
y (feet) 10 45 70 85 90 85 70

A) The average height between f(0) and f(3).

B) The slope of the line between the points (0, f(0)), and (3, f(3)).
C) The average of the slopes of the tangent lines to the points (0, f(0)), and (3, f(3)).
D) The distance between the points (0, f(0)), and (3, f(3)).
Ans: B difficulty: medium section: 2.1

Page 3
 Chapter 2: Key Concept: The Derivative

8. The graph of p(t), in the following figure, gives the position of a particle p at time t. List
the following quantities in order, smallest to largest with 1 representing the smallest
value.

A. Average velocity on 1 t 3.

B. Instantaneous velocity at t = 1.

C. Instantaneous velocity at t = 3.

Part A: 2
Part B: 3
Part C: 1
difficulty: medium section: 2.1

2
9. Estimate lim (6 h) 36 to 2 decimal places by substituting smaller and smaller
h 0 h
values of h.
Ans: 12
difficulty: easy section: 2.1

sin( h2 )
10. Estimate lim to 2 decimal places by substituting smaller and smaller
values of h

h 0 h
(use radians).
Ans: 0
difficulty: easy section: 2.1

Page 4
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deepened. These edges were of very sharp and ragged coral, descending
so rapidly as scarcely to allow room to lay an anchor on.
The reef was about one mile and a quarter in length from north to
south, and perhaps one hundred and fifty yards in breadth from east to
west, and in the form of a crescent. Its concave side to the eastward was
that on which we lay, nearly in the centre, with our bow pointing directly
over the reef. Under our jib-boom there was but five feet of water; under
the stern eleven feet; under the fore chains fifteen feet on the port side
and thirty feet on the starboard side, and under the main chains four
fathoms on one side and eight fathoms on the other.
Returning and reporting these facts, Captain Arthur had all our boats
hoisted out and a kedge anchor laid under the port quarter in deep water,
and a hawser attached to it and taken to the capstan and hove taut. The
stream anchor was next laid on the starboard bow and its cable hove taut.
All three boats were manned and attached to a tow-line from the
bowsprit end. The jib, spanker, and staysails were loosed ready for
hoisting.
By eleven o’clock the wind veered to the southwest and became
squally, the tide began to flow and the swell to heave. At 11.30 the ship
began to move, but just then the hawser parted. Captain Arthur
immediately ordered the boats to pull away about forty-five degrees abaft
the starboard beam; the breeze freshened and gave a greater impulse to
the strain of the stream cable, and, to our delight, the ship launched off
and got sternway, which, the boats assisting, swung her around on her
heel with her head to the northward.
“Cut away the stream cable, Mr. Kelson!” shouted the captain, half
wild with excitement.
The ship swung so as to bring the wind on the starboard quarter.
“Hoist away on the spanker, put the helm down!” She came to on the
starboard tack. “Hoist away jib, main and main-topgallant staysails! Be
lively, sir!”
Every one bent to the work with a hearty good-will; the good ship
gathered headway; the boats came alongside.
“Aloft, men, and loose topsails and courses!” called out the captain.
The topsails were mastheaded, and the courses set as rapidly as
possible, and we just shaved the reef, not more than five feet from its
knife-like edge. Had we struck broadside on, it would have been the last
of the ship, and, for the matter of that, of us also.
 Thank God! we were clear of the reef, losing in the effort our stream
and kedge anchors and a couple of hawsers, which we gladly
relinquished in our joy at this narrow escape from wreck.
We steered N. N. W. between two other long reefs, which broke white
as we passed them, and at last emerged to clear water, and again shaped
our course for the straits. A week later, we anchored at the mouth of the
Pasig in the beautiful Bay of Manila.
The city of Manila, on the island of Luzon, is the capital of the
Philippine Islands, one of the most highly cherished of the Spanish
possessions. It is the residence of the viceroy, who, at this great distance
from home, is in everything but name a reigning monarch, and, indeed,
supports almost as much state as his royal master in Madrid.
The bay is superb, almost as fine as that of Rio de Janeiro, and the city
itself is much more curious and interesting to the traveler than Rio. The
River Pasig divides the city, one portion, which is walled, being devoted
almost exclusively to the palaces of the viceroy and the archbishop, the
Hall of Audience, the military barracks, and innumerable churches and
convents. Outside of the walls, along the shore of the bay, is the beautiful
drive, the Calzada, where all the fashionable world drive in the cool of
the evening, while the bands play choice selections of operatic music.
On the other side of the river is the residential quarter and the shops.
The population was then about one hundred and fifty thousand, of which
more than three quarters were natives, the ruling class and the aristocracy
being of Spanish birth.
One of the many sights in Manila was the enormous government
cheroot factory, where nearly twenty thousand people, mostly women,
are employed.
We loaded here with hemp and sugar, which we carried home to
Boston by the way of the Cape of Good Hope, having an uneventful
passage of one hundred and sixty-five days to Boston Light.
 CHAPTER VII
RECAPTURING A RUNAWAY

