rounding, sounded like a clarion peal from a trumpet. The
deck-hands rushed for a box of poultry on the deck, and dragged out
bird after bird, wringing their necks. The true offender was almost
the last to be caught, and avenged the deaths of his brothers by
crowing vigorously all the time. The noise was enough to alarm the
blockaders; and in a moment the hail, "Surrender, or we'll blow you
out of water!" brought the unlucky runner to a standstill,--a
prisoner. The "Southern Cross" narrowly escaped capture on account of
the stupidity of an Irish deck-hand, whose craving for tobacco proved
too strong for his discretion. The ship was steaming slyly by two
cruisers, and in the darkness would have escaped unseen, when the
deck-hand, who had been without a smoke as long as he could stand it,
lit a match and puffed away at his pipe. The tiny flame was enough for
the cruisers, and they began a spirited cannonade. The "Southern
Cross" ran for her life. The shooting was guess-work, but the gunners
on the cruisers showed all the proverbial Yankee skill at guessing.
The first ball carried away the roof of the pilot-house, and the
second ripped away the railing along the deck for thirty feet. But the
captain was plucky, and made a run for it. He was forced to pass
within a hundred feet of one of the cruisers; and as he saw the
muzzles of the great guns bearing on his ship, he heard the command,
"Heave to, or I'll sink you." But he took his chances, and escaped
with only the damage caused by a solid shot crashing through the hull.

One of the strangest experiences of all was that of the captain of a
blockade-runner putting in to Wilmington one bitter cold night, when
the snow was blowing in clouds, and the fingers of the men at the
wheel and the sailors on watch were frostbitten. The runner had
reached the harbor safely; but there in channel lay a blockader in
such a position that any ship coming in must pass within a hundred
feet of her. The Confederate had a light-draught vessel, and tried to
squeeze through. When he passed the gunboat, only twelve feet of
space separated the two vessels; and he saw a lookout, with his arms
on the rail, looking right at the passing vessel. The Confederate
expected an immediate alarm, but it did not come. Wondering at the
cause, but happy in his luck, he sped on, and gained the harbor
safely. Some days after, he learned that the lookout was a dead man,
frozen at his post of duty.

It will readily