388 Nortu Carorina Troops, 1861-65.

excellent opportunity to reconnoitre the enemy. They were
numerous and assumed their stations with an air of vigilance
that seemed to announce the channel as hermetically sealed
for the night. The prospect afforded no joyful antici pa-
tions of a pleasant exit. As it was necessary to bide the
movements of the moon, her sluggishness in retiring for the
night was regarded with considerable impatience. At last
her royal majesty, over the margin of the western horizon,
tips us a knowing wink and disappears. In silence Caswell
is passed and a dim glimpse of Fort Campbell affords a fare-
well view of Dixie as the steamer’s head is turned seaward
throngh the channel. The swelling greetings of the Atlantic
billows announce that the bar is passed; over the cresting
waves the good craft swiftly dashes as if impatient to
promptly face her trials of the night. Through the settled
darkness all eyes on board are peering, eagerly straining to
zateh « view of the dreaded sentinels who sternly guard the
tabooed channel. Nothing white is exposed to view, every
light is extingnished save those that are hooded in the bin-
nacle and engine room. No sound disturbs the soleum
silence of the moment but the dismal moaning of the north-
east wind and the unwelcome but unavoidable dashing of our
paddles. Night glasses scan the bleared horizon for a time
in vain; suddenly an officer with bated breath announces sev-
eral steamers. Eagerly pointing, he reports two at anchor
and others slowly cruising. Instantly out of the gloom and
spoon-drift emerges the sombre phantom form of the block-
ading fleet. The moment of trial is at hand; firmness and
decision are essential for the emergency. Dashing between
the two at anchor, we pass so near as to excite astonishment
at our non-discovery, but this resulted from the color of our
hull, which under certain stages of the atmosphere, blended
so perfectly with the haze as to render the steamer invisible.
How keenly the grim hulls of the enemy are watched! How
taut, like harp strings, every nerve is strung, anxiously vibrat-
ing with each pulsation of the throbbing heart! We emerged

to windward from the two at anchor. ‘Captain,’ whispered.

the pilot, ‘according to my chop logic, them chaps aren’t
going to squint us this blessed might!’ Ere a response could

BLockaDE RuNNING. 389

be uttered, a broad spread flash of intense light blazed from
the flag’s Drummond, for in passing to windward the noise
of our paddles betrayed the proximity of a blockade-runner.
‘Full speed!’ I shouted to the engineer. Instantly the in-
creased revolutions responded to the order. Then came the
roar of heavy guns, the how] of shot and scream of bursting
shells. Around, above and through the severed rigging the
iron demons howled as if pandemonium had discharged its
infernal spirits into the air. Under the influence of a ter-
rible shock, the steamer quivers with aspen vibrations. An
explosion follows; she is struck!

““What’s the damage? I asked.

“**A shell, sir, has knocked overboard several bales of cot-
ton and wounded two of the crew,’ was the response of the
boatswain. By the sheen of the Drummond lights the sea
is so clearly illuminated as to exhibit the perils of our posi-
tion, and show the grouping around us of the fleet as their
batteries belched forth a hail storm of angry missiles. In
the turmoil of excitement, a frightened passenger, contrary
to orders, invaded the bridge. Wringing his hands in ag-
ony, he implored me to surrender and save his life and the
lives of all on board. Much provoked, I directed one of our
quartermasters stationed near me to take the lubber below.
Without ceremony, he seized the unhappy individual, and as
he hurried him towards the cabin, menacingly exclaimed,
‘Shut up your fly trap, or by the powres of Moll Kelly, 7’
hold ye up as a target for the derision of them Yankee gun-
ners.’

“As perils multiplied our Mazeppa speed increased, and
gradually withdrew us from the cirele of danger. At last
we distanced the party. Spontaneously the crew gave three
hearty cheers as relief to their pent-up anxiety, and everyone
began to breathe more naturally. This was my tenth epi-
sode in running the blockade. During the night we were
subjected to occasional trials of speed, to avoid suspicious
strangers whose characters could not be determined. In
fact, nothing in the shape of a steamer was to be trusted, as
we entertained the belief that Confederates were Ishmaelites
upon the broad ocean—the recipients of no man’s courtesy.