I not long remain as second mate, for the very next voyage the
chief mate was lost overboard one morning from the top of the poop-
house. The watch were about to set the spanker, and Mr. Brown, who had
the watch, was standing very imprudently to leeward of the boom, when
the last turns of the gasket were thrown off and the gaff flying over
struck him in the head with great violence and knocked him over the
quarter-rail.
The ship was at once hove to, and a boat was lowered, but nothing was
seen of him, and the supposition was that he was stunned by the blow
and sunk at once, to rise no more.
So I was promoted to his place; and although full young to assume the
responsibilities attendant upon the position, I managed to satisfy the
captain so well that when we arrived in port I was confirmed in the place.
About a year later I was sent for to go as chief mate in the Laodicea,
another ship belonging to the same firm. In this vessel I made a voyage
to the East Indies.
Early in 1848, while in New York, I received a letter from the owners
requesting me to come on to Boston and take command of the Mystic, a
fine new ship of nearly one thousand tons, lately launched at East Boston
and fitting out for a voyage to Valparaiso.
So my cousin, the owner, had fulfilled his promise, and before I was
twenty-one years of age I was to have command of a fine half-clipper
ship. I wasted no time, but went on to Boston as speedily as possible,
where I found my ship at Commercial Wharf and work already
commenced on her lading.
I at once assumed the command; and as the owners were very anxious
to get the ship to sea in the shortest time possible, I pushed things to the
extent of my ability and secured as officers a Mr. King, whom I had
known for several years as an experienced and thoroughly trustworthy
man, as chief mate, and a Mr. Robinson, whom I did not know
personally, but who brought me such excellent recommendations that I
engaged him on the strength of them, as second mate. That I did not
more closely examine into the character of this man was a very
unfortunate oversight, as it afterward proved.
In due time our cargo was all in, and in addition, seventy thousand
dollars in Spanish dollars, packed in kegs, came on board, which was to
be used on owner’s account for the purchase of a cargo of copper at
Coquimbo. These kegs were stowed away under the immediate direction
of Mr. Robinson, who was in charge of the work, well down in the after
run.
As one of the frequent South American revolutions was then in
progress in Chili, my orders from the owners were that if I could not get
a cargo of copper I should go over to China and report to Russell &
Sturgis, who would invest my silver in a cargo of tea for Boston.
On the 5th of December we were ready for sea; and after clearing at
the Custom House and receiving my last orders from my owners, I went
on board and proceeded to sea.
Our run down to Cape Horn was prosperous and very uneventful, and
we had remarkably fine weather. After passing through the Straits of Le
Mar, however, we fell into a heavy gale from the westward, and for
several days laid to under close sail. By the third day of the gale the sea
was running heavily. That day just before noon the clouds lifted, and Mr.
King sent a boy into the cabin to tell me that he thought there would be
an opportunity to get a meridian altitude.
As we had not been able to get an observation for several days, I
hurried on deck with my sextant. Just as I had braced myself against the
port rail, the man at the wheel carelessly let the ship yaw, and a great
wave that must have weighed tons came aboard, smashing the starboard
quarter boat to flinders, dashing in the cabin skylight, and sweeping the
decks in a terrible manner.
By great good fortune I had taken a turn of a rope about my waist to
steady me for getting a sight; and by clinging on with both hands I
managed to retain my position, but Mr. King, who was quite near me,
was washed away and thrown with fearful violence across the deck and
into the lee scuppers.
Fortunately no one was washed overboard, but on investigation we
found that poor Mr. King was seriously injured. Two of his ribs were
broken, and it was evident that he had also received some severe internal
injuries, the extent of which I could not then determine.
He was carefully taken below to his stateroom, and I did all I could to
relieve his sufferings, which were very great. That night the wind veered
and moderated, and we made sail and were soon in the waters of the
Pacific, standing to the westward with favoring winds and smooth seas.
On the 2d of March, at 9 A. M., we made the Point of Angels, and,
bearing up for the entrance to the Bay of Valparaiso, stood in and
anchored close to the lower batteries. I at once went on shore and
reported to the Aduaña, and then made arrangements to have Mr. King
sent to the hospital.
Going on board again, I told him what I had done and assured him that
it would be necessary to have such careful medical and surgical attention
as he could receive only in a hospital.
“I am perfectly aware of that, Captain Kelson,” said he. “I know that I
can’t stay here on board, and I doubt if I shall ever be much more use as
an officer of a ship; but there is one thing I must do before I leave the
ship, and that is to warn you against putting too much trust in Mr.
Robinson!”
“Why, Mr. King! what is the matter with him? He is a good sailor, and
he appears to carry on the duty very well!”
“Oh yes, sir, he is a good sailor-man; no one can deny that; but I don’t
trust him. He has too much palaver with the men. I am sure there is
something wrong about him. What it is, unfortunately, I don’t know; I
wish I did. But you are a younger man than I am, captain, and more
confiding in your nature. Now I beg of you not to put too much
confidence in Mr. Robinson!”
I thought it quite possible that this was merely prejudice on the part of
my mate, increased by his anxiety at leaving the ship, so to ease his mind
I said: “Oh, well, Mr. King, I will keep my eye on him, and I shall hope
that you will soon be able to return to duty again. Now keep yourself
perfectly quiet and get well as quickly as possible.”
After sending my mate on shore, I made Mr. Robinson, who seemed to
be doing very well, chief mate temporarily, and put one of my best men
in charge of the second mate’s watch. Engaging lighters, I then
commenced discharging my cargo, which, as the goods I had happened
to be in demand, sold rapidly and to excellent advantage. But when it
came to arranging for my cargo of copper, I found that it would be
necessary for me to make a visit to the capital, Santiago, to confer with
the authorities in regard to a permit for export.
Accordingly I made arrangements with my consignees in Valparaiso to
keep an oversight on my ship; and after leaving very strict orders with
Mr. Robinson in regard to the care of the vessel, I started on horseback
for Santiago.
With the positive genius for delay that characterizes Spanish American
officials, I was detained at the capital for several weeks, badgered about
from one department to another; but at last I succeeded in obtaining the
desired permit, and returned to Valparaiso.
As I dismounted from my horse in the courtyard of my hotel, I met my
good friend Don José Altimara. “Ah!” said he, “I am glad that you have
returned. All your goods are sold and well sold. Have you obtained your
permit to export copper?”
I told him of my various trials and final success.
“That is well. But tell me, why have you sent your ship away so
suddenly? I fear you will have trouble with the authorities, as you had no
clearance papers.”
“What do you mean? The Mystic sailed!”
