On the evening of the 19th of February we were told that we might
expect to make land the next morning, and as soon as the sun rose
every one was on the lookout. In an hour or two land was in sight
on the port bow, and even my unskilled eye could make out what
seemed to be a long dark cloud on the horizon. Gradually the land
became distinct, and by noon we were lying off Bermuda signaling
for a pilot. The general aspect of the island was far from
inviting, as nothing could be seen but rugged hills covered with
dwarfed trees, and I looked in vain for the fine harbor of which
I had heard so much. A boat with four negroes, who were making
considerable fuss, came alongside with a splash, and, in great
state, the black pilot clambered up the side and took his place
in the pilot house. He understood his business. The _Nashville_
ran squarely towards the island as though she was to be thrown
upon the rocks. Then a narrow passage between two lofty hills was
visible, and into this we steamed. Above our heads on each side
towered the rocks, and the passage was so narrow that the yards
seemed to scrape the trees on either side as we passed in. The
passage gradually opened, and we dropped anchor in the beautiful
harbor of St. George’s. This harbor is, without exception, the most
beautiful and picturesque that I have ever seen. There was not a
ripple on the water, while dotting its brightly blue bosom in every
direction were hundreds of islands, some of them of considerable
size and others mere spots upon the placid surface of the harbor.
The surrounding hills were adorned with houses built of white stone
and shining like snow in the light of the sun. On the highest
point was the signal station, where floated the red cross of St.
George. It was near the end of February, yet the weather was warm
and the sky was unclouded. It was hard to realize that only a few
days before we had left cold fogs and drizzling rain in England.
The principal object in calling at Bermuda was to obtain a supply
of coal, and Captain Pegram made a bargain with the master of a
Yankee bark then in the harbor for as much as we needed. I think
the coal had been intended to supply United States cruisers which
were expected to stop at St. George’s, but the high price we
offered was too much for the patriotism of the master of the bark.
I had a great desire to go ashore and see what Bermuda looked
like, but this privilege was denied me as Bo’sun Sawyer found
abundant occupation for the whole of us in shovelling coal and
then scrubbing the paint. I was allowed on Sunday to be one of the
boat’s crew who went to the landing to bring off Captain Pegram,
who had gone to church, and I had the satisfaction of waiting there
in the sun for two or three hours and of being roundly abused, by
the rest of the crew, for “catching crabs” in the most awkward
manner as we rowed back to the _Nashville_.
Up to this time Captain Pegram had not determined positively
whether he would run into Charleston, Savannah or New Orleans, and
the information which he obtained at Bermuda satisfied him that
these ports could only be reached with great difficulty, as the
blockade had now become rigid. A ship captain whom he talked with
informed Captain Pegram that he thought we might run into Beaufort,
N. C., with comparative ease, and it was determined to try our
fortune there.
After leaving Bermuda I was relieved from some of the scrubbing
and cleaning, and was allowed to take my turn as lookout, being
posted for two hours at a time on the foretopsail yard. There I had
the pleasantest hours that I knew on the _Nashville_. It was quiet
and still. I was far removed from the bickering and blackguardism
of the crew, and could indulge myself freely in watching the varied
hues of the dancing waters, broken now and again by a shoal of
porpoises, or by the brief flight of the flying-fish as they darted
from the wave in the effort to escape from their pursuers. But all
this was not conducive to keeping a sharp lookout. The second day
after leaving Bermuda I was busily thinking of what might happen
when we should reach our destination. The hail came from below:
“Foretopsail yard there!”