370 Norta Carotina Troops, 1861-’65.

James Bell is now a well known pilot at Fernandina, Florida.
After the usual precautions against spies and stowaways
by the cruel test of fumigation, and farewell tokens to the
thirsty officers from the forts, we were at last free to face
the music with which we were usually greeted in our attempts
to get outside. While feeling our way cautiously in yes
darkness, and before we reached the first line of ae
a large barge appeared close aboard from which came t :
warning ery, “Heave to, or I’ll sink you.” Instantly our
helm went hard a-port in the pilot’s eagerness to run him
down. The barge was too wary, however, as striking our
sponsons with an unsuccessful cast of his grappling irons,
he fired his signal rocket almost simultaneously with his bow
gun and quickly dropped astern. The silence was now sapetis
by the order ‘‘Full speed ahead !” followed by a ae 6
glare of pyrotechnics from every ship in the | an
by a pandemoniwn of artillery both deafening and confusing.
I can never forget the antics, on this occasion, of our second
steward, old Mickey Mahoney, who, calling upon all the
saints in the calendar for deliverance, tumbled , headlong
down the companionway, with such groans and shrieks of ter-
ror, that we thought the poor fellow had gone mad.
" The cannonading was 4 repetition of the Kilkenny cat
fight, as the shells crashing over us were apparently doing

more damage to the fleet than to us. Boom! Boom! went

their heavy ordnance, with such rapidity and recklessness
that we drove at our best speed without serious damage, and
in half an hour had left them all behind except one of their
fastest ships which pursued us until nearly daylight, when
he returned to the station.

After the storm, the calm. Next morning dawned upon
a scene so quiet, so peaceful, that the events of the night
seemed but an ugly dream which passed away with the dark-
ness. The sea, like glass, with not a ripple upon its surface,
dense white clouds above the horizon reflecting the glory of
the sun resplendent in the east; the watch on deck tranquil
and motionless, with naught to disturb the profound stillness
save the monotonous rumble of our feathered paddles as the

BrockapE Runnin. 371

staunch little ship sped on her course toward the distant Ber-
mudas.

To some of us, the danger of yellow fever, which was then
raging in St. George’s, was more dreadful than that of the
blockade. Among the hundreds of its victims some weeks
later were many gallant Southerners, including our genial
friend and fellow townsman, Captain Robert Williams,
purser of the Index. At eight bells, which was announced
from the bridge, but never struck unless in port, the lookout
in the crow’s nest aloft aroused the slee

ne py company with his
‘shrill ery of “Sail ho!”

“Where away?’ responded the

skipper. “Two points on the starboard bow, sir.” At first
only a thin haze was visible; then the spars and hull of an
unmistakable cruiser gradually came into view, showing a de-
cided inclination for closer acquaintance.

Again the warning cry from aloft: “On deck there.
other steamer on the starboard beam.
is heading for us!”

An-
He rises fast, sir, and
Almost immediately a third steamer
appeared dead ahead. Our course was then changed to bring
two steamers abeam and one astern, and a few minutes later
two more steamers joined in the chase from the pert bow.
We had run into the Gulf Stream squadron, the second cor-
don of gunboats in the track of the blockade runners one day
out, by which many were picked up at daybreak who, having
escaped the previous night, found themselves under the guns
of a cruiser in the haze of the morning. Hopeful and fairly
confident of our ability to outstrip the first three pursuers,
we had run up a new Confederate flag in the face of our en-
emies, which was soon made the target of their artillerists,
and carried away in the beginning of the fray. The shriek-
ing shells from three directions which passed far ahead of
us in line shots, proved very soon our inability to get away;
nevertheless, our Captain determined to attempt an escape
by running between the two nearest ships, Keystone State
and Gettysburg, thus getting them within the danger line of
their own fire, as well as that of our other pursuers.

The Lilian’s engines were already going at such speed that

it was impossible to stand the heat of the fire room more than
a few minutes at a time, while she tore through the water

’