“I mean,” said Don José, “that the Mystic left this port a week ago at
night, and with no notice given at the Aduaña.”
I did not stop for another word, but hurried to the mole to convince
myself that my friend was mistaken, as I was sure he must be. Eagerly I
scanned the bay, searching for my ship, but she was not there! She was
gone; of that there was no manner of doubt. But where could she have
gone? and why should Mr. Robinson have taken such a strange course?
Beyond the slight suspicion created by the vague impressions of Mr.
King, I had found no reason for doubting the probity of this officer. But I
was soon to be enlightened; for as I stood gazing out over the bay, a
rough-looking fellow dressed like a sailor, with a half-healed scar
running transversely across his face, that looked like the mark of a recent
knife wound, touched me on the shoulder to rouse me from my reverie,
and said, “Is this Captain Kelson?”
“Yes, my man,” I replied; “what do you want of me?”
“Well, sir,” said he, with a half sneer, “I think it’s more than likely you
will want something of me!”
“What should I want of you, then?”
“Don’t you want to find your ship?”
“Why, what do you know about her?”
“Well, captain, I know all about her, and I am ready to tell you the
whole story; and what is more, I’ll help you to find her.”
“I will pay you well for it, my lad, if you can indeed do so,” I replied
eagerly.
 “Well, I don’t object to that, but I shall do it, not so much for love of
you or your money, as to get even with Jack Robinson for the dirty trick
he played me!”
“Jack Robinson! Do you know Mr. Robinson?”
“Aye do I! We were shipmates together in the old Palmetto, of Boston,
three years ago. He didn’t have a handle to his name then. We were both
in the forecastle. You never heard of the Palmetto getting into port, did
you, captain?”
“No; it was supposed that she was lost off Cape Horn, with all hands;
she was never heard from.”
“No; and she never will be. When I have helped you to find the Mystic
and have got square with Jack Robinson, perhaps I may tell you what
became of the Palmetto.”
“Well, never mind about her; what can you tell me about my own
ship?”
“I’ll tell you, sir, if you will give me time. Three weeks ago Jack met
me here ashore. I had been beach-combing for six months and I was dead
broke. Jack was flush and paid for the aguardiente like a man. One day
he said, ‘Look here, Charlie, I’ve got a devilish sight better lay here than
we had with the old Palmetto, and an easier job; do you want to go in
with me?’ Naturally I was ready for anything that promised well; and
when Jack took me on board ship, showed me those kegs down in the
after run, and told me they were all full of silver dollars, I was red hot to
get hold of them and ready for anything!”
“You are frank, at any rate.”
The fellow laughed and continued: “Jack told me his plan. It was
simple enough. He wanted me to pick up half a dozen reckless fellows
like myself, who could be depended upon, and who would join us for a
fair price. Then, on the first dark night, we would slip the cable, put to
sea, and carry the Mystic to an island we both know of, that has water
and cocoanuts but no inhabitants,—well, if you must know, the same
place where we laid the old Palmetto’s bones,—and then get rid of the
rest of the crew, according to a clever plan he had, and divide the spoil
between us two!”
“And how comes it, then, that you are here and the ship gone?”
“That is the deviltry that I am coming to. A week ago yesterday we
had everything ready. I had sent aboard half a dozen fellows who were
ready for anything that would put a handful of doubloons in their
pockets. Jack told the old crew that you had ordered these men shipped
to help in loading copper at Coquimbo, and they were pleased at the
prospect of more help in the work. Jack and I were ashore for the last
time, waiting for night to come, so that we could cut the cable and run.
We had both taken our share of grog, but Jack had taken a deal less than
I. That I had noticed, and it ought to have made me suspicious. At eleven
o’clock we started from the pulqueria for the beach; but as I turned the
first corner, Jack dropped a bit behind, and at the same moment I felt his
knife running in between my ribs, and as I turned he gave me this slash
over the head, and I fell in the street with a shout of ‘Murder!’
“The patrol came along and Jack scuttled off! Well, sir, I was carried
to the hospital, where I have been ever since, and I had a narrow squeak
for it; but I pulled through at last, and now I am ready to pilot you to
Amatavi Island, as soon as you can get something to go in, to hunt up
your ship!”
The fellow’s story carried conviction in the telling; it was verified by
the police, so far as they were concerned, and by old Francisco, in whose
pulqueria all the nefarious business had been planned.
My good friend Altimara, to whom I went with the strange tale, was
now of the greatest assistance in various ways. He found, at my
suggestion, a fast-sailing schooner with a good armament, that had lately
returned to Valparaiso from a smuggling voyage up the coast. She could
be chartered just as she was, manned and all ready for sea, excepting her
stores.
I made the round of my customers; and after stating my desperate
case, they at once settled their various bills for the goods they had
purchased, paying me in silver, in all nearly sixty thousand dollars. I then
laid in a sufficient supply of stores for a voyage of four months; and
obtaining the necessary papers for my vessel from the government
officials, who were all very sympathetic, I took Charlie on board as pilot,
and sailed from Valparaiso with a fair wind, on the 6th of May, in search
of my runaway ship.
I found my schooner all that I could have wished: she was very fast
and easily handled; and the crew, which was largely made up of runaway
men-of-war’s men, were familiar with the use of the great guns and well
drilled in small arms.
I explained to them the object of our voyage and what I hoped and
expected to accomplish, and assured them that if we succeeded in
overhauling and capturing the Mystic, they should receive one hundred
dollars each as prize money, in addition to their wages. But I told them at
the same time that very possibly we might have a sharp fight, for I knew
Mr. Robinson was a desperate man and had everything at stake.
The men cheered at the end of my speech, and promised to go
wherever I led them, and I saw that they meant what they said.
From the description Charlie gave of the island where he said
Robinson had intended taking the Mystic, I found that it laid in latitude
2° 21′ S., longitude 146° 04′ E., and that it was doubtless one of the
Admiralty Islands, which were little known to navigators at that time.
We made an excellent run, and at noon on June 30 I found by a good
observation that we were probably about forty miles to the southward of
the island we were seeking; and as we were then making about seven
knots an hour, I felt sure we should sight the land before night. The
excitement of the chase and the preparation for a possible fight had thus
far kept me up, but now that I was so soon to know the result of this
attempt I was making to recover the property of my owners, and should
either reinstate myself in their good opinion or return to Boston a ruined
man, I acknowledge for the first time my courage almost failed me.
What if, after all, I should be on the wrong track! This fellow might
have deceived me, or, in his turn, might have been deceived by that
craftier villain, my former mate! However, I should soon know the worst
—or the best!
