had died away on the soft evening air, such an infernal din, of drums, and fifes, and cymbals, and wind instruments, each after its fashion, going it strong upon
“Yankee Doodle Dandy!”
arose, as to defy all description! The effect was electric; the officers had to hold their sides to preserve their dignity, and—Captain Blake was avenged. There could be no protest made against this time-honored rogue’s march. It was the favorite tune of the b’hoys, and there the matter had to end. I have never learned whether Mr. Seward ever called Lord Palmerston to an account about it, in any one of his “Essays on English Composition.”
CHAPTER XLI.
DEPARTURE FROM JAMAICA—CAPTURE OF THE GOLDEN RULE—COASTING THE ISLAND OF HAYTI—CAPTURE OF THE CHASTELAINE—THE OLD CITY OF ST. DOMINGO, AND ITS REMINISCENCES—THE DOMINICAN CONVENT, AND THE PALACE OF DIEGO COLUMBUS—THE CAPTURE OF THE PALMETTO, THE OLIVE JANE, AND THE GOLDEN EAGLE—HOW THE ROADS ARE BLAZED OUT UPON THE SEA—CAPTAIN MAURY.
On the 25th of January, 1863, or just five days after our arrival at Jamaica, we had completed all our preparations for sea, and at half-past eight P. M. steamed out of the harbor of Port Royal, bound to the coast of Brazil, and thence to the Cape of Good Hope. We had made many friends during our short stay, and mutual regrets were expressed at departure. My gallant young officers had not been idle, whilst I had been visiting the mountains. Many little missives, put up in the tiniest and prettiest of envelopes, were discovered among the mail, as our last mail-bag was prepared for the shore, and as a good deal of damage may be done in five days, there were probably some heart-beatings among the fair islanders, as those P. P. Cs. were perused. There is no lover so susceptible, or so devoted, or whose heart is so capacious, as that of the young seaman. His very life upon the sea is a poem, and his habitual absence from the sex prepares him to see loveliness in every female form.
Though it was night when we emerged from the harbor, and when we ought to have met with the blandest and gentlest of land breezes, laden with the perfume of shrub and flower, we passed at once into a heavy head sea, with a stiff north-easter blowing. With yards pointed to the wind, and a laboring engine, we steamed along past Point Mayrant light, off which, the reader may recollect, we discharged the Ariel, some weeks before, and the morning’s light found us in the passage between Jamaica and St. Domingo. The sun rose brightly, the wind moderated, and the day proved to be very fine.
My first duty, after the usual morning’s muster at quarters, was to hold a court of general sessions, for the discharge of my vagabonds, many of whom, the reader will recollect, were still in irons; and a beautiful-looking set of fellows they were, when their irons were removed, and they were brought on deck for this purpose. They were now all sober, but the effects of their late debauches were visible upon the persons of all of them. Soiled clothing, blackened eyes, and broken noses, frowsy, uncombed hair, and matted and disordered beard, with reddened eyes that looked as if sleep had long been a stranger to them—these were the principal features. Poor Jack! how much he is to be pitied! Cut loose early from the gentle restraints of home, and brought into contact with every description of social vice, at an age when it is so difficult to resist temptation, what wonder is it, that we find him a grown-up child of nature, subject to no other restraint than such as the discipline of his ship imposes upon him?