it; still it pays no attention, but keeps
straight on. The captain orders a ball to be fired across her bows,
which explodes so near as to splash great jets of water over them. Her
crew and captain strike sail, and let go halliards, while they fly
behind masts, down cockpit, or wherever they can get for safety. Finding
no further harm is meant than to bring them to, they answer back our
hail--say they are going to Beaufort, quite a different direction from
the one they are heading--and seem generally confused. As an excuse they
say their compass is out of order, and as they appear to be wreckers, we
allow them to go on without further molestation, and steam back to our
moorings, consoling ourselves by the fact that these bootless chases are
using up coal, and thereby hastening the time of our going to Beaufort
to coal up, where we shall have a chance to step once more on _terra
firma_.

Another night passes, and there are no indications of runners having
tried to escape us; but at sunrise we see, far to the south, a schooner,
and soon the flagship signals that a prize has been taken by one of our
fleet. It looks very much like the schooner we let go yesterday, and our
head officers swear, if it _is_ that schooner, never to let another go
so easily. One declares the vessel is loaded with cotton, and worth at
least $100,000, but that, notwithstanding, he will sell his share for
$500 in good gold. No one bids so high. Our ensign offers his for one
dollar, and the paymaster sells his to the surgeon for fifty cents, the
magnificence of which bargain the latter learns from the captain, who
says his share will be about seven and a half cents! We steam alongside,
and learn that our prize is the schooner St. George, bound for
Wilmington, via the Bermudas, with a cargo of salt, saltpetre, etc., and
worth perhaps four thousand dollars. We send our prize list on board the
flagship, and have a nice chat over the capture. It puts us in good
humor, and our vessels _chassee_ around each other till afternoon, when
we separate, to hear shortly that the schooner, on being searched, has
disclosed rich merchandise, gold, Whitworth guns, &c., hidden under her
nominal cargo of salt. So hurra again for our prize list! This _almost_
makes up for the loss of the steamer.

As we are on the point of letting go our anchor, the distant boom of
cannon is heard, and the flagship orders us to repair to the seat of
danger with all speed. We haste away