He is suddenly conscious of a young seaman standing before him, giving him a message. In a dazed way he relinquishes his lock-string to one of his gunners, and is making his way over the reeking deck toward the bridge. He hears a voice, as if in a dream, giving him orders to be ready to board the prize. Then the enemy has surrendered? His gaze seeks the other ship. But a short distance away he sees her shattered hull rolling in the smooth sea. A huge white flag flutters from her signal-halyards. The boats are ready and alongside. The men are embarking. He takes his place, and they shove off, and are soon scaling the side of the captured vessel. Her decks are almost deserted, scarcely a living man is about, but everywhere death and destruction reign. He hears a well-known voice close to him. Has the last hour been an awful nightmare, or has his mind been shaken at last? He cannot grasp the situation. There is his friend, looking paler than ever, his right arm in splints, and his head tied up in a huge bandage. His joy knows no bounds. With a fervent "Thank Heaven!" they embrace. There is no time now for explanations; it is enough to know that his companion is still alive. With orders from his Lieutenant, he is leading, pistol in hand, a gang of tars down into the Calabria's bowels. The surprised firemen and stokers are quickly manacled, and ready Americans have taken their places. An engineer officer is giving rapid orders to his men; the huge engines start ahead, slowly at first, then the revolutions increase, till the shafts are revolving at a terrific speed. When he again reaches the deck everything is again calm and peaceful. On the port quarter, but a short distance away, he sees the Minneapolis. Both ships are going at full speed; and astern, just out of gun-shot, he sees the hulls of three more ships. He understands it all now. The Calabria had nearly led them into a trap.
A red wigwag flag is waving on board the white cruiser: "Must reduce speed in order to reach port." Coal is running short. The horribly significant signal can hardly be realized. Will she fall a prey to the enemy's cruisers after such a glorious victory? Foot by foot the hostile ships draw nearer to the commerce-destroyer and her prize. In case they are overtaken, the Calabria is to go on and reach Hampton Roads in safety. It is the only thing to do. Why sacrifice another ship unnecessarily? For two days and nights the pursuit continues. Cape Henry Light-house is sighted on the port bow. Just within gun-shot astern are the three heavily armed cruisers, using their bow chasers with great rapidity and precision on the fleeing ships. Large volumes of brown smoke pour from the American cruiser's smoke-pipes. She is making her last spurt for life. Bulkheads, furniture, and all combustible material have been fed to the mighty furnaces.
Slowly they draw away from their pursuers. The light-house is close on the port beam. The heavy guns there are directed against three dark hulls to the eastward. They are the baffled enemy.
There is a story told of an Irishman who went out in the woods to shoot a bear. It was winter-time, and the Irishman wanted a fur coat very badly. When he finally sighted his bear he cried out, "Ah, there is my fur overcoat!" The bear was very hungry, and when he saw the hunter, he cried out, "Ah, there is my meal!" Well, the hunter fired his rifle and the bear jumped behind the tree. Now, the amusing part of the story is, that the hunter fired his rifle and didn't hit the bear; still he got the fur of the bear for an overcoat because the bear ate the hunter. Which of the two was the better satisfied is still in doubt.