By three o’clock we raised the land bearing N. 31° W., a cluster of
low, flat, woody islands. By four o’clock a large, high island bore N. 18°
W., its outline forming a hollow like a saddle. It appeared to be
surrounded with smaller islands on the south and west sides. At the same
time an extensive reef was observed stretching to the southward.
I decided to haul to windward of the south-eastern islet then in sight,
and, by Charlie’s advice, to pass between it and the next island to the
northwest, which he recognized, and where the channel was to all
appearances, perfectly clear and about four or five miles wide.
At 6 P. M. I anchored in six fathoms of water about two miles from the
land, as I did not dare to run in the midst of these reefs at night. As soon
as the men had eaten their supper, I ordered three boats cleared away and
armed, and with muffled oars we all started from the schooner, my boat,
with Charlie as pilot, ahead.
The moon did not rise until late, but there was sufficient light for us to
make our way, and, after four hours’ steady work at the oars, we gained
the entrance to a little land-locked bay at the head of the channel between
the two easternmost islands.
 Here we laid on our oars until about three o’clock in the morning, and
then pulled in shore. As we opened up the entrance to the bay I almost
set up a shout of joy; for there, swinging quietly at her anchor, a cable’s
length from shore, was my old ship!
I gathered my three boats together and asked my men if they would
stand by me in an attempt to board the ship. They assured me of their
readiness, and seemed to look upon the whole affair as a good joke.
I warned them not to fire a shot until we were fairly on board, and then
to trust mainly to their cutlasses; for I felt sure we could surprise the ship
at this early hour when the crew would be in their deepest sleep, and I
knew if we once succeeded in getting on board, we could carry her.
I divided the boats, giving them orders to pull one for the bow, one for
the starboard quarter, while I would board on the port side amidships,
thus taking them in flank if there should be any resistance. We then
pulled quietly into the little bay, and as the tide was running flood,
quickly approached the ship. As I had anticipated, there was no lookout
kept, as they evidently fancied themselves entirely safe from an attack by
sea and the island was uninhabited.
We all kept in range until quite near, then made a dash alongside, and
most of us had actually gained the deck before any alarm was given.
Then it was too late for any organized resistance. I shot the first man who
came up the fore hatch. Charlie cut down another as he appeared from
the cabin companionway, and we then clapped the hatch bar on the fore
scuttle, and, after closing the companionway, we had the whole party fast
as rats in a trap.
In the first moments of exultation that followed our victory I thought
our work was practically accomplished, but I soon learned that although I
had scotched the snake I had not yet killed him. For as I came aft from
seeing the forward hatch barred down, I was saluted by a well-aimed
musket shot that passed through my hat and grazed my scalp, while at the
same time another shot from the same quarter struck poor Charlie full in
the chest, bringing him to the deck with a mortal wound.
“Jack Robinson has made a sure thing of it with me this time, captain.
I saw him as he fired from the skylight,” whispered the poor fellow, as I
kneeled down by his side. “But I have got even with him, Cap., and I
brought you here as I promised you I would!”
But the bullets were flying too thick to spend much time with a dying
man, so I drew him forward out of range of the skylight, from which they
were keeping up a fusillade. As the magazine was in the after-cabin the
pirates, for such of course they were, had the command of an unlimited
supply of ammunition and plenty of arms, and were in a very difficult
position to dislodge.
To add to our annoyance they opened fire on our boats from the ship’s
stern windows. Indeed, it seemed to be a veritable case of capturing a
Tartar, and for a time I was rather nonplussed as to the manner in which I
should reap the fruit of my incomplete victory.
The first thing to do was evidently to protect ourselves from this
galling fire from the cabin skylight. So I stationed two men in the mizzen
rigging with orders to fire down the skylight at any one they could see,
and I then sent two other men aloft; and after cutting the spanker adrift
we let the peak and throat halyards go by the run, and the heavy sail
tumbled down on the skylight, very effectually shutting the occupants of
the cabin out from a sight of the deck.
By this time the men who were barred down in the forecastle were
pleading to be released, shouting out that they surrendered. So we
opened one side of the hatch and allowed them to come out, one at a
time, slipping handcuffs on each man as he appeared.
By the time this had been accomplished the sun had risen, and we felt
the need of some breakfast after our all-night work. The cook was one of
those who came up from the forecastle; and when he found that his old
captain was once again in command of the ship, he was loud in his
expressions of delight. Mr. Robinson, as he said, had led him and the
members of the old crew a dog’s life since he had run away with the ship,
and moreover they had a well-grounded belief that he purposed dealing
foully with them now that he had got the ship safe in this unknown bay.
The cook bustled about and soon had a savory breakfast ready for us
of fresh fish, of which they had caught an abundance in the bay, with hot
coffee and ship bread, which we thoroughly enjoyed.
I went with a pot of coffee to poor Charlie, thinking he might perhaps
take some; but he was already dead, and I covered him up with a boat
sail and left him at rest.
After breakfast I sent the cook below as a messenger to Mr. Robinson,
offering terms for his surrender. The fellow was intrenched in such a way
as to be able to cause us great annoyance, so I agreed to give him the
ship’s cutter, with her sails and oars, and provisions for himself and the
Valparaiso men. I also offered to land him and these men on the island
unharmed. He was to take no arms with him, but I agreed to leave a
couple of muskets and some ammunition on the reef at the entrance of
the harbor, where he could get them after our departure.
At first he was disinclined to accept these terms and blustered a great
deal, threatening to blow up the ship, with all of us on board, unless I
made a more liberal offer; but I was firm and gave him to understand that
I did not fear his threats and that all the old crew had already surrendered
at discretion. This last news settled the matter, and he consented to my
terms.
I then addressed my old crew and gave them their choice, either to
remain in the ship or to go on shore with the mate. They at once, to a
man, decided to stay by the ship, assuring me that they would be only too
glad to be rid of Mr. Robinson and his Valparaiso beach-combers, who
had tyrannized over them completely.
That afternoon, after giving poor Charlie a sailor’s burial, I got the
schooner into the bay and alongside the Mystic, and transferred the
specie from her hold to my ship’s run, where it was placed by the side of
the other treasure, which had not yet been tampered with.
I then settled the charges for the schooner, paid the men I had hired
their prize money, and, after thanking them for their brave support, we
parted company, the schooner standing to the southward for the coast of
Chili, while I laid my course in the Mystic N. N. W. for Hongkong.
 CHAPTER VIII
CHASED BY PIRATES

