This done, the crew were transferred to the captain's vessel, and a prize crew passed on board of the Joseph Park, with instructions to keep within sight of the Sumter, and signal her immediately on perceiving any suspicious sail. So the two cruised for some days in company, the Joseph Park keeping to windward during the day, and at night running down under cover of the Sumter's guns. This capture was none the less welcome for the news she brought in a file of recent papers from Pernambuco, of the first victory of the South at Manassas, or Bull Run, as well as of the successes achieved in Missouri over the troops of General Lyon. Poor Joseph Park! she had little anticipated her fate, and not a little amusement was created among her captors by an entry in her log of the day after leaving Pernambuco:—"We have a tight, fast vessel, and we don't care for Jeff. Davis!" "My unfortunate prisoner," remarks Captain Semmes, "had holloa'd before he was out of the wood."
The journal continues:—
Friday, September 27th.—This is my fifty-second birthday, and so the years roll on, one by one, and I am getting to be an old man! Thank God, that I am still able to render service to my country in her glorious struggle for the right of self-government, and in defence of her institutions, her property, and everything a people hold sacred. We have thus far beaten the Vandal hordes that have invaded and desecrated our soil; and we shall continue to beat them to the end. The just God of Heaven, who looks down upon the quarrels of men, will avenge the right. May we prove ourselves in this struggle worthy of Him and of our great cause! My poor distressed family! How fondly my thoughts revert to them to-day! My dear wife and daughters, instead of preparing the accustomed "cake" to celebrate my birthday, are mourning my absence, and dreading to hear of disaster. May our Heavenly Father console, cherish, and protect them!
CHAPTER VI.
A dull time—"Sail, oh-h-h!"—An exciting chase—No prize—A gale—Jack's holiday—A new cruising-ground—Dead calm—An enlightened Frenchman—A near thing—Patience!—The Daniel Trowbridge—A lucky haul—In closer—Double Duns—The prize schooner's revenge—Good news from home—An apology—In hopes of a fight—Disappointment—The West India station—Another blank—Martinique.
Another dull time now set in. On the 28th September the prize crew were recalled from the Joseph Park, which, after doing duty for some hours longer as a look-out ship, was finally at nightfall, set on fire, and burned to the water's edge. And now day after day passed by, unrelieved save by the little common incidents of a peaceful voyage.
One day it would be a flying-fish that had leaped on board, and paid the penalty of its indiscretion by doing duty next morning on the captain's breakfast-table; another day a small sword-fish performed a similar exploit; while on a third a heavy rain provided the great unwashed of the forecastle with the unaccustomed luxury of copious ablutions in fresh water. But not a sail was to be seen. Once only a simultaneous cry from half-a-dozen sailors of "Light on the starboard bow!" produced a temporary excitement, and caused the engineers to "fire up" at their utmost speed. But the alarm proved false. The red light that had been so confidently reckoned on as the port lantern of some steamer moving across the Sumter's bows, was at length set down as a mere meteor, or it might be some star setting crimson through the dim haze of the distant horizon. Luck seemed quite to have deserted the Confederate flag. They were lying in the very track of vessels between San Roque and New York. Allowing a space of seventy-five miles on either side of the Sumter's station as the extent of this track, and calculating upon a radius of observation from her masthead of fifteen miles, one-fifth of the whole number passing should certainly have come within her ken. Yet in the course of seventeen weary days one vessel only had been seen, and the Sumter's stock of patience was beginning to run very low.
At length, at ten o'clock on the morning of the 5th October, the welcome cry was again heard. "Sail, oh—h—h!" was shouted from the masthead with a lengthened emphasis, as though the look-out would mark the unusual fact with a special note of admiration. The stranger was dead to windward, and miles away, probably some seventeen or eighteen at the very least. But not a moment was lost in starting in pursuit. Steam was got up, sails furled, the vessel's head brought round in the direction of the chase, and in less than half an hour from the first announcement of her appearance, the Sumter was dashing through the water at top-speed in pursuit.
The chase was long and animated. At first starting the stranger had all the advantage of a stiff, steady breeze, whilst the Sumter was compelled to trust altogether to her powers of steaming; and the former, being a fine, fast vessel, appeared, if anything, rather to gain upon her pursuer. Gradually, however, as the two vessels changed their relative bearings, the Sumter also was enabled to avail herself of her fore and aft canvas, and now she began to gain rapidly upon the chase. Three hours and a quarter passed in this exciting contest; but at length the pursuer had come fairly within range, and the chase was over. Up went the Stars and Stripes to the Sumter's peak, and the usual pause of excited expectation ensued; when, after bungling awhile with his signal halyards, as though playing with his pursuer's hopes and fears, the red ensign of England rose defiantly from the deck, and there was to be no prize after all.
Very indignant was the captain of the Spartan at being hove-to by a Yankee, and great was the amusement of the boarding officer as he was welcomed with the observation that "the Northerners were catching h——"