Thursday, December 4th.—* * * * Standing off and on Cape Maise, waiting for our Californian friend, who should have left Aspinwall on the 1st, and should pass this point to-day or to-night. Fires banked, so as to give us steam at a short notice. Several sail passing during the day. Exercised the crew at the battery at sunset. A beautiful bright night, with the wind somewhat too fresh from the N.E. Lying to off Cape Maise. Everybody on the tiptoe of excitement, and a good many volunteer look-outs. As for myself, having put the ship in the right position, I turned in at 10 P.M., giving orders not to call me for a sail-ship, and got a good night's rest, of which I stood very much in need.
Friday, December 5th.—A very fine morning, with highly-transparent atmosphere. The west side of Haiti visible, though distant ninety miles. On this fine balmy morning I enjoyed exceedingly the cheerful notes of our canary. This is a little prisoner made on board one of the whalers; and sometimes at early morning I fancy myself amid "jessamine bowers," inhaling the fragrance of flowers and listening to the notes of the wild songsters so common in our dear Southern land. May God speedily clear it of the wicked, fanatical hordes that are now desolating it under pretence of liberty and free government!
If the Californian steamers still take this route, the steamer of the 1st must have been delayed, otherwise she should have passed us last night. Several sail in sight, but I cannot yet leave my station to overhaul them, lest my principal object should be defeated. At noon, a schooner would insist on stumbling right into my path, without the necessity of a chase. I brought her to, and she proved to be United States property. She was the Mina, of and from Baltimore, for Port Maria, on the north side of Jamaica. Her cargo being English, I released her on a ransom bond for 15,000 dollars. She was of ninety tons, and thirteen years old. Kept her by me until sunset, and then permitted her to depart, having sent on board her the prisoners from the barque Parker Cook.
Our hopes of capturing a Californian steamer were considerably damped by the intelligence given us by the mate of this schooner, that these steamers no longer ran this route, but that the outward bound took the Mona Passage (?), and the homeward bound the Florida gulf passage. Still, I will wait a day or two longer to make sure that I have not been deceived.
Saturday, December 6th.—… At 9 A.M. hoisted the propeller, and made sail to the northward and eastward. The outward-bound Californian steamer is due off the Cape to-day, if she takes this route at all; I will therefore keep the Cape in sight all day. I glean the following paragraph from a New York letter, published in a file of the _Baltimore Sun, _received from the schooner Mina:—
"The shipments of grain from this port during the past week have been almost entirely in foreign bottoms, the American flag being for the moment in disfavour in consequence of the raid of the rebel steamer Alabama!"
CHAPTER XXI.
The Alabamans lucky day—A trial of speed—Brought to—The Ariel—Buying an elephant—Prisoners of war—Prize-money—Still on the look-out —Broken down—A dilemma—Yellow fever—Release of the Ariel —Under repair.
Sunday again! The Alabama's lucky day; and this time, at least, destined to be especially marked with white chalk in the annals of the ship. The morning passed calmly enough; the ship in her quiet Sabbath trim; and nothing giving token of what was about to follow, save here and there a group anxiously scanning the horizon, or eagerly discussing the chances of a rich capture before nightfall.
The forenoon wore slowly away, and five bells had just sounded, when the cry of "Sail, ho!" from the masthead put every one on the _qui vive, _the excitement growing rapidly more and more intense as bit by bit the description of the stranger became more accurate and minute. She is a steamer—and a large one! That sounded well, and the hopes of the sanguine rose higher and higher. Brigantine rigged—and a side-wheel steamer!—so far so good. This answers exactly to the description of the Californian steamers. A few minutes will decide it now; the Alabama's canvas has some time since been snugly furled, the fires spread and well supplied with fresh fuel, the propeller lowered, and the ship's head turned in a direction to intercept the approaching vessel. Rapidly the chase looms larger and larger, as the two swift steamers approach each other at almost top speed. And now the huge walking-beam can be plainly distinguished, see-sawing up and down between the lofty paddle-boxes, and the decks appear crowded with hundreds of passengers, conspicuous among whom are to be seen the gay dresses of numerous ladies; and—yes, surely that is the glimmer of bayonets, and that military-looking array drawn up on the hurricane-deck is a strong detachment of United States marines!