W made an excellent run over to China after striking into the

southeast trades, and sixty days after leaving the Admiralty Islands we
anchored off Hongkong.
I at once went on shore and reported to Russell & Sturgis, and learned
that we had arrived in a good time. There were very few ships in port,
teas were low in price and very good in quality, and the consignee said
that he could secure me some very desirable chops at reasonable rates,
and that if we had any room remaining after investing my owner’s silver,
that he could fill me up with cargo, on freight, at remunerative rates.
This was indeed good news, and I proceeded to land my specie, which
the firm at once invested; and after thoroughly cleaning out and
fumigating my hold, a quantity of sampan wood was sent off for
dunnage, and we commenced receiving and storing our cargo of tea.
Soon after my arrival I was visited by Captain Archer, late in
command of the ship Essex, of Salem. Captain Archer had lost his ship a
few months before on a reef while trading among the Fiji Islands, and he
was anxious to obtain a passage home for himself, officers, and crew.
As I was very shorthanded, having lost both my mates, Mr. King and
Mr. Robinson, whose places I had temporarily supplied from my crew, I
was very glad to ship his two officers, and I arranged for his crew to
work their passage home in the Mystic. I had a spare stateroom in the
cabin, which I placed at the disposal of Captain Archer.
He was a veteran shipmaster, and had been in command before I was
born, but he had decided, since his late misfortune in losing his ship, that
this should be his last voyage. He had had many years’ experience in the
Indian Seas, and particularly in the Fijis, where he had traded for bèche
de mer, a marine delicacy which the Chinese esteemed so highly that it
was not infrequently sold for its weight in silver.
The captain was full of stories of Thakombau, the savage chief of Bau,
one of the Fiji group. This chief was a most terrible old cannibal, who,
not satisfied with devouring the enemies captured in his raids on the
neighboring islands, frequently ordered the massacre of his own people,
when he was desirous of having a grand feast, and they were baked and
eaten. “Long pig” he facetiously designated his human sacrifices.
The captain assured me that these dreadful orgies were not, as I had
supposed, religious rites, but were simply for the satisfaction of a
depraved appetite, and that in the gratification of this taste nothing was
sacred.
And yet the captain had succeeded in inspiring a friendship in the
breast of this old savage that had caused him to issue an edict making the
captain strictly taboo, and no native dared to harm him, while the
choicest canoe loads of bèche de mer were brought off to him for trade.
Thakombau actually proposed to make Captain Archer a chief and to
give him the island of Viti for his very own, but the captain declined the
tempting offer.
It must be confessed, however, that this gentle treatment had had its
effect upon the captain, who did not seem to think the cannibal chief was
nearly so much of a brute as he was generally considered by Europeans.
I can scarcely realize that since that time such a marvelous change has
taken place in the condition of the Fijians. The missionaries managed to
gain a foothold in the islands soon after the time of which I am writing,
and now there are Christian churches in every island of the group,
several thousand professing Christians among the natives, absolute safety
for white residents everywhere, and cannibalism is utterly unknown!
While the loading of my ship was progressing, in company with
Captain Archer I made a visit to Canton, which is about one hundred
miles above Hongkong. This was only a couple of years after the siege of
Canton by the Triad rebels, and the breaches that had been made by them
in the wall that surrounded Canton, six miles in extent, had not yet been
repaired.
We passed a week at Russell & Sturgis’s hong, and had a very pleasant
time exploring the curious city under the charge of one of his native
clerks, who took us into many of the labyrinths of the “Old City” not
usually penetrated by the Fanquis, as they called their foreign visitors.
We made many purchases of curios, at prices that would now seem
marvelously low, and returned to Hongkong, at the expiration of our
visit, loaded down with presents for our friends at home.
Our lading was completed and the hatches calked down early in
October, and we sailed on the 10th of the month, in time to take
advantage of the northeast monsoon. We were favored with light winds
from N. N. E. to N. E. after passing the Great Ladrone, and on the 30th
entered Banca Straits, where the wind veered to the southeast and fell
very light.
At night we anchored; and as that part of the Malayan coast in those
days bore an unenviable reputation for pirates, I not only maintained a
regular sea watch, but divided the time with Captain Archer, so that one
of us in turn should be on deck all night. And to this precaution, as it
turned out, we owed our subsequent preservation from a great peril.
Just before daylight Captain Archer came to me, where I was sleeping
on the break of the poop, and aroused me, saying that there were some
suspicious looking sails in sight.
I sprang up, and although it was not yet light I could readily see with
my night glass two proas coming out from under the land a few miles to
the northward.
I at once ordered all hands called, and as the wind had got round
northeast, although still light, I immediately got under weigh and made
all sail. Meanwhile the proas were standing down toward us, and as the
daylight broke it was evident that they were full of men.
The Mystic, as was quite common in those days, carried a couple of
24-pounders, with a fair amount of ammunition, and we had, in addition
to the ship’s muskets, the rifles I had purchased in fitting out the
schooner at Valparaiso, when I started in pursuit of my runaway ship. So
we were unusually well prepared in that direction, and, having Captain
Archer’s crew, we were nearly doubly manned.
Still, so far as force was concerned, we were outnumbered by the
Malays in the proas five to one. For we could see that they fairly
swarmed with men, and it was evident that in a hand-to-hand fight we
should have much the worst of it. It would never do to let them get on
board of us.
“We shall have to fight those devils, Kelson,” said Captain Archer,
