Tell me where to find you.
In a letter that I wrote to my mother from Bermuda, I described our change of quarters as follows: “Our state-room on the upper deck has two bunks and a toilet stand, and is very prettily painted. Through the windows we can look at the open sea. What a contrast to the den that we did inhabit! When work is over I can have the blessedness of being alone. More than this: one of the Midshipmen told me that he heard Captain Pegram and Mr. Bennett talking about me, and Captain Pegram said he was very much pleased with my conduct.”
[V.]
On the evening of the 19th of February we were told that we might expect to make land the next morning, and as soon as the sun rose every one was on the lookout. In an hour or two land was in sight on the port bow, and even my unskilled eye could make out what seemed to be a long dark cloud on the horizon. Gradually the land became distinct, and by noon we were lying off Bermuda signaling for a pilot. The general aspect of the island was far from inviting, as nothing could be seen but rugged hills covered with dwarfed trees, and I looked in vain for the fine harbor of which I had heard so much. A boat with four negroes, who were making considerable fuss, came alongside with a splash, and, in great state, the black pilot clambered up the side and took his place in the pilot house. He understood his business. The Nashville ran squarely towards the island as though she was to be thrown upon the rocks. Then a narrow passage between two lofty hills was visible, and into this we steamed. Above our heads on each side towered the rocks, and the passage was so narrow that the yards seemed to scrape the trees on either side as we passed in. The passage gradually opened, and we dropped anchor in the beautiful harbor of St. George’s. This harbor is, without exception, the most beautiful and picturesque that I have ever seen. There was not a ripple on the water, while dotting its brightly blue bosom in every direction were hundreds of islands, some of them of considerable size and others mere spots upon the placid surface of the harbor. The surrounding hills were adorned with houses built of white stone and shining like snow in the light of the sun. On the highest point was the signal station, where floated the red cross of St. George. It was near the end of February, yet the weather was warm and the sky was unclouded. It was hard to realize that only a few days before we had left cold fogs and drizzling rain in England.
The principal object in calling at Bermuda was to obtain a supply of coal, and Captain Pegram made a bargain with the master of a Yankee bark then in the harbor for as much as we needed. I think the coal had been intended to supply United States cruisers which were expected to stop at St. George’s, but the high price we offered was too much for the patriotism of the master of the bark. I had a great desire to go ashore and see what Bermuda looked like, but this privilege was denied me as Bo’sun Sawyer found abundant occupation for the whole of us in shovelling coal and then scrubbing the paint. I was allowed on Sunday to be one of the boat’s crew who went to the landing to bring off Captain Pegram, who had gone to church, and I had the satisfaction of waiting there in the sun for two or three hours and of being roundly abused, by the rest of the crew, for “catching crabs” in the most awkward manner as we rowed back to the Nashville.
Up to this time Captain Pegram had not determined positively whether he would run into Charleston, Savannah or New Orleans, and the information which he obtained at Bermuda satisfied him that these ports could only be reached with great difficulty, as the blockade had now become rigid. A ship captain whom he talked with informed Captain Pegram that he thought we might run into Beaufort, N. C., with comparative ease, and it was determined to try our fortune there.
After leaving Bermuda I was relieved from some of the scrubbing and cleaning, and was allowed to take my turn as lookout, being posted for two hours at a time on the foretopsail yard. There I had the pleasantest hours that I knew on the Nashville. It was quiet and still. I was far removed from the bickering and blackguardism of the crew, and could indulge myself freely in watching the varied hues of the dancing waters, broken now and again by a shoal of porpoises, or by the brief flight of the flying-fish as they darted from the wave in the effort to escape from their pursuers. But all this was not conducive to keeping a sharp lookout. The second day after leaving Bermuda I was busily thinking of what might happen when we should reach our destination. The hail came from below: “Foretopsail yard there!”
I answered promptly “aye! aye! sir.”