After the action had been over an hour or more, and whilst I was steaming off on my course, it was reported to me that a boat of the enemy, containing an acting master and five men, which had been lowered before we opened fire upon him, to board "Her Majesty's steamer Petrel," had escaped. As the sea was smooth and the wind blowing gently towards the shore, distant only about nineteen miles, this boat probably reached the shore in safety in five or six hours. The night was clear and starlit, and it would have no difficulty in shaping its course. But for these circumstances, I should have turned back to look for it, hopeless as this task must have proved in the dark. The weather continued moderate all night, and the wind to blow on shore.
It was ascertained that Galveston had been retaken by us, and that the Brooklyn and four of the enemy's steam-sloops were off the port, awaiting a reinforcement of three other ships from New Orleans to cannonade the place. So there was no "Banks' expedition," with its transports, heavily laden with troops, &c., to be attacked, and but for the bad look-out of our man at the masthead, we should have got instead into a hornet's nest.
CHAPTER XXIV.
Crowded with prisoners—Chasing a friend—At Jamaica—Enthusiastic reception—Rest on shore—Speech making—Up anchor!—A prize—Case of the Golden Rule—Reinstating the discipline—Capture of the Chastelain—San Domingo—The Palmetto—Men of the day in the United States.
The Alabama's little fighting holiday was over, and she returned to her appointed task of annoying the enemy's commerce. Her course lay towards Jamaica, the captain being anxious to relieve himself as soon as possible of the nest of prisoners that crowded his decks, and were necessarily the occasion of considerable inconvenience to both men and officers. The latter especially were most uncomfortably crowded, the captain setting the example of self-sacrifice, by giving up his state-room for the benefit of Lieutenant Blake, Commander of the sunken Hatteras.
It may be supposed that, under these circumstances, the Alabama was not very anxious to increase the number of her involuntary passengers. Still duty was duty, and when, on the day following the engagement, a sail was reported from aloft, chase was at once given, and expectation again on tiptoe at the thought of a prize. No prize, however, was to be taken that day. At about half-past two, the Alabama came within signal-distance of the chase, and was already busy exchanging the usual information, when the "stranger" barque was discovered to be no other than their old friend and faithful tender the Agrippina; and the Alabama continued her course, not a little amused at her own blunder in thus chasing her most particular friend.
Another week passed by with no event of interest, the Alabama working her way towards Jamaica, through a succession of more or less heavy gales, which, in the crowded state of the ship, were anything but comfortable. On the 20th January, she sighted land a little before daybreak, passing Portland at about 3 P.M., and arriving off the lighthouse on Plum Point at half-past four. Here French colours were displayed in case of accident, and a gun fired for a pilot. At about halt-past six, that important individual made his appearance, and in about three-quarters of an hour more the Alabama was safely at anchor in Port Royal harbour.
* * * * *
Wednesday, January 21st.—Found here several English men-of-war—the Jason, the Challenger, the Greyhound, &c., the Commanders of all of which called on us. I saw the Commodore (Dunlop) this morning, and requested of the Governor through him permission to land my prisoners, &c., which was readily granted. Made arrangements for coaling and provisioning the ship, and for repairing damages; and in the afternoon ran up to Kingston, and thence proceeded to the mountains with Mr. Fyfe.
Thursday, January 22nd.—Had a delightful ride over a fine, natural McAdamized road, for about ten miles, and thence by horse and bridle-path through the most picturesque of mountainous regions, with its lovely valleys, abrupt precipices, streams of water, luxuriant foliage, &c., to Flamstead, the residence of the Rev. Mr. Fyfe, who soon returned from town and received me most hospitably.[12] Spent a delightful, quiet day, riding to Flamstead, and walking in the afternoon along the winding mountain paths. Jamaica—that is, the south side—is a wilderness, and the town of Kingston a ruin. The negro population idle, thriftless, and greatly subject to diseases of an inflammatory kind. No morals—gross superstition, &c.