“unless the breeze freshens pretty quickly. They are gaining on us hand
over hand; and they are getting out sweeps now, I believe. Yes; by Jove
they are!” he exclaimed, looking through his glass. “It won’t do to let
them get alongside; there are two of them, and they will take us on both
sides and carry us by sheer force of numbers! Hadn’t we better open the
ball?”
“Yes; I think that fellow ahead is already within safe range. You look
out for the ship, and I will try my hand at a shot or two. Now, sir; luff her
up carefully, but don’t get her aback, and I will bring this gun to bear!”
 The old gentleman went aft and took his stand by the wheel. “Put your
helm down, my man; look out, Captain Kelson! Let draw the head
sheets! Meet her with the helm; meet her!”
The Mystic came up in the wind, the head sails flapped; I watched my
chance, got a good sight with the gun, which was loaded with a solid
shot, and pulled the lock-string!
As the smoke blew to leeward I sprang on the rail, and as our ship
payed off and the sails filled, the foremast of the leading proa snapped
off a few feet above the deck and fell overboard with a great crash,
dragging with it the heavy lateen sail!
“Good shot, Kelson!” shouted Captain Archer from the poop; “that
fellow has got his hands full of work and is out of the game for the
present!” And our men set up a hearty cheer at this sudden and
unexpected discomfiture of our adversary.
We supposed that the other proa would heave to and go to the
assistance of her companion, but that evidently was not her intention, for
she passed her without pausing, and with her sweeps out and heavily
manned she bore rapidly down upon us.
I ordered the starboard gun run over on the port side and tried several
shots at the approaching proa, but, although I hit her once, I did not seem
to inflict any very serious damage, so I had both guns loaded with
shrapnel and langridge, and determined to have the fight out at closer
quarters.
Stationing both my officers and the carpenter, who was a splendid
shot, on the quarter-deck with rifles, I ordered them to pick off the men
who seemed to be the leaders, and then waited for the approach of the
proa.
When she had crept up within easy rifle range, I luffed the ship up, as
before, and getting a deliberate aim at the crowded deck, depressed the
guns and fired them at the word, both at once, point blank, reloading and
repeating the dose before the smoke of the first discharge had cleared
away.
The effect of this murderous fire, at such close quarters, upon the
crowd massed upon the proa’s deck was terrific, and the slaughter was
frightful. Yet, by some strange chance, the captain, a tall, vicious-looking
Malay, stripped to the waist and waving a naked kreese to encourage his
followers, had escaped uninjured, and was shouting to his men, to rally
them, with the evident intent of boarding us.
 Captain Archer had meanwhile filled our ship away, but the wind was
light, and before we had fairly gained headway the proa, with sweeps
out, shot under our starboard quarter, and a grapnel thrown from her
caught in our mizzen channels.
The pirate captain at once sprang forward, and, with his kreese in his
mouth, scrambled up our side, followed by a score of his men, and
gained the poop deck of the ship!
Abandoning our battery, we gathered in the waist, and I called to the
carpenter to pick off the Malay captain. He nodded, and, taking a careful
sight, fired, and the Malayan fell dead among his men. Our other
riflemen were meanwhile dropping those of the proa who had followed
their captain.
Just then the wind freshened, and by great good fortune the proa’s
grapnel disengaged itself and she dropped astern.
Calling upon my men, we made a dash upon the few remaining
Malays and fairly drove them overboard. I then put the helm down, and
as we came round on the other tack and gathered headway, I stood down
on the proa, a good wrap full, and striking her fair and square amidships
cut her to the water’s edge.
Our victory was now complete, and as the first proa, having
disentangled herself from the wreck of her foremast, was coming down,
with sweeps out, to rescue the survivors of her consort, I made all sail
and kept on my course, leaving them to their own devices.
The next day we fell in with a Dutch man-of-war brig, lately out from
Batavia. I reported the affair to her, and she made all sail for the straits in
hopes of capturing the pirates, who, if they were caught, would have
received a short shrift, for the Dutch were very active in the suppression
of piracy in those waters.
The 15th of November we passed through the Straits of Sunda and laid
our course to the westward. The wind continued generally from the
southeast, but it was extremely variable, and on the 18th it increased to a
brisk whole sail breeze, attended with showers and occasional squalls.
That night the barometer went down in a most astonishing manner and
the sea rose without any seeming cause, for the wind was not heavy,
while the air was close and the temperature unusually sultry.
“What do you think of it, Captain Archer?” said I, as we both looked
at the barometer in the cabin.
“I think we are about to have some nasty weather. It would not
surprise me if we caught the tail end of a typhoon.”
 “That is exactly my idea, captain, and I hope you won’t laugh at me
when I tell you that I am going to take in sail and prepare for it!”
“Not a bit of it, my dear fellow. An ounce of prevention may be worth
tons of after care. With such a low barometer as that, you are justified in
doing anything for the safety of your ship.”
I went on deck at once. “Mr. Ireson,” said I to the chief mate, “call all
hands, send down all three of those royal yards, and house the masts.
Take in the main-topgallant sail, close-reef the topsails, and put a reef in
both the courses. And don’t waste any time about it, sir. The glass is very
low and still falling, and I believe that we shall have some heavy weather
before morning.”
The mate looked rather surprised at these orders, but he saw that I was
in earnest and proceeded to carry them out. The wind soon commenced
freshening, but with our double crew the work was speedily
accomplished, and by the time that all was snug the wind had chopped
round and came out howling from the southward and eastward. In
consequence of our timely preparation, however, we were ready for it.
The gale continued to increase, and on the third day we hove to under
