With a buoyant heart I left the proud and warlike looking privateer, Paul Jones, and proceeded to the slip where the schooner Mary lay. For this vessel, looking so demure and Quaker-like, I very ungratefully began to entertain feelings akin to contempt. She was now taking in cargo and was expected to sail in a few days on her return to Newbern. When Captain Thompson came on board, I told him I had engaged to join the privateer Paul Jones, which vessel was about to sail on a cruise. He seemed greatly astonished, and abruptly asked me what I meant by such conduct. I explained my intentions more at length, and referred to the notice I had given of my wish to join a privateer.
"I had no idea you were serious," said the captain. "I thought you intended it as a joke. I didn't suppose you were such a confounded fool as to think seriously of joining a privateer."
"Why, sir, what can I do better? Our merchant ships will be laid up or captured on the high seas. Even the coasting trade will be destroyed by British cruisers stationed along the whole extent of our coast. If I return to Newbern, I shall probably be thrown out of employment; a stranger in a small place, and almost as destitute as when I first shipped on board the Mary. I have pondered on the subject, and am convinced that my best course is to go a privateering."
"Go to Beelzebub, you mean!" exclaimed the captain, in a rage. "I have no patience with you. You talk nonsense. The schooner will not be laid up on her return to Newbern. And, furthermore, you have signed a contract to perform a voyage from Newbern to New York AND BACK! And I shall hold you to your agreement. Go a privateering! Pah!"
We had some further discussion, in the midst of which Mr. Jarvis, the owner of the schooner, who had arrived in New York a day or two before from North Carolina, came on board. He was a dignified-looking man, greatly respected and esteemed in Newbern. He espoused captain Thompson's side of the argument, assured me it was unlikely his vessels would be laid up on account of the war, and would promise me that in any event I should not be thrown out of employment. If his vessels remained idle at the wharves, he would find business for me in his counting room until more propitious times.
The united remonstrances of the captain and the owner of the Mary came with a force I was unable to resist; with a strong effort I gulped down my disappointment, and gave up my darling project of making a cruise in the Paul Jones. Our fortunes in this life our destinies seem sometimes balanced on a pivot which a breath will turn. Had I accomplished my intention and embarked on a cruise, how different my fate, in all likelihood, would have been!
We left New York about the 2d of July. After having reached the offing, while pursuing our course with diligence towards Cape Hatteras, we were overhauled by a New York pilot boat of the smallest size, apparently bound in the same direction. This little schooner was in ballast, and skimmed over the seas like a Mother Carey's chicken; ranged up on our weather quarter and hailed us. It proved to be the Young Pilot, Captain Moncrieff, bound to Savannah. The mate, whose name was Campbell, was known to Captain Thompson. They had been boarders in the same house. After an interchange of salutations and hearty wishes for a pleasant voyage, the little schooner rapidly drew ahead and passed on her way. There was nothing remarkable in this incident. I little thought at the time that this egg-shell of a vessel was destined to exercise an important influence on the future events of my life.
On the morning of the Fourth of July we were off the Chesapeake Bay, some twelve or fifteen miles from Cape Henry. Captain Thompson was a sterling patriot. He dearly loved his country, and gladly caught at every chance to display the broad flag of the Union. Accordingly, on this memorable day the gorgeous ensign was hoisted at the peak, the American jack waved at the fore-topmast head, and a long pennant fell in wavy folds from the main truck.
"If I had a big gun," exclaimed the worthy skipper, in a paroxysm of patriotism "a thirty-two-pound carronade, I would fire a genuine republican salute, and make such a thundering noise, not only in the air above but in the depths below, as to wake up the lazy inhabitants of the deep, and make them peep out of their caves to ask the cause of the terrible rumpus over their heads." At this very moment a suspicious-looking, double-headed cloud was slowly rising in the west, and ere long spread over a large space in the heavens. As it rolled onward, flashes of lightning were seen and a distant rumbling was heard a thunder squall was at hand. The lightning became more vivid, and the thunder more frequent and deafening. Every sail was lowered to the deck, the helm was put hard a-port, and the gust came upon us with terrible fury. The rain fell in torrents, the lightning kept the atmosphere in a constant state of illumination, and the peals of thunder were truly appalling! A grander salute, or a more brilliant and effective display of fireworks on the Fourth of July, could hardly have been wished by the most enthusiastic patriot. Even Captain Thompson's longings for "a thundering noise" were more than realized. He stood firmly on the break of the quarter-deck, surrounded by most of the crew, who seemed to gather near him for protection, astonished and terrified at the sublimity of the scene.
I was standing on the main deck, not far from the rest of the crew at the time, and noticed that when the storm struck the schooner, some ropes that had not been hitched to a belaying pin were flying loose and might become unrove. I stepped forward, and standing on tiptoe was in the act of stretching up my right arm to grasp the end of the peak-halliards, when there came a flash of white lightning which almost blinded every man on deck, accompanied by a peal of thunder that seemed loud enough to shake the world to its centre. We all believed the schooner had been struck by lightning. This was not the case. It was, nevertheless, a narrow escape. I received on my hand and arm an electric shock, which tingled through every nerve and nearly felled me to the deck, and rendered my arm powerless for an hour afterwards.