A long interval now, with nothing but the Englishman's excitement—the weather—to break the weary monotony of an eventless voyage. So far, however, as gales of wind could offer a distraction, the Alabama had little of which to complain, and the vessel rolled and tumbled about in the heavy seas in a manner which sorely tried the endurance of, at all events, her unfortunate captain.
The gale still continues, writes Captain Semmes, on the 11th March. Wind E.N.E. For four days now we have been rolling and tumbling about, with the wind roaring day and night through the rigging, and rest more or less disturbed by the motion of the ship. Sea-life is becoming more and more distasteful to me. The fact is, I am reaching an age when men long for quiet and repose. During the war my services belong to my country, and ease must not be thought of; but I trust that the end is not afar off. The enemy, from many signs, is on the point of final discomfiture. Nay, a just Providence will doubtless punish the wicked fanatics who have waged this cruel and unjust war upon us, in a way to warn and astonish the nations upon earth. Infidelity and wickedness in every shape let loose upon themselves, must end in total destruction. The Yankee States have yet to go through an ordeal they little dreamed of in the beginning of their unholy crusade against the Southern people.
On the 12th, the vessel was within fourteen degrees of the equator, but so cool did the weather still continue that all hands were still wearing woollen clothing, and sleeping under a couple of blankets. The sky continued grey and overcast, with an occasional slight sprinkle of rain, and a stiff breeze. The barometer falling steadily until, on the 14th March, it had reached as low as 29.96, about the usual standard of the trade winds.
That night brought, however, a slight relief from the long dullness. It was just midnight when the startling cry of "Sail, ho! close aboard!" was heard from the look-out; and in less than five minutes the Alabama was within hailing distance of a large ship standing close on a wind towards the northward and westward.
"Ship ahoy!—what ship's that?" rang hoarsely through the speaking-trumpet from the deck of the Alabama. But no answer came, and the hail was repeated. Still no answer, the strange sail keeping steadily on her course, regardless of every thing, her huge hull towering up high and dark as she passed almost within harpooning distance of the Alabama, and shot away again into the darkness, like a phantom that on being spoken to, had vanished away.
But the Alabama could have brought-to the Flying Dutchman himself, if he had attempted to pass by without answering a hail. "Hands, wear ship!" was the order before the sound of the second summons had well died away. Up went the helm, round came the Alabama's head in the direction in which the stranger had disappeared; and with the reefs shaken out of her topsails, away she went in chase like a greyhound after a hare.
By the time sail was made, and headway got on the ship, the chase was some three miles in advance, and gliding swiftly along with a strong breeze. But though a stern chase is proverbially a long chase, the splendid sailing qualities of the Alabama soon made themselves felt, and within three hours after her helm was put up, she was within a few hundred yards of the stranger, who now hove to at the first summons from the cruiser's bow-guns.
She proved to be the United States ship Punjaub, of Boston, from Calcutta for London, and having an English cargo on board, as appeared from sworn affidavits among the papers, from the nature of the voyage—from one British port to another—and from the cargo of jute and linseed, she was released on a ransom bond for 55,000 dollars, the remaining prisoners from the John Parks being transferred to her for passage home.
The 21st March brought a change of weather, with heavy squalls of rain. The variety was greatly enjoyed by all on board, Captain Semmes recording in his journal his own pleasure at once more hearing the roll of the thunder, for the first time for many months, and the delight with which both officers and men paddled about on the deck with their bare feet, enjoying, "like young ducks," the first heavy rain they had experienced for a considerable time.
On the morning of Monday, March 23rd, a sail hove in sight, which, being overhauled about noon, was found to be the United States ship Morning Star, from Calcutta to London. This ship also had a neutral cargo, duly vouched as such by the proper legal certificates; so she, too, was released on ransom bond. A second prize, however, which fell into the Alabama's hands the same day, was less fortunate. This was the United States schooner Kingfisher, of Fairhaven, Massachusetts, some months out on a whaling voyage. It was well for her that she but very recently discharged into another vessel her second cargo of oil, and could only, at present, boast of some twenty barrels, all of which were at once consigned to the flames, together with the unlucky vessel.