close-reefed main-topsail and reefed foresail, under which sail the ship
made good weather, although the sea was running very heavily indeed.
Just before midnight the wind suddenly fell, and for a few minutes it
was almost calm. It was intensely dark, the sky was as black as night, not
a star was seen through the dense clouds, and the sails flapped in an
ominous manner.
Then, in a moment, as though all the powers of the wind-god had been
loosed, the gale struck us with infernal force, accompanied with torrents
of rain and the most vivid chain lightning, which played about the ship
till it seemed as though she must be on fire; the thunder pealing like a
park of artillery!
The two sails we had set bellied, and with one flap fairly blew out of
the bolt ropes. For a moment I thought the ship would surely founder, for
she went almost on her beam ends, trembled like a live thing, and then,
relieved by the loss of the sails, slowly recovered herself and came up
again to the wind.
I had been in many severe gales in these latitudes, but I had never
experienced anything like the tremendous power of this wind: the waves
were fairly beaten down, which had been running half mast high after the
three days’ heavy gale.
 With the aid of a dozen men we succeeded with great difficulty in
getting a stout tarpaulin in the weather mizzen rigging, and this was quite
sufficient to keep the ship’s head to the wind.
One by one every sail in the ship was blown from the yards, although
they were furled, and, in some cases, storm-furled with extra gaskets. But
the wind seemed to cut like a knife, and we could see by the lightning
flashes the long ribbons of canvas streaming out and then disappearing to
leeward. Had I not seen this I would not have believed it possible.
All of us, officers and men, were lashed to the weather rail, absolutely
helpless, so far as our own exertions were concerned, and utterly unable
to communicate with each other, as no trumpet could be heard above this
wild discord of the winds and waves. No man dared leave his place lest
he should be washed or blown overboard.
At about two o’clock in the morning we shipped a heavy sea, and two
large, full water casks lashed amidships broke adrift and dashed from
side to side, with every roll of the ship, with appalling violence,
threatening to stave in our bulwarks.
It seemed certain death for any one to attempt to secure these casks,
and yet it was equally certain they would do us great mischief if they
were permitted to dash about in this manner.
At last one of them became temporarily blocked by some spare spars
and coils of rope in the lee scuppers, and the carpenter, with a life-line
attached to his waist, succeeded in staving in one of the heads of the
cask, thus rendering it harmless. Watching his opportunity when the
other cask came over to leeward, he was equally fortunate and staved it
also, to our great relief.
The ship, meanwhile, was laboring very heavily, straining and
groaning as she pitched and rolled, as helpless as a log in the heavy
trough of the sea, and it was evident that her seams were opening, as we
found on sounding the well that there was more than a foot of water in
the hold.
“Pray God the gale may break with daylight, Kelson,” said Captain
Archer, who was lashed close to me, as he saw the sounding rod drawn
up from the pumps.
“Yes, sir, the old barkey won’t stand many more hours of this
hammering and twisting. If the gale doesn’t break with daylight I fear we
shall never see Boston again!”
With difficulty I worked my way into the cabin, to look at the
barometer we had been consulting so anxiously all night. It had certainly
stopped falling! Yes, and better still, the surface of the bulb was at last
convex! That was at least hopeful. I returned to the deck and reported the
news to my companion.
“Yes,” said he; “I really believe the wind has gone down a bit. It is
scarcely perceptible yet, but I think I can notice a slight difference for the
better. Can’t you sound the pumps again?”
The carpenter again got the sounding rod down, and we anxiously
watched his face by the light of the lantern as he measured the wet place
on the iron.
“The water has only gained a scant inch, sir,” he reported.
That was reassuring; so we waited more hopefully for morning, and as
the first gray light of dawn showed in the east the gale began to
moderate, and by eight o’clock we were able to get about the decks again
and commence to clear up the wreck.
We found, on inspection, that all our sails were blown away with the
exception of the jib and main-trysail. In addition, the three topgallant
masts had been carried away, the head of the mizzen topmast was gone,
and the fore yard was badly sprung in the slings, while the starboard, or
lee quarter boat, had been washed from the davits.
Fortunately we had a new suit of sails below, that I had been keeping
for use in coming on our coast in the winter season. These we got up and
bent; new topgallant masts were fitted and sent aloft from our spare
spars; the fore yard was fished, and by night we were standing on our
course all a-tanto again.
We passed the Cape of Good Hope a couple of weeks later, and on
Christmas Day we anchored in the roads off the island of St. Helena.
Here we sent down the fore yard and bought a new spar on shore and had
the bends calked by carpenters, while we overhauled and refitted our
rigging with the ship’s crew. This work detained us for a week at the
island.
As this was my first visit to St. Helena, I made the usual pilgrimage to
Longwood and to Napoleon’s grave. The remains of the great Emperor
had been removed to France by the Prince de Joinville a few years
before, in 1840, but there were several people on the island who
remembered him perfectly during his residence at Longwood, and it was
very interesting to listen to their stories and personal reminiscences of
General Bonaparte, as they usually called him.
Our repairs completed, we sailed and had a fine run till we came on
the coast, when we encountered some heavy weather and head winds, but
at last we got a favorable slant, and on Washington’s Birthday, February
22, we sighted Cape Ann Light, and the following day anchored off
Commercial Wharf after a voyage of fifteen months, which had been full
of adventure and had more than once promised to be most disastrous in
its outcome. But thanks to divine Providence, I had been enabled to
finish it in safety and with success for myself and my employers.
 PART II

IN THE NAVAL SERVICE

 CHAPTER I
THE OUTBREAK OF THE CIVIL WAR

I 1859, after seventeen years of almost continuous sea service, for

during all that time I had never been on shore more than two months at
any one time, I determined to abandon the sea and pass the remainder of
my life on shore.
The fact that I had just taken to myself a wife was, no doubt, a very
potent factor in bringing me to this decision, which was strengthened by
a favorable opportunity being presented just then for investing my
savings in a safe commercial enterprise in Boston.
So I fell in with it, rented a nice little house in a pleasant suburb within
sight of the gilded dome of the State House, and there set up my lares
and penates.
At first this radical change from the free and easy habits of a sea life to
the more rigid conventional routine of a mercantile career rather irked
me, but by the end of a year I had shaken down into my new rôle, and
should probably have become reasonably well contented to pass the
remainder of my days in a ’longshore life, had it not been for the march
of events, which, in bringing about the upheaval of a nation, sent me off
on salt water again.
Early in April, 1861, the North was startled by the news of the attack
upon Fort Sumter by the Southern forces, which followed so quickly
after the secession of South Carolina, and on the 19th of the month the
excitement in Boston was sent up to fever heat by the telegrams
announcing the cowardly attack upon the Sixth Massachusetts Regiment
by the Baltimore roughs, on its passage through that city.
The youngsters who are living in these peaceful days cannot possibly
realize the state of public feeling in New England at that time. Business
was practically suspended, and the sole thought of the people was to
avenge the insult to our flag and the murder of our soldier boys. The
enrolling officers worked day and night, and companies and regiments
were raised, equipped, and hurried to the front with amazing alacrity.
 In common with all my friends and neighbors, I, too, was full of
patriotic zeal, and should probably have enlisted in one of the numerous
regiments forming, had not my attention been directed to an article in the
“Boston Transcript” which referred to the great number of resignations
of Southern naval officers that were pouring in on the Navy Department,
and expressed a fear that our navy would be hopelessly crippled, as the
Southern officers predominated so greatly in that branch of the service.
This gave me an idea, and I at once called upon the late Robert
Bennett Forbes, the public-spirited merchant and shipowner, whose wise
counsels in this exigency had been sought by Mr. Welles, President
Lincoln’s newly appointed Secretary of the Navy.
Mr. Forbes was in his private office, deeply immersed in his private
correspondence, when I called, but he courteously listened to me when I
asked him why the vacancies in the navy could not be filled by the
intelligent and experienced officers of the mercantile marine.
“I have already made such a suggestion to the Secretary of the Navy,
Captain Kelson,” said he, “and I have also sent him a list of a number of
gentlemen whom I consider competent to fill the position of ‘master’ in
the navy.”
“Mr. Forbes,” I responded, “will you not include my name in your list?
You know something of my qualifications, I think.”
With the promptitude that was a very notable characteristic of the man,
he turned to his desk and wrote a brief letter to Mr. Welles, which he
handed to me unsealed. “Take that on to Washington, yourself, Captain
Kelson, and to supplement it, get half a dozen others from Boston
shipowners who know you.”
I did as he suggested, and within twenty-four hours was on my way to
Washington. My interview with the Secretary was brief, but to the point.
He read all my letters, asked me a half dozen pregnant questions, and
then, writing a few words on a slip of paper, rang for a messenger and
sent me with him across the corridor to the Bureau of Detail, where
Captain Charles Henry Davis—afterward Rear Admiral Davis—prepared
my appointment as an Acting Master in the United States Navy.
While the document was sent back to the Secretary for his signature I
took the oath of allegiance, and my orders were at once made out to the
United States steamer Richmond.
Thus quickly was I transformed into an officer in the navy and
assigned to a ship, a fact I could not realize as I walked down the steps of
the building, which I had entered less than an hour before as a private
citizen. But events, both public and private, moved quickly in those
stirring days.
On my way up Pennsylvania Avenue I stopped in at an outfitter’s and
purchased a naval cap, and found an undress blue navy flannel blouse
which fitted me. Upon the shoulders of this garment the tailor attached
the straps of my grade, and, with trousers to match my coat, I returned to
the hotel in time for dinner, a full-fledged officer, rather to the surprise of
the clerk, who had seen me go out a few hours before in citizen’s
costume.
The next morning, in company with a friend, I hired a horse and
buggy, and, obtaining a pass, drove over the “long bridge” and out about
ten miles, to the encampment of our army.
This was but a few weeks before the disastrous battle of Bull Run, but
at the time of the visit our troops were in high feather and felt very
confident that the war was to be only an affair of a few months; a mere
military promenade to Richmond.
All the officers I met seemed so confident of the result that I became
half converted to their theory, and feared that I had made a mistake in
going into the navy for such a brief period as the war was to continue.
The real awakening from our dream came sharply when these same
troops, a month later, were pouring into Washington a beaten,
disorganized rabble!
The following day I went on to New York, where I found the
Richmond at the Brooklyn Navy Yard, and, by a most curious
coincidence, at the very wharf where I had gone on board the Bombay
nearly twenty years before.
The Richmond had just arrived from the Mediterranean, whence she
had been recalled by cablegram. After reporting to the executive officer I
obtained a week’s leave of absence and returned to Boston.
During that brief time I made such arrangements as were necessary for
the comfort of my little family and for the proper continuance of my
business, in which there was very little doing just then, and at the end of
the week reported again on board my ship at Brooklyn.
The Richmond was rated as a second-class steam sloop-of-war. She
was pierced for twenty-six guns, but mounted twenty-two 9-inch
Dahlgren guns in broadside. She was almost a new vessel, a good stanch
ship of her class, which included the Hartford, the Brooklyn, and the
Pensacola. She was rather slow, making with favorable conditions about
ten knots under steam. Before the wind or at anchor in a seaway she had
a capacity for rolling beyond that of any ship I ever saw, before or since.
Her performances in that direction a year later, when we were on the
blockade of Mobile, afforded a constant source of interest and admiration
to the entire fleet, but were exceedingly unsatisfactory to us who were
compelled to endure them. She was commanded by Captain John Pope,
and had a complement of nearly four hundred officers and men.
I am thus particular in describing her, for she was to be my home for
the next eventful two years.
Not long after I received my appointment, on June 30, 1861, news
came to Washington of the escape from New Orleans of the Confederate
privateer Sumter, under the command of Captain Rafael Semmes.
This steamer, originally the Havana, had been fitted out by the
Confederate authorities, and although the mouth of the Mississippi was
closely blockaded by the United States steamer Brooklyn, with two other
ships, Semmes watched an opportunity when the Brooklyn was chasing a
decoy vessel off shore, and dashing out, by her superior speed escaped
our fleet.
Three days later, she captured and burned at sea the ship Golden
Rocket, and by July 6 seven more prizes had been taken by this dashing
privateer.
This, of course, created a tremendous excitement throughout the
country, and our government sent every available ship they had in pursuit
of her.
Orders also came to Captain Pope to hasten his preparations for sea,
and on August 3 we sailed under sealed orders, which, when opened at
sea, proved to be directions to make a thorough search for thirty days
through the West India islands for the Sumter, and, failing to fall in with
her, to join the West Gulf Squadron, then commanded by Flag Officer
Mervine.
So we started on what proved to be a wild-goose chase, but which
gave us an opportunity of making a very agreeable cruise, with the
constant excitement of a possible capture that would have brought us no
end of glory.
Among other incidents, we fell in one day with the wreck of Her
Britannic Majesty’s ship Driver, piled up on a reef off Mariquana Island,
with her crew living ashore under tents they had improvised from the
ship’s sails.
We were boarded by her commanding officer, who bore the historic
name of Horatio Nelson. He seemed to be a kind of nautical Mark
Tapley, exceedingly jolly under very trying circumstances, and perfectly
at ease, notwithstanding his ship was a total loss.
In fact, he appeared to look upon that as a mere incident of the cruise,
and declined our offers of assistance, saying he “was all right, barring the
blasted mosquitoes, don’t you know!” He was every day looking for the
arrival of a British man-of-war to take them off, as he had sent a launch
down to Port Royal for assistance.
At last, having nearly exhausted our coal, we steamed into Port Royal,
Jamaica, on August 21, to obtain a fresh supply. Here we met the
Powhatan, Commander David D. Porter, homeward bound after an
ineffectual hunt after the Sumter.
After coaling, our thirty days having expired, we ran down to Key
West and the Dry Tortugas, and stopping for a day off Pensacola at Fort
Pickens, we received orders from the flagship to relieve the Brooklyn off
the Passes of the Mississippi.
We anchored off the Pass à L’Outre, September 13, and soon after, the
Brooklyn and St. Louis sailed for home, and the Niagara for Pensacola,
leaving us with the Vincennes and the Preble to blockade the entrance to
the river.
A week later, we were joined by the little steamer Water Witch, a
vessel that had distinguished herself some years before in the ascent of
the river Amazon. We then settled down to the monotonous and
wearying routine duty that was to be our lot for nearly a year on